Respect Authority

Sometimes, when I’m not watching TV, or reprogramming my faulty DVR for the ninth time, or idly wondering whether mood rings come in “irritable,” I read books. And since this is my blog and I’ll wax intellectual if I want to, I feel it’s high time I start reviewing them. Because trust me, there are a lot (175 unread books in my 330-square-foot apartment, to be exact).

The most important thing you need to know about God Is Not Great—it’s a rather awkward book to read in public. Which isn’t to say that New Yorkers have any specific problem with atheism, or one 20-something semi-hipster predictably reading about it on the subway, but one finds it hard to ignore the looks, which vary from skepticism to accusation (by the way, in a rant for another time, I find the Kindle really hampers my predilection for observing what others are reading on the train). Then again, maybe it’s just some watered-down version of Catholic guilt that has me wanting to reach out to fellow riders; “I’m not an atheist; I mean, maybe, I don’t know. I’m just—the book was on sale.”

This is my second foray in the great wide world of pop culture atheism, which isn’t to say God Is Not Great author Christopher Hitchens is jumping on any sort of bandwagon; rather it seems our country’s broader shift toward open-mindedness has made it all the more acceptable to shout one’s disbelief from the rooftops. Perhaps that explains why Richard Dawkins’ The God Delusion, which I started and never finished a few years ago (when God was touted as endlessly relevant to our political and social policies) never quite struck my fancy the way God Is Not Great has in the last few weeks.

Unlike The God Delusion, which if memory serves seems to focus on the broader implications of organized religion, Hitchens simultaneously disavows the so-called opiate of the masses, while also using various parts of scripture (from multiple faiths) to make his point. These are the kinds of assertions that got Bill Maher less than enthusiastic responses in his documentary Religulous; if there’s one thing the faithful hate, it’s having to admit faith is what lets them deny logic.

The long and short of the book is this: Religious scripture—the Bible, Torah, Koran, etc.—is undeniably made-up, and religious people are unequivocally mistaken. Moreover, and perhaps this thesis is what separates Hitchens from the rather less tolerant Dawkins, the truly religious are incapable of “live and let live.” In other words, the biggest fault of organized religion is not its followers’ decision to believe fantasy at the expense of reality, but their insistence on proselytizing and converting others. Feel free to take issue with that hypothesis; just know there are 300+ pages of analysis to back it up.

So why, after pages upon pages of truly impressive writing and thinking, does it still feel kind of sad to agree with Hitchens? Sort of like finding out Santa Claus doesn’t exist—one part of you is scoffing at your own childhood gullibility, and the other is lamenting the loss of a figurative fat man shimmying down your chimney to deliver presents (that, by the way, exist regardless of whether you believe their provider is a jolly cookie lover or just your mom). I suppose this is the strength of the book; to force readers to drop any and all pretenses about the existence of a higher power, even if it means letting go of uplifting but otherwise unfounded hope.

At the end of the day, and all sacrificed fantasy aside, God Is Not Great makes one feel pretty damn smart, and if you’re willing to agree with Hitchens’ thinking, just a little elitist and superior to those masses still attached to their opiate. And at the very least, it’s a pretty good subway read.