"A Choice of Gods" by Clifford D. Simak (1972)

"He did not like the idea of visiting the robot installation, he recoiled against the robot, Hezekiah, riding in a canoe, sharing even temporarily this ancient way of life, but Jason was quite right - it was the only thing to do, it was the only chance they had."

Clifford Simak wrote a whole mess of books.  Some of these I've read.  Others I haven't read.  Almost none of them I remember.  As sci-fi authors go he's strictly B-grade, perhaps worthwhile if you want to read some random book about robots and spaceships, but certainly not worth the effort if you're looking for something that makes you think.

"A Choice of Gods" has something to do with some kind of alien intelligence, discovered at the far reaches of the galaxy.  Then there's some kind of disappearance, wherein most of the (bad) people are magically transported to a galaxy far, far away.  Those left on earth develop the ability to not only teleport but also to communicate telepathically.  Meanwhile the Native Americans go back to being idealized Native Americans, in tune with the Earth in some way that white guys will never understand.

The above paragraph is about as coherent I can be on the subject of this book.  Beyond that the plot really doesn't make a lot of sense, and as it progressed I began to dislike the protagonists more and more.  There was a point at the end where the main character was saying something like, "We're telepaths, and we're better than you, so you guys need to go back into space!" and I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself.

In my humble opinion, the real problem with Clifford Simak was the fact that he was a science fiction author who never held any sympathy for science.  He is constantly extolling the virtues of a small town (or rural) existence to the detriment of "progress."  In his heart of hearts, Simak didn't really want to see a technologically advanced future.  He didn't think that science could solve everyday problems, or the dilemmas of human existence.  He wanted to bury his head in Americana.

And all of that would have been fine - IF he'd been writing books about life in small town America.  But somehow he got stuck (or he stuck himself) as a science fiction writer, and from that point on he was condemned to explore and elaborate upon a genre he never really believed in.

Oh, and by the way, the title of this novel has almost nothing to do with the story.  I can think of no point in the narrative where anyone is choosing any kind of god, or where any god presents itself for the choosing.  It's a mess, for sure.