A review by briancrandall
Zone by Mathias Énard

5.0

…let the simple worship me simply He said and I imagine the medieval sculptor scrubbing his little crucifix to paint it, singing hymns, smelling the red odour of the wood that’s more alive than marble, God at that time was everywhere, in the trees, in the cabinetmaker’s chisel, in the sky, the clouds and especially in the dense chapels dark as caves that you entered with terrified respect, where the thick incense penetrated a real curtain of smoke masking the beyond, and when you went home you were ready to have your feet nibbled by the devil in your bed, you were ready to be cured by a saint and blinded by the apparition of an angel…[243]