Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders Review

11 year old Willie Lincoln died in 1862 and his dad, President Abraham Lincoln, was very sad. That’s the premise, “story” of THE ENTIRE BOOK and overall message in one!

I’ve been a fan of George Saunders’ books for a long time so I’m delighted that he’s become famous now with this, his first novel, Lincoln in the Bardo. Though “novel” is both a misnomer and apt descriptor; it’s structured and reads like a play instead of a novel, while the format is a novelty from the traditional structure of a novel.

The structure may explain some of the positive reviews as I expect this book would translate well into audio. Reading it without the benefit of professional actors taking on the myriad roles though only drew attention to the dearth of substance in Saunders’ tale (perhaps fitting given that most of the cast are spirits!), in particular the alternating chapters composed of dry repetitive snippets from history books emphasising the same thing – the President was sad his boy was dead, the civil war was going on, etc.

The bardo is a kind of purgatory in Tibetan Buddhism, a limbo between life and rebirth. Here it’s filled with shades unable to move into the next plane of existence and is where Willie ends up and spends most of the book. He tries to go back to be with his father, Abe visits Willie’s coffin, hugging the boy’s corpse in the days after his passing, various shades try to create a connection between the two, and that’s it. It’s an extremely uneventful and dull narrative.

Aside from a couple of potty-mouthed punkolas and a nutty military dude, all the characters sound alike. As well as an absence of story, there didn’t seem to be a point, unless Saunders is suggesting that Tibetan Buddhism is for reals! There’s barely enough material here to cover a short story, let alone a 350-page novel! The title is somewhat ambiguous – which Lincoln is in the bardo? Willie might be in a literal bardo while Abe is in an emotional/metaphorical bardo – ooooh, give that man a literary prize!! The more award-winning books I read, the more they cement my belief that they’re overrated twaddle.

Saunders attempts a contrived finale that falls flat because there’s no buildup and it comes out of nowhere. It was never clear that that was the goal or why what was revealed by Willie had never occurred to any of them before or how something like that could… benefit, I think?... the shades. It’s a very murky and messy conclusion.

George Saunders’ short story collections Civilwarland in Bad Decline and Pastoralia, as well as his book of reportage, The Brain-Dead Megaphone, are terrific and he’s definitely a writer I recommend, but Lincoln in the Bardo is among his worst books despite, ironically, being his most successful; not as bad as The Brief and Frightening Reign of Phil but it’s definitely down there. Boring crap from start to finish – don’t bother with this one!