Jan 25, 2017 08:22 PM
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This book is less a conversation than a tiresome monologue by Neale Donald Walsch, who in the process of instructing the reader to liberate himself by recognizing his own Self as God, paints an image of a God as small as himself.
Its filled with writer's own parochialism's and scars. His God is intolerant of any consumption of wine, but tolerant of mass murder as being merely "different".
I am quite amazed to see that this book is one of the series of two books out of them one has been the best seller. The story is anything but Philosophy or Religion. I found it more of a comedy.
I could spare two stars for making me laugh plus one star for an imaginative tale. Subtract two stars for trying to pawn off things like these as words of his God.
Don't waste your time for a Monologue!