The Dead Father by Donald Barthelme

The Dead Father is a giant, a god who is almost but not quite dead. He is dragged through the countryside to his burial plot by a small group of humans who taunt and flirt with Him by turns. Barthelme uses a variety of experimental literary techniques to communicate the story, including long pages of short, random dialogue and paragraphs of clipped sentences conveying the actions and thoughts and words of each character. Absurdist humor abounds, along with biblical mimicry and detailed/weird sexual deviations in the bushes and it had me laughing most of the way through. The only parts that I found dull were the long pages of random snatches of wildly different conversations that really had very little to do with anything. Occasionally they were entertaining though, as here (italics mine):

"Sitting on some steps watching the tires of parked cars crack.
Shame, which has made marmosets of so many of us.
Mandrills watching from the sidelines with their clear, intelligent eyes.
Very busy making the arrangements.
Appeals to idealism.
Grocers wearing pistol belts.
It's perfectly obvious.
I was astonished to discover that his golden urine has a purple stripe in it." (150)

Two other weird snippets of conversation I liked:

"Animals in which the brain strangles the esophagus." (153)

"Tears some meat from his breast and puts it on a bun." (155)

It is evening, the party comes to a halt by the road side to make camp for the night. The Dead Father is contentedly strumming his guitar, the men are preparing trout for dinner:

"Waning or demise of sun. The projector is set up for projection of the pornographic film. Thomas decides that the Dead Father is not allowed to view the film, because of his age. Outrage of the Dead Father. Death of the guitar, whanged against a tree, in outrage. Guitar carcass added to the fire. Thomas adamant. The Dead Father raging. Emma regnant. Julie staring. Trout browning. Thomas walks to the edge. Regards the edge. Aspect of one about to hurtle over the. Thomas retreats from the edge. Slivered almonds distributed over various trouts browning in various skillets. Projector casts image upon screen (collapsible/portable). The Dead Father led away and chained to an engine block abandoned in a farther field. Revilings by the Dead Father. Damn your eyes, etc. Ignoring by Thomas. The film." (21)

The men pulling the cable attached to the Dead Father are starting to have misgivings, and ask Thomas if they're doing the right thing:

"An occasion. Thomas rising.

Your questions are good ones, he said. Your concern is well founded. I can I think best respond by relating an anecdote. You are familiar I take it with the time Martin Luther attempted to sway Franz Joseph Haydn to his cause. He called Haydn on the telephone and said, "Joe, you're the best. I want you to do a piece for us." And Haydn just said, "No way, Marty. No way."

You have got the centuries all wrong and the telephone should not be there and anyway I do not get the point, said Edmund.

You see! Thomas exclaimed. There it is! Things are not simple. Error is always possible, even with the best intentions in the world. People make mistakes. Things are not done right. Right things are not done. There are cases which are not clear. You must be able to tolerate the anxiety. To do otherwise is to jump ship, ethics-wise.

I hate anxiety, Edmund said. He produced a flask and tilted it.
Have some? he asked Thomas.
What is it?
Paint thinner with a little grenadine.
I'll pass thanks, Thomas said." (92-93)

Nolan, this one is for you. At the beginning, Julie and Thomas are arranging a time to meet for clandestine activities:

"Nine o'clock?
Ten o'clock.
I have to have bed check for the men at ten o'clock. What about eleven o'clock?
I think I can make eleven o'clock. Let me look in my book.
She looked in her book.
"Eleven o'clock, then, she said, writing a note in her book. Under the trees?
Under the stars, said Thomas.
The trees, said Julie, looks like rain.
If no rain, then the stars, said Thomas. If rain, then the trees.
Or the hedge, said Julie. Wet and dripping. Mulchy.
What are you arranging? asked the Dead Father. Could it be an assignation?
Nothing, said Julie. Nothing you should concern yourself about, dear old soul.
The Dead Father flang himself to the ground.
But I should have everything! Me! I! Myself! I am the Father! Mine! Always was and always will be! From whom all blessings flow! To whom all blessings flow! Forever and ever and ever and ever! Amen! Beatissime Pater!
He is chewing the earth again, Julie observed. One would think he would tire of it.
Thomas began singing, in a good voice.
The Dead Father stopped chewing the earth.
That is one I like, he said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his golden robe.
For thine, Thomas sang, in a good voice, is the kingdom, and the power, and the glo-ree, for-EVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV-er...
That is one I like, said the Dead Father, I have always liked that one.
Thomas stopped singing. " (156-157)

(New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1975)