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Book Review: Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders

Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders

Random House, 2017

ISBN-13: 978-0812985405

Available: Hardcover, paperback, Kindle edition, audiobook, audio CD

 

Lincoln in the Bardo can be described as an American ghost story, but there is much more to it than ghosts in a graveyard. It’s not a book to zip through once and put down with the confidence that you have completely absorbed what it has to offer. Trying to describe it, and review it, has been difficult, but it is worth it. George Saunders won the Man Booker prize for literary fiction for this novel, but don’t let that influence whether you try it for yourself.

At the center of the story is the death of Abraham Lincoln’s son, Willie, and Lincoln’s grieving alone at night in the cemetery where Willie was laid to rest, although “laid to rest” isn’t really the best description for its residents. I didn’t know this, but a “bardo” is a Buddhist term for a kind of in-between or transitional state. The cemetery’s residents, who tell the majority of the story, are stuck in that transitional state, no longer alive but unable and unwilling to move on or even recognize that they are dead. When Willie arrives in the bardo, the other residents, based on their previous experience, expect that he will quickly move on, but when Lincoln returns to grieve, he promises to visit again, and Willie stays to make sure he is there when his father returns. Of course, as a ghost, he is unable to physically interact with his environment or with living people, and it isn’t as easy as it might seem for him to stay, especially without the help of the other ghosts of the cemetery. In fact, if he doesn’t move on, he may be taken by damned souls.

The narrative structure of the book is challenging. It alternates between sections that take place in the cemetery, with a variety of ghosts attempting to move the story forward, or include their own story, or push their way in, interrupting each other and editorializing on events and each other, and collections of multiple historical eyewitness accounts of the same events, mostly descriptions and opinions of the night Willie died and of Lincoln himself.

The parts in the cemetery can be very confusing, as the speakers (and there are many) are only named after they have spoken, so it’s not always clear who is telling the story. The reader certainly does get to see the democracy of death in America, though–  cemeteries include all kinds of people, from the repellent and hateful to decent and caring(and sometimes all of it in one person), but in this time, at the beginning of the Civil War, African-Americans are buried outside the fence and their ghosts have to rush the fence and fight off hateful racists to get in. Once they are in, many of them do speak up, and they remain some of the most powerful and lasting voices in the story.

The alternating sections of compiled contemporary eyewitness accounts are probably what was most fascinating to me. Many of them contradict each other: some are sympathetic, complimentary, or admiring, while others condemn him in the strongest terms. To see history, and Lincoln, through so many different eyes, is fascinating, and connects with Lincoln’s interior dialogue and terrible grief for both his own son, and for all of the sons he will be sending onto bloody battlefields, as imagined by Saunders. Even if the cemetery story is too much for you, I recommend at least looking through the book to see these accounts. About two-thirds of the way through you will find absolutely scathing comments and letters as bad as anything you can find about our president on the Internet.

While Lincoln in the Bardo can be read as a novel of historical fiction, or a portrait of grief, it can be funny, foul, and sometimes gross (I was not expecting a poop joke four pages in). There are many moments of tenderness, and, despite the grief, horror, denial, and anger that emerge in the cemetery, it is also hopeful for those in the bardo, and for freedom in America.

If you like your narratives to be straightforward, this is probably not the book for you. But if you are willing to try out this unusual narrative structure, and do some rereading for better understanding, this is a ghost story you won’t soon forget.

Contains: racial slurs, suicide, references to rape and child molestation.

Musings: Writing From The Heart: Strange Star by Emma Carroll and Out of the Wild Blue by Blue Balliett

Strange Star by Emma Carroll

Delacorte Books for Young Readers, 2018

ISBN-13: 978-0399556050

Available: Hardcover, Kindle edition

 

In a recent interview, R.L. Stine expressed his frustration with the writing advice “write from your heart.” To paraphrase, he said “I don’t write from the heart. I write to entertain.”

You may argue that Stine writes formula fiction, which can be predictable, and that it’s shallow to write only to entertain. Only you can make that decision, but know that just because you are writing out of love, that doesn’t mean your writing will be loved, or even understood, by the audience you are trying to reach. I’m writing about children’s books here because that’s what I love and where I’ve recently seen examples of this, but if you’re writing for any audience, this still applies. In general, people who read to escape are looking for a good story, one that flows. They don’t want to have to work for their chills and thrills. I think that’s particularly true for children and teens.

I’ve come across two books this month that illustrate this perfectly. The first one, which I recently reviewed here, Out of the Wild Blue, by the outstanding children’s author Blue Balliett, was a tribute to Nantucket and its ghosts. It is clever and literary, and the worst book she’s ever written. I read it because I was asked to by another school media specialist who couldn’t get through the first 20 pages. Both of us are baffled at the amazing reviews this book has gotten from other librarians and reviewers. Heavy on atmosphere, this book shorted us on character development and plot. It was WORK for me to get through it, and what kid wants to have to work for the creepiness and chills you expect in a ghost story? I mean, the story is practically a love letter, but it’s not successful as an accessible ghost story for children. Or, for that matter, for at least two other adults with expertise in children’s literature.

The second, Strange Star, by Emma Carroll, has a lot of originality, although it’s not necessarily successful at getting the reader to fully suspend disbelief, and some of the pieces don’t connect as smoothly as they could. Strange Star centers on the events of the “haunted summer” during which Mary Shelley first conceived of Frankenstein. The first point of view character, is Felix, a free black servant boy working for Lord Byron at the Villa Diodati, whose goal is to convince Byron to take him back to England as a footman. His story is told in third person. We get Felix’s impressions of Byron, the Shelleys, and their friends, and some pretty detailed information on them is communicated through him. Felix isn’t only used as a way to communicate information, though. He is a character with agency and his own motivations. The second point of view character, Lizzie, an English village girl who was struck by lightning, blinded, and kidnapped by a scientist obsessed with using electricity to resurrect the dead, speaks in her own voice. Her experience of the same group of people that Felix admires is a terrifying one.

The author named many of the fictional characters in the book after characters in Frankenstein as well, even naming the scientist Francesca Stine. She managed to include historical figures like William Godwin, Mary’s father (a relatively minor part of her life after she ran away with Shelley) as a character, whose motivations and actions help move the story toward its conclusion. The messages of and ideas behind the creation of Frankenstein come through clearly in the book—clearly Carroll did her research and used it creatively.

As someone who’s read Frankenstein and also read a lot about Mary Shelley, I found this to be really well done and clever. It is vivid, not just in its descriptions and setting (the title is Strange Star for a reason), but in its portrayal of terrible emotions, particularly grief. Carroll also did a nice job of seamlessly integrating diversity into her characters. But I am not the audience. This is a book written for middle-schoolers, most of whom will not yet have read Frankenstein or heard of Mary Shelley. They won’t even yet have encountered the work of Percy Shelley or Lord Byron. They will miss most of the references and won’t be able to connect the dots when things are implied rather than stated outright (okay, maybe you don’t want them to figure out that Claire Clairmont has a thing going on with Byron). You would have to love Frankenstein and be fascinated with the life of Mary Shelley to write this book, but so much of it will be above the heads of the readers it is targeted for!

I’m sure there are more readers for this than for Balliett’s book, because Carroll handles plot and character development much more effectively—parts of the book are disturbing and even terrifying—but while Strange Star is definitely one to remember, and certainly one I’d recommend to fans of Mary Shelley, it’s more the book that Carroll wanted to write than the one her target audience will appreciate.

As an adult choosing or reviewing a children’s book for a child or teen, it can be easy to forget that we can’t read these books as if they’re written for us when making recommendations. And as an adult choosing to write a book for a child or teen, or really anyone looking to read for pleasure, it’s important to recognize that, if you want to reach readers, writing from your heart is not enough.

 

Book Review: Out of the Wild Night by Blue Balliett

Out of the Wild Night by Blue Balliett

Scholastic, 2018

ISBN-13: 978-0545867566

Available: Hardcover, paperback, Kindle edition, audiobook

 

Blue Balliett is a gifted writer with a lyrical voice and quirky tone to her books. Typically she writes what I would describe as puzzle-box mysteries– they have many complex and seemingly unrelated pieces that have to be pulled into place at the right time by their child protagonists to solve a crime that involves a literary or artistic work of some kind. Since her first book, Chasing Vermeer,  was published, a number of other children’s books that require the characters to solve puzzles and codes have come out, but hers remained an outstanding and unique voice, although her narratives have gotten more difficult to navigate, and some books have been better than others. I picked this one up when a colleague told me she was unable to get more than 20 pages in. Surely she couldn’t be speaking of a book by Blue Balliett?

In Out of the Wild Night,  Balliett is trying something completely new– a ghost story, told by a ghost, that takes place on Nantucket, where a greedy real estate investor is buying up historic houses and gutting them to replace the original interiors with modern, updated ones, much to the consternation of some local children and, apparently, some very unhappy ghosts. Balliet’s stories often involve object conservation or historic preservation, and in this case, the absent mother of Phoebe, one of the children, is away studying historic preservation while the houses on Nantucket are being subjected to “renovation.”

My original thought was that Balliett wanted to write about Nantucket more than she wanted to write a good ghost story for children, and a well-hidden author’s note at the back bears that out. Balliett lived in Nantucket more than once, as a teenager and young adult, and it is clear that she deeply loves it and wants to share it with her readers… and for her, living in Nantucket is inextricably intertwined with ghosts.  But her choice of a a 100-year-old ghost woman unable to impact her world or even feel much as a narrator, instead of a child protagonist led to a faded story and atmosphere, and the characters seem like they are afterthoughts. It’s unlike Balliett to leave ends dangling, but while I struggled to get through a majority of the book, in which it seemed that nothing happened, after several rereads of the end chapters I’m still unsure of what actually happened to resolve events as they did. You’d have to be a very careful reader to arrive at her big reveal without being completely confused.

Despite her love of Nantucket and its ghosts, and as lyrical as her writing can be, Balliett fails to evoke the sense of place she’s working to create in her fiction that I’ve felt in books that do bring similar locations to life, such as Rass Island in Jacob Have I Loved, where the environment was intimately tied to the protagonist’s emotional intensity. In her follow-up note, Balliett’s evocation of Nantucket is much stronger than it is in the novel, and I’m left thinking that she wrote the wrong book, and would have done better to create a connected collection of ghost stories of and nonfiction sketches about Nantucket.

As much as I love Balliett’s work, especially Chasing Vermeer, she failed her readers in this book. It does not completely develop either the small world of Nantucket or the Gothic feel of a ghost story, but the pieces aren’t there to put a mystery together; the pacing is slow, the characters aren’t given the space they need to develop, the narrator is ineffective at communicating, and the plot does not hang together. As it is, the primary thing it accomplishes is to briefly bring attention to Nantucket, the importance of restoring the interiors of historic houses, and of building a sense of community. Balliett is clever and creative in her writing, but it’s frustrating to get to the payoff, and more work that the children in the target age range for this book are probably willing to do.

I hope to see another great book from Balliett soon. Sad to say, this one isn’t worth the time and work it takes to read it. Appropriate for ages 9-12, and middle school library collections.

Contains: violence, attempted murder