
When the guest list for this year’s Auckland Writers Festival was announced, the book cognoscenti of New Zealand were particularly agog about an author called George Saunders, who I didn’t know anything about.
I finished reading his book Lincoln in the Bardo last night, and without a doubt it is one of the best books I’ve ever read. It was one of those rare visceral reading experiences where your body and mind are engaged, ravaged, revived. The only other time I’ve felt my innards and psyche so impacted by a book is when I read House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski and felt queasy and woozy from its spookiness.
I cried a million variety of tears reading Lincoln in the Bardo, and bought utterly into its surreal world. If it turns out the afterlife is like the Bardo as George Saunders describes it, you know I wouldn’t be surprised.
So next step I am buying this book. It’s a keeper.
I also want to fill a notebook with quotes from it.
All I can say is Read it.
Oh my God, read it.
More George
I’ve listened to this 15 Minutes: a podcast about fame (Brilliant -and ended up in a Twitter chat with the interviewer Jamie Berger).
But will delve into these later: