from George Saunders's 2017 novel "Lincoln In The Bardo", imagining a grief-stricken Abraham Lincoln's thoughts on the death of his third son Willie at age 11 in February 1862, less than a year into the Civil War

 

p. 244 in ch. LXXIV

I was in error when I saw him as fixed and stable and thought I would have him forever. He was never fixed, nor stable, but always just a passing, temporary energy-burst. I had reason to know this. Had he not looked this way at birth, that way at four, another way at seven, been made entirely anew at nine? He had never stayed the same, even instant to instant.

He came out of nothingness, took form, was loved, was always bound to return to nothingness.

Only I did not think it would be so soon.

Or that he would precede us.

Two passing temporarinesses developed feelings for one another.

Two puffs of smoke became mutually fond.

I mistook him for a solidity and now must pay.

I am not stable and Mary not stable and the very buildings and monuments here not stable and the greater city not stable and the wide world not stable. All alter, are altering, in every instant.

(Are you comforted?)

No.

 

p. 155 in ch. XLVIII

Trap. Horrible trap. At oneีs birth it is sprung. Some last day must arrive. When you will need to get out of this body. Bad enough. Then we bring a baby here. The terms of the trap are compounded. That baby also must depart. All pleasures should be tainted by that knowledge. But hopeful dear us, we forget.

 

 

******

 

 

The main characters in the book are actually ghosts, three or four main ones and dozens of others, passing the decades in a cemetery, mostly unaware they've died -- though they've taken on grotesque forms inspired by the obsessions that had kept them from fulfillment in life. They're in what the Tibetans call the "bardo", a transitional stage between death and rebirth. They're fascinated to see a child appear one night and they expect him to be on his way quickly to whatever comes next, but are amazed when the tall lanky living man comes to visit the boy in his tomb. They, having died during the Polk administration or thereabouts, have no idea who he is, but now they're torn between the hope of some attention from the world of the living, and their duty to make sure the boy moves on instead of joining them in their indeterminate state forever. The story is told via the ghosts' intertwined monologues alternating with historical sources providing context and narrative. It was a bestseller, won Britain's prestigious Man-Booker Prize for the best English language novel of 2017 -- annoying many Brits at the thought of their prize going to an American -- and is being developed into a movie by fans Nick Offerman (aka Ron Swanson in "Parks and Recreation") and Megan Mullally along with the author. It's a pretty fast read since the pages are full of lots of blank space due to the unusual storytelling technique. It is sad as the quotes suggest, but also funny and beautiful, and importantly, has a really good ending: a metaphor for Lincoln's dawning sense that slavery was the moral (not just political) issue driving the war.