Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders (2017)

In the midst of civil war, Abraham Lincoln's grief over the death of his child is witnessed by the dead who are still waiting to die.

Book Review: Lincoln in the Bardo in no ordinary book. Imaginative, it's told in different sections: the "factual" commentary of inconsistent historical quotes, which mix actual accounts of Lincoln and his son's death (e.g., Doris Kearns Goodwin) with Saunders' own similarly constructed fictional accounts; the commentary of the long and recently dead (ghosts) in the graveyard, caught between death and rebirth in the "bardo," a sort of Tibetan Buddhist limbo or purgatory; and the diary-like sections of those who observed Lincoln visiting the cemetery and describe his appearance, his actions, his grief. At times it's like history -- at times like a play. Each of the ghosts has an individual story to tell. Although complex at first, after some pages Lincoln in the Bardo becomes accessible; can't imagine listening to this on audio book, though, without at least following along on the page. This is a brilliant book, a tour-de-force, a worthy winner of the Man Booker Prize. It is a post-modern and intellectual take on loss, letting go, grief, acceptance of death, history, how we treat our fellow humans, and most of all, the denial of death. A book of deep empathy that allows both ambiguity and conflicting views. There is insight, intelligence, humor, irony, raunch, understanding, creativity, and even more creativity here. But as is so often the case for me in postmodern writing, there was too little emotional connection (I know many were in tears after reading this book). There were certainly moments: one would have to possess a heart of stone not to be touched by Lincoln's desolate grief for his son. The death of his son allows Lincoln to more fully understand the war and the needs of the nation, the morality of killing and the morality of letting others live their own lives. But I think I should have felt more, been made to feel more, the subject demanded I feel more (George, it's me, not you). Perhaps in trying to understand the intellectual, I forfeited some emotional understanding. Lincoln in the Bardo is certainly worth a revisit, and perhaps having grasped some of it intellectually, I'll be better able to absorb more of it emotionally on a second read. All in all, this was a mixed bag for me: recognizing its quality, the effort, the chance for me to learn and grow from this book, I was missing the feeling, the human sentiment, the connection I wanted.  [3½★]