Richard Bach and Shimoda meet in a meadow just north of Ferris, Illinois.

(As my overwhelming hostility toward cuteness in art is not necessarily an aesthetic issue, I will refrain from commenting on this 'simply darling' touch.) Shimoda's story is told in the first 16 pages of the book, which are purported-with all apparent seriousness-to be genuine copies of the genuine grease-stained, fingerprinted notebook that Bach carries with him to jot down ideas. They stubbornly remain closet-messiahs who wish to suffer for God rather than to follow Shimoda. They cannot accept that their power would equal his own if only they would believe in it. Shimoda 'quits the messiah business' because people come only to see his miracles, not to learn. He has: a body and possessions that never get dirty, a slight halo, grand entrances, and a smug attitude. He can: heal the body of a crippled man and the spirit of a terrified young girl, make cryptic and profound remarks, create illusions, and perform miracles. Illusions is a 'what if' book: 'What if somebody came along who…could teach me how my world works and how to control it?…what if Siddharta or a Jesus came into our time?' In concrete terms, this ideal is Donald Shimoda, a 'messiah who quit.' He is not a symbolic messiah he is the real thing complete with standard equipment. In the preface to Illusions, Richard Bach claims that he does 'not enjoy writing at all.' The rest of the book stands as proof that you should not act against your feelings, for it is the most inane, pretentious, cute, and poorly written book I have ever read all of the way through.

Illusions book richard bach