“Act of God’: Book belies slapstick humor, goes deeper

Dealing with mold is never pleasant. Jill Ciment's remarkable new novel takes that unpleasantness a step further, introducing the world to a killer neon mold with deadly airborne spores. The outbreak upends four characters' lives in tragic and beautiful ways, resulting in a novel that is as surprising and moving as nature itself.

Set in Brooklyn, N.Y., in the not-so-distant future, 'Act of God” (Pantheon, $23) begins with Edith, a recently retired legal librarian, and Kat, her feckless twin sister who 'had always mistaken irresponsibility for daring.” The two women find 'a small phosphorus organism, about as bright and arresting as a firefly's glow” in their hall closet.

Meanwhile their upstairs landlady, a Shakespearean actress now more famous for her commercials for Ziberax (the first female sexual enhancement pill), finds a young Russian woman has been living in her closet. In the scramble to flee the property, the young woman discovers her sheets are covered in the same neon mold.

HAZMAT arrives and the four women find themselves out on the street with nothing. This is all within the first few pages. What follows is the story of how these women claw their way back to life, after having everything they know crumble around them.

Told in short chapters that alternate in perspective between the four women, 'Act of God” begins as a campy, almost slapstick book, and quietly moves into deeper territory, raising questions about who in life deserves to be forgiven, what constitutes an act of God (from both a legal and metaphysical standpoint), and how sometimes it takes a tragedy for us to really know each other - and ourselves.

'Act of God” is a work to be treasured, respected and, most of all, enjoyed - like life itself.