"This is God," the novel begins, and we are spinning on our way
into the heart of a Midwest that spans spirits and centuries and
forever redefines the middle of nowhere.Whispers plague a desperate
conquistador lost in tall prairie grass. Four hundred years later,
a male go-go dancer flings a bag of dope into the same field. God,
in the person of a perm-giving, sheetcake-baking Nebraska farm
woman, casts a jaundiced yet merciful eye over the unfolding chaos.
Fire and a pair of judiciously applied pantyhose bring the two
stories together. A contemplation of divinity and drugs on the
ground, Tin God is a funny yet poignant, time-shifting story of the
plains that transcends its interstate spine and exposes us to a
whole new level of Terese Svoboda's fiery prose.