To whomever it was (a clandestine agglomeration of you, no doubt) who dropped off that funny yellow volume between my front doors:
Yes, I do like prosthetic gods, as a concept, though I haven’t much enjoyed the book, and lately I’ve grown tired of unbridled analysis and decomposition. But the title reminds me of Small Gods, an SF novel by Terry Pratchett, with some wonderful paradigm-baiting conceptual angles. Foster’s book, of course, is not SF, not at all. It is a grand explosion of PF (Psychological Fiction) based on the notion that all things, if thoroughly disintegrated in a merciless beam of partisan jargon, can be reduced to mere confirmational shrapnel.