George Saunders
Bloomsbury
Otago Daily Times, April 18th 2026
Despite claims by the political right that empathy and compassion are weak and toxic traits that should be eliminated from the culture, George Saunders considers the ability to put oneself into the mind of others, particularly those we disagree with, a powerful tool of resistance. It is something he as a writer has dedicated his career to, and an idea he explores explicitly in his latest novel.
The story is narrated by Jill “Doll” Blaine, a spirit who comforts the dying by forgiving their misdeeds, which are predetermined by the circumstance of their birth: “Inherent, fixed, non-negotiable… an inevitable occurrence, upon which, therefore, it would be impossible, even ludicrous, to pass judgement.”
It is a mission at which she excels and one that brings her great satisfaction. But her latest charge, oil-tycoon and architect of the climate-change denial movement, K.J. Boone, is a challenge. Not only is he proud of his legacy and thus needs no comfort, several other spectral attendants are also competing for his attention. These include a Frenchman who hopes to lead Boone “as quickly as possible, to contrition, shame and self-loathing” so that he can repent and make amends, and two of Boone’s former business partners, Mel G and Mel R, who are as predatory in death as they were in life.
The resulting three-way contest has quasi-religious overtones (Jill offers peace and absolution; the Frenchman repentance and reparation; the Mels an eternity of torture) and Saunders, a former student of Tibetan Buddhism, originally intended Jill to be “the unchallenged hero of the story.” It is through her immersion in Boone’s consciousness, that we see, for example, how his need for domination has its roots in ‘small man syndrome,’ childhood depravation, and the desire to earn his father’s respect.
These insights are salient reminders that the actions of even the most villainous are grounded in experiences that we can potentially relate to. But the writing progressed Saunders says that his surety in Jill’s conviction that “everything other than compassion is futile” wavered, and this is reflected in the storyline. Jill’s resolve falters as she becomes increasingly distracted by memories of her former life, which bring a “tendency towards judgement, and action, of dropping out from elevation” that threatens her ability to provide the unconditional compassion that is her reason d’etre. And the ambiguity of the novel’s ending suggests complete exoneration, even if it provides the giver with the moral high ground, is not an effective solution.
Nor, however, does the Frenchman’s strategy seem any more helpful since no matter how many of the dying he might convert, “the effect on the world would be …negligible”. Perhaps the real moral of the story comes from its exposure of the excuses and rationalisations by which Boone justifies his actions. By asking ‘Did you hear what he just said?’ Saunders challenges us to recognise such self-deceptions and the underlying issues they disguise in both others and ourselves. Maybe then we can address them before it is too late.