When a duplicitous evangelist avails himself of Honey’s brothel and convinces her that saving souls is far easier and more lucrative than managing a whorehouse, she gives herself to Jesus during a Pentecost service in a false confession so convincingly acted that no one in the church doubts that they have witnessed a true miracle, God’s carving of an apostle from the heart of a whore. Replete with glossolalia, snake handling, and the reframing of stories she wrote as a child into parables, her services so conflate the sensual and sacred, that few within range of her call can resist coming to Jesus—and bringing their money with them.
Jimmey begins as a devout divinity student but experiences a crisis of faith triggered by his sexually-abused roommate’s leap from the chapel bell tower. Though he tries to recover his faith by way of a sojourn in the wilderness and a search for a church that practices a compassionate Christianity, his journey ultimately cripples what little bit of faith he’s left with.
Jimmey’s and Honey’s stories continually diverge and reconnect, each the singular anchor in the other’s life as they struggle to make sense of the world and understand just what it is they are to each other.
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Getting a vasectomy these days can be a responsible social gesture, but for Hank and Chuck back in 1950s Appalachia, it’s but a boozy night’s whim and all about hating to use rubbers, leaving them unprepared for how complicated their lives are about to get because nobody told them that they would have to keep using those slimy things until they’d experienced twenty ejaculations. With malleable resolve, they work through the embarrassment of producing semen samples, counting down their ejaculations, and actually talking about sex with their partners. They also bravely confront daunting obstacles of mean-spirited doctors and nurses, judgmental preachers, just plain nasty neighbors, a partner’s infidelity, and an inexplicable out-of-wedlock pregnancy—all while falling in love and without anybody getting shot. A comedic masterpiece according to almost all of the author’s relatives, pretty much except for that one aunt who’s had it in for him since he was a kid.
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“No Place to Pray is located at the creative nexus where Faulkner, Cormac McCarthy, and Richard Pryor converge. Rarely do writers explore, much less depict with insight, irony, and comedy, the endless lower depths of American culture…” –Larry Bensky, Executive Producer, “Radio Proust;” and former contributing editor to the Los Angeles Times Book Review
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