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A review by selfmythologies
Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders
5.0
(spoilers, i guess?)
Where to even start reviewing this? Lincoln in the Bardo is.....so many things. An experimental novel. A reimagination of historical fiction. A philosophical exploration of grief and what it means to be human in the face of inevitable loss.
I'm gonna start with the aspect that made me connect to it initially:
It's a ghost story.
Most of the novel takes place on the cemetery where Abraham Lincoln's son Willie was buried, and (this apparently actually happened, historically) where Lincoln went, alone in the middle of the night, to grieve over his dead son's body. This is the basic premise, but the story is told by the various other occupants of the cemetery - spirits of people stuck in the place between life and death, the bardo.
I've always been fascinated by ghost stories precisely because of this idea of in-betwenness, of not quite being a part of life and standing outside it, but not being able to let go of it either. Something holds you back, some unfulfilled dream or some idea of vengeance you couldn't fulfill, or a regret you can't let go of, or worry about the people you loved. This is what the ghosts in this book deal with - every one of them has a reason to still be there, and a story to tell. They all feel forgotten, left behind by the world continuing on without them, and they want their story to be heard.
But this is also where, I think, describing this as historical fiction becomes true in a deeper sense: Because it's not just that there are historical figures inserted into some tale of magical realism. It's also painting a picture of the time - in a way, the graveyard is a microcosm of American society, and all of these individuals' stories are related to the larger circumstances of their lives - which is reflected in the way they speak (s o many interesting things are done with language in this book), or look, or the way racism or sexism shaped both their lives and their perspective on it after death.
But it's also about....human nature in general. These characters are all actively in denial that they're dead, because they're afraid of its finality. They want to believe that there's a way back to their life, that they're not out of options yet. All of that involves some pretty heavy questions like: What does freedom actually mean? Forever not being attached to anything, or being attached with the knowledge that you're inevitably going to lose whatever or whoever you're attached to?
It's this finality that also torments the living who are left behind. This is where the historical Lincoln and his son enter the picture. They're characterized by snippets from real historical documents, as well as ones invented by the author - I didn't look anything up, I actively don't want to know what's invented and what isn't. That's where the fascination of such a play with truth and fiction comes from, after all. It's also kind of hilarious how often these descriptions directly contradict themselves. What color did the moon have after all, that night the Lincolns threw a party? What color were his eyes? Was he a good father, or a neglectful one? We will never know. placing these snippets next to each other highlights the unreliability of 'objective' historical truth, because recollection is always flawed and highly influenced by individual perspective, experience, prejudice....etc
I think it's super interesting what kind of effect this had on my perspective as a reader on those figures/people: Simultaneously feeling distant from them (because you have so many options of what they could have been like, and you don't know which is real), and at the same time actually feeling closer to them (because these different perspectives actually make them seem three-dimensional, multifaceted, like real people are).
Anyway, the presence of Lincoln at the cemetery and his actions kind of turn the whole ghost society upside town, because it's extremely unusual for a living person to care this much - physically, in presence - about the dead.
I've read quite a lot of stories about grief, but this is definitely among the best ones, even though (or maybe because) it's really only a few smaller scenes where we get to hear Lincoln's thoughts. But grief fundamentally changes the way Lincoln sees life, makes him see the transcience of everything, puts him into a deep sense of melancholy. And in effect, makes him doubt the civil war that he's in the middle of. I liked this connection of the larger historical context to these extremely personal motivations. I also felt like the language - which is very stream-of-consciouness in those scenes - really turns these thoughts into emotional gut punches. It's all so raw and immediate. Extremely well done.
I also really want to talk about tone, because.....I've been trying to figure out what exactly the tone of this novel is, and I find it so hard because it's so unique, and doesn't fall into any of the cliches of ~detached pretentious avantgarde~. In my experience, the more experimental a work of literature, the more difficult it is to actually become emotionally attached to the characters, because there is often no linear plot and character development and everything's fractured and weird. Of course that is the point a lot of the time, it's more of an intellectual and impressionistic experience.
But this is not at all like that with this novel. The mindblowing thing is that I think the formal experimentation is what actually makes it so directly engaging. I already mentioned how the scattered, contradictory accounts of the historical characters actually made them feel more real than a straightforward narration probably would have. When it comes to the spirits of the dead people, it's even more interesting. A lot of the times, their dialogue feels very cartoon-ish, their appearances grotesque and over-exaggerated, as if it was all one big parody. There are a lot of hilarious moments, in a kind of 'funny because it's so absurd and out there' way. But then again, there are moments that seemed to be portrayed in an entirely genuine way - when they tell their stories, or when all those ghosts united to a common purpose and they were released of what held them back and restored a part of their humanity. That genuinely got to me.
I think ultimately, that's what this novel gets at - a shared sense of human experience in all those fragmented stories, reports and tales and glimpses of consciouness. A sense of loss, vulnerability and limitation that is part of what it means to be human, and that we all have to deal with somehow, but that's a bit less terrible knowing that we all share it.
Anyway, the gist of all this is: This is one of the most interesting novels I've ever had the fortune of reading. It seems totally unique to me, and it's definitely definitely worth reading, and worth thinking about for a long time after that.
5/5
Where to even start reviewing this? Lincoln in the Bardo is.....so many things. An experimental novel. A reimagination of historical fiction. A philosophical exploration of grief and what it means to be human in the face of inevitable loss.
I'm gonna start with the aspect that made me connect to it initially:
It's a ghost story.
Most of the novel takes place on the cemetery where Abraham Lincoln's son Willie was buried, and (this apparently actually happened, historically) where Lincoln went, alone in the middle of the night, to grieve over his dead son's body. This is the basic premise, but the story is told by the various other occupants of the cemetery - spirits of people stuck in the place between life and death, the bardo.
I've always been fascinated by ghost stories precisely because of this idea of in-betwenness, of not quite being a part of life and standing outside it, but not being able to let go of it either. Something holds you back, some unfulfilled dream or some idea of vengeance you couldn't fulfill, or a regret you can't let go of, or worry about the people you loved. This is what the ghosts in this book deal with - every one of them has a reason to still be there, and a story to tell. They all feel forgotten, left behind by the world continuing on without them, and they want their story to be heard.
But this is also where, I think, describing this as historical fiction becomes true in a deeper sense: Because it's not just that there are historical figures inserted into some tale of magical realism. It's also painting a picture of the time - in a way, the graveyard is a microcosm of American society, and all of these individuals' stories are related to the larger circumstances of their lives - which is reflected in the way they speak (s o many interesting things are done with language in this book), or look, or the way racism or sexism shaped both their lives and their perspective on it after death.
But it's also about....human nature in general. These characters are all actively in denial that they're dead, because they're afraid of its finality. They want to believe that there's a way back to their life, that they're not out of options yet. All of that involves some pretty heavy questions like: What does freedom actually mean? Forever not being attached to anything, or being attached with the knowledge that you're inevitably going to lose whatever or whoever you're attached to?
It's this finality that also torments the living who are left behind. This is where the historical Lincoln and his son enter the picture. They're characterized by snippets from real historical documents, as well as ones invented by the author - I didn't look anything up, I actively don't want to know what's invented and what isn't. That's where the fascination of such a play with truth and fiction comes from, after all. It's also kind of hilarious how often these descriptions directly contradict themselves. What color did the moon have after all, that night the Lincolns threw a party? What color were his eyes? Was he a good father, or a neglectful one? We will never know. placing these snippets next to each other highlights the unreliability of 'objective' historical truth, because recollection is always flawed and highly influenced by individual perspective, experience, prejudice....etc
I think it's super interesting what kind of effect this had on my perspective as a reader on those figures/people: Simultaneously feeling distant from them (because you have so many options of what they could have been like, and you don't know which is real), and at the same time actually feeling closer to them (because these different perspectives actually make them seem three-dimensional, multifaceted, like real people are).
Anyway, the presence of Lincoln at the cemetery and his actions kind of turn the whole ghost society upside town, because it's extremely unusual for a living person to care this much - physically, in presence - about the dead.
I've read quite a lot of stories about grief, but this is definitely among the best ones, even though (or maybe because) it's really only a few smaller scenes where we get to hear Lincoln's thoughts. But grief fundamentally changes the way Lincoln sees life, makes him see the transcience of everything, puts him into a deep sense of melancholy. And in effect, makes him doubt the civil war that he's in the middle of. I liked this connection of the larger historical context to these extremely personal motivations. I also felt like the language - which is very stream-of-consciouness in those scenes - really turns these thoughts into emotional gut punches. It's all so raw and immediate. Extremely well done.
I also really want to talk about tone, because.....I've been trying to figure out what exactly the tone of this novel is, and I find it so hard because it's so unique, and doesn't fall into any of the cliches of ~detached pretentious avantgarde~. In my experience, the more experimental a work of literature, the more difficult it is to actually become emotionally attached to the characters, because there is often no linear plot and character development and everything's fractured and weird. Of course that is the point a lot of the time, it's more of an intellectual and impressionistic experience.
But this is not at all like that with this novel. The mindblowing thing is that I think the formal experimentation is what actually makes it so directly engaging. I already mentioned how the scattered, contradictory accounts of the historical characters actually made them feel more real than a straightforward narration probably would have. When it comes to the spirits of the dead people, it's even more interesting. A lot of the times, their dialogue feels very cartoon-ish, their appearances grotesque and over-exaggerated, as if it was all one big parody. There are a lot of hilarious moments, in a kind of 'funny because it's so absurd and out there' way. But then again, there are moments that seemed to be portrayed in an entirely genuine way - when they tell their stories, or when all those ghosts united to a common purpose and they were released of what held them back and restored a part of their humanity. That genuinely got to me.
I think ultimately, that's what this novel gets at - a shared sense of human experience in all those fragmented stories, reports and tales and glimpses of consciouness. A sense of loss, vulnerability and limitation that is part of what it means to be human, and that we all have to deal with somehow, but that's a bit less terrible knowing that we all share it.
Anyway, the gist of all this is: This is one of the most interesting novels I've ever had the fortune of reading. It seems totally unique to me, and it's definitely definitely worth reading, and worth thinking about for a long time after that.
5/5