In “Lincoln in the Bardo,” George Saunders—long celebrated as a master of the short story form—delivers a debut novel that defies conventional storytelling while simultaneously honoring its deepest traditions. Set during a single night in February 1862, the novel unfolds in a Georgetown cemetery where Abraham Lincoln visits the crypt of his recently deceased eleven-year-old son, Willie. From this seed of historical fact, Saunders cultivates a wildly imaginative exploration of grief, love, and the thin membrane separating the living from the dead.
The result is a work that combines historical fiction, supernatural fantasy, experimental form, and profound meditation on mortality. It’s a dazzling literary achievement that proves both deeply moving and occasionally frustrating, much like the spectral voices that populate its pages.
Structure: A Chorus of the Departed
Saunders structures his novel as a polyphonic assemblage of voices—a technique that feels simultaneously innovative and ancient. The narrative alternates between two distinct types of chapters: historical accounts (some real, some invented) and supernatural testimonials from the cemetery’s ghostly inhabitants.
The historical sections are composed of snippets from letters, diaries, memoirs, and other documents that describe Willie Lincoln’s illness and death, Abraham Lincoln’s grief, and the broader context of the Civil War. These passages, presented as a collage of quotations, offer contradictory accounts of the same events, highlighting the subjective nature of historical record—what one observer describes as a “full moon that night was yellow-red” another insists “there was no moon that night and the sky was heavy with clouds.”
The supernatural sections are narrated primarily by three ghosts: Hans Vollman (a middle-aged printer killed by a falling beam before consummating his marriage to a much younger bride), Roger Bevins III (a young gay man who committed suicide after a heartbreaking rejection), and the Reverend Everly Thomas (an elderly clergyman harboring a terrible secret about his eternal fate). These primary narrators are joined by a cacophony of other spirits, each trapped in their own version of denial about their deceased status—referring to their coffins as “sick-boxes” and their corpses as “sick-forms.”
This multitude of voices creates a democratic portrait of American society—spanning various races, classes, and moral dispositions—all equal in death yet still clinging to the prejudices and preoccupations that defined their lives.
Themes: The Tenacity of Existence
At its heart, “Lincoln in the Bardo” explores how we cling to life even when it has abandoned us. The ghosts inhabiting the cemetery refuse to acknowledge their deaths, creating elaborate justifications for their continued presence—they’re merely “sick” and awaiting recovery, or temporarily delayed before resuming their lives. This collective denial speaks to the universal human reluctance to accept our own mortality.
The novel’s central drama emerges when young Willie Lincoln, unlike most children who quickly pass on to whatever comes next, chooses to remain in the bardo—the Tibetan Buddhist term for the transitional state between death and rebirth. Willie’s decision to stay is reinforced when his grieving father visits the crypt and holds his body, giving the boy hope that he hasn’t been abandoned.
Saunders uses this supernatural premise to explore profound questions: How do we continue loving in a world where everything we love is temporary? How do we reconcile personal grief with collective suffering? What obligations do the living have to the dead, and the dead to the living?
Character Development: Spirits in Transition
Despite their otherworldly nature, Saunders’s ghosts are remarkably human—complex, flawed, and often comically self-deluded. Their developmental arcs mirror those in traditional fiction, with the most compelling transformations belonging to the three primary narrators.
Hans Vollman and Roger Bevins III evolve from self-absorbed specters fixated on their own unfulfilled desires to compassionate beings capable of selfless action. The Reverend Everly Thomas, haunted by his foreknowledge of a terrible judgment awaiting him, finds redemption through his sacrifice for Willie.
But the most moving character development belongs to Abraham Lincoln himself. Through the supernatural device of the ghosts entering his consciousness, we witness Lincoln’s interior struggle as he tries to reconcile his personal grief with his national responsibilities. The novel suggests that Lincoln’s intimate experience with death deepens his empathy for the suffering of others, including the thousands of young men dying in the Civil War, and strengthens his resolve to end the conflict as swiftly as possible, even if that means more immediate bloodshed.
Language: Morbid Poetry
Saunders’s prose style in “Lincoln in the Bardo” blends 19th-century formality with contemporary sensibility. The ghosts speak in distinctive voices that reflect their historical period while remaining accessible to modern readers. Some, like the profanity-spewing Eddie and Betsy Baron, provide comic relief with their anachronistic vulgarity (rendered with strategic dashes: “F—– them! Those f—–ing ingrate snakes have no G——ed right to blame us for a f—–ing thing…”).
The novel contains passages of extraordinary lyricism, particularly in its descriptions of the threshold between life and death. When ghosts “go on” to whatever comes next, they experience the “matterlightblooming phenomenon“—a transcendent moment described with metaphysical beauty. In one of the novel’s most moving sections, Roger Bevins catalogs the sensory pleasures he’s reluctant to abandon:
“Geese above, clover below, the sound of one’s own breath when winded.
The way a moistness in the eye will blur a field of stars; the sore place on the shoulder a resting toboggan makes; writing one’s beloved’s name upon a frosted window with a gloved finger.”
Strengths: Visionary Ambition
The novel’s greatest strengths lie in its visionary ambition and emotional power. By blending historical fact with supernatural fantasy, Saunders illuminates both the particular grief of Abraham Lincoln and the universal human struggle with mortality. The result is a work that feels simultaneously specific to its Civil War setting and timeless in its concerns.
The experimental structure, though initially challenging, ultimately enhances the thematic exploration of multiple perspectives. Just as the historical record contains contradictory accounts, our understanding of death comprises conflicting beliefs and experiences.
Most impressive is Saunders’s ability to balance philosophical depth with genuine emotional impact. For all its formal innovation and metaphysical speculation, “Lincoln in the Bardo” remains a deeply human story about love, loss, and the connections that persist beyond death.
Weaknesses: Formal Challenges
The novel’s unconventional structure presents significant challenges for readers. The constant shifting between narrators—often within the same paragraph—can be disorienting, requiring careful attention to distinguish between voices. Some readers may find the format unnecessarily fragmented, preferring a more straightforward narrative approach.
Additionally, the large cast of secondary ghost characters, while contributing to the novel’s democratic vision, sometimes feels overwhelming. Several spirits appear briefly, deliver their stories, and fade back into the background without substantial development or clear contribution to the central plot.
The bawdy humor and occasional vulgarity, though effective in establishing the ghosts’ humanity, might alienate readers expecting a more solemn treatment of historical figures and metaphysical themes. Saunders’s willingness to blend the profound with the profane is characteristic of his short fiction but represents a significant departure from traditional historical novels about Lincoln.
Comparison to Other Works
“Lincoln in the Bardo” marks a significant evolution in Saunders’s literary career. While his acclaimed short story collections like “Tenth of December” and “Pastoralia” demonstrated his gift for satirical wit and moral complexity in contemporary settings, his debut novel applies these strengths to historical material while expanding his formal experimentation.
The novel’s approach to historical fiction shares kinship with works like E.L. Doctorow’s “Ragtime” and Michael Ondaatje’s “The Collected Works of Billy the Kid,” which similarly blend documentary techniques with imaginative invention. However, Saunders’s supernatural framework more closely resembles magical realist novels like Gabriel GarcÃa Márquez’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude” or Toni Morrison’s “Beloved,” where ghosts function as literal presences and metaphors for historical trauma.
In its exploration of the afterlife as a transitional state where souls must confront their attachments before moving on, the novel invites comparison to Tibetan Buddhist texts like “The Tibetan Book of the Dead” as well as Western literary depictions of purgatory, from Dante’s “Divine Comedy” to Alice Sebold’s “The Lovely Bones.”
Final Assessment: A Singular Achievement
“Lincoln in the Bardo” represents a singular achievement in contemporary fiction—a work that expands the possibilities of the novel form while remaining deeply engaged with timeless human concerns. Though its experimental structure may alienate some readers, those willing to surrender to its unique rhythms will find a story of remarkable emotional and philosophical depth.
Saunders has crafted a ghost story that affirms life, a historical novel that speaks to the present, and an experimental work that honors literature’s oldest purpose: to help us understand what it means to be human in the face of inevitable loss. Like the spirits inhabiting its pages, the novel exists in a liminal space between genres, between history and fantasy, between sorrow and joy—a testament to fiction’s power to transcend boundaries while touching what is most essential in us.
Who Should Read This Book
- Readers who appreciate literary fiction that takes formal risks
- Fans of historical fiction that goes beyond straightforward narrative
- Those interested in American history, particularly the Civil War era
- Anyone who has experienced grief and contemplated mortality
- Readers who enjoy supernatural elements when used for profound thematic exploration
Who Might Want to Skip It
- Those who prefer linear narratives with a single, clear point of view
- Readers uncomfortable with explicit language and sexual references
- People seeking a traditional historical account of Lincoln’s presidency
- Those who dislike supernatural or fantastical elements in literary fiction
- Readers looking for a quick, plot-driven story rather than a reflective meditation
In the end, “Lincoln in the Bardo” reminds us that great literature, like great lives, derives meaning not from duration but from depth. In its ambitious form and compassionate vision, Saunders’s novel invites us to consider how we might live more fully by acknowledging our inevitable end—and how love might transcend even death’s seemingly impermeable boundary.