Let there be light The real story of her creation

God takes on the character of a long-suffering woman fruitlessly intent on pleasing men in this wry, satirical take on the book of Genesis. This is no straight adaptation; New Yorker cartoonist Finck twists the story, using it as a lens to examine everything from creativity and ambition to toxic masculinity. God creates the world but worries whether she's done enough; she creates man to keep her company, though she rarely reveals her true face. Man, meanwhile, filled with confidence after naming God's creations, is sure God is a man (to the eternal consternation of his maker). Throughout the generations, God draws farther and farther from her creation, and man struggles more and more with her absence. In her signature loose, scrawly style, occasionally broken up by more finely detailed crosshatched scenes, Finck uses the familiar stories in Genesis to consider how religion has shaped cultural expectations, as well as who has gotten left out of the stories--comically treated in "The Begats," for example, in which a series of men, grinning and bloody, personally birth scores of babies without a woman in sight. Rather than someone to be feared, in Finck's hands, God becomes someone to relate to, someone who strives, fails, gets angry, loves, and feels like she needs to hide. Somehow both reverent and irreverent, this will please philosophical readers with sharp senses of humor.

In an irreverent yet profound retelling of the Book of Genesis, Finck (Excuse Me) presents God as a woman artist wearing a Burger King--style crown who struggles with existential questions and intermittent depression (the beginning of creation is also "the beginning of disappointment"). The conceit begs being read as a counterplay to R. Crumb's Book of Genesis; in Finck's version, God seems more hurt and fallible than fickle: "As the world grew, she withdrew herself more and more" until "only in God's absence can we begin to comprehend her love for us." This cohesive and moving motif unfolds alongside the Old Testament stories of Cain and Abel, the bizarre "Begats" ("If you are easily bored, you may skip it"), Noah, etc., in whimsical black-and-white line drawings playfully punctuated by spot colors: red, for the Eden apple; one stripe of the post-flood rainbow; and of course Joseph's colorful coat. Finck leans into biblical idiosyncrasies while taking humanity quite seriously. Leah, the "idol" worshipped by Laban, looks like a giant sheet ghost; he's creepy as a man infatuated with an inflatable doll. But compassion from God, Rachel, and Esav make Leah real. Throughout, God and readers are reminded that light can't exist without darkness, or creation without destruction. Finck's exploration offers much light in both senses: levity and illumination. Agent: Meredith Kaffel Simonoff, Gernert Company. (Apr.)