THE FACE OF GOD

A successful but cynical and discontented artist gets a peculiar commission and a shot at moral redemption in this novel.

Martin Drake is a world-renowned artist, celebrated for his work as a sculptor of mostly abstract pieces. As a result of his fame, he leads a life of indulgent prodigality in New York City, one as luxurious as it is obscene and empty. But despite his acclaim, he’s disgusted with his own life and believes himself a fraud who abandoned his artistic principles for commercial accomplishments. At yet another winning exhibition, billionaire Harry Banks offers him a strange proposition. In exchange for a whopping $1 million, Martin must accept a commission to produce a sculpture of the face of God for Father Manoel da Silva Teixeira, a priest who is a “devoted crusader for the underclass” in Brazil. Father Manoel is horrified—he sees Martin’s art as profane trash, a soulless exercise in adolescent sacrilege. As offended as Martin is by Father Manoel’s assessment—one shared by Harry—the sculptor accepts the commission for the sake of the money. Brewer sensitively depicts the opportunity for moral and artistic reform this gives Martin as well as the daunting difficulty of the sculpture itself: “Trying to display all that God was, in one certain form, would be like trying to capture the sea in a teardrop, but infinitely more difficult. The most gifted visionary would fall far short. God was beyond comprehension.”

The author delicately limns Martin’s downward spiral into a life of ignoble dissipation, one marked by extraordinary self-debasement as well as the terrible loss of love. And Father Manoel is presented as much more than “a Bible-thumping Amazonian.” The priest astutely sees, under a surface of artistic debauchery, a deep reserve of genuine potential in Martin’s work: “They were grotesque, and clearly they were manifestations of an angry psyche straining for truth ever-further in the wrong direction. But there was something else to those bronzes: although they were ugly and malformed, they showed something more—a tremendous raw talent.” Still, Brewer’s story is far too condensed—under 250 pages—to have time to develop Martin’s reversal of character, a metamorphosis that is delivered too quickly and is therefore as implausible as his commission. Especially given the depths of Martin’s moral depravity—depths deftly, affectingly described by the author—readers are led to expect a tougher slog toward enlightenment. In addition, Brewer’s writing can mix florid overstatement with shopworn clichés. Consider this depiction of one of Martin’s sculptures: “Etched with the beauty and wisdom of the ages, glowing with a power beyond the realm of understanding, it was he himself that stared back.” Nevertheless, the author provides an intriguing critique of the contemporary art world—subsumed by money and careerism, it conflates the ostentatiously reprobate with edgy creativity. Furthermore, Brewer manages to pull off a difficult trick—he has composed a deeply religious novel that wears its spirituality lightly. While the book revolves around the redemptive powers promised by a submission to God, it avoids tendentious sermonizing.

A thoughtful, engaging meditation on the intersection of artistic and spiritual integrity.