George Saunders' latest novel, Vigil, is a haunting exploration of mortality, morality, and the futility of redemption. The story revolves around KJ Boone, an oil tycoon who has spent his life profiting from climate denial and environmental destruction. As he lies on his deathbed, Boone's mind becomes permeable to ghosts, including Jill Blaine, a spectral death doula who has helped hundreds of souls ease their way out of their bodies.
But while the ghostly visitations serve as a catalyst for moral inquiry, they also feel like a gimmick. Saunders' signature blend of dark humor and philosophical insight is still present, but it's hard to shake off the feeling that we're trapped in someone else's morality play. The novel's attempts to stage a lesson on the futility of corporate villainy ring hollow, particularly given the pervasive nature of structural violence in our society.
Meanwhile, Jill Blaine is the far more intriguing character. Her backstory, which has been erased from her memory, serves as a powerful metaphor for the devastating effects of forgetfulness and loneliness. As she tends to Boone's ghostly visitors, Blaine's own forgotten past returns, threatening to upend her carefully constructed amnesia.
Saunders' writing is often described as a "vigilantist fantasy," but Vigil feels more like a confrontation with the limits of our moral agency. The climate crisis doesn't have a clear villain or resolution; it's a complex web of structural violence that requires systemic change, not just individual repentance. Boone's fate serves as a stark reminder of this reality.
Ultimately, Vigil is a novel about the search for meaning and connection in a world that seems to be falling apart. While Saunders' signature style is still on full display, the book's attempts to stage a moral lesson feel forced, leaving the reader wondering if we'll ever find redemption for our complicity in the Anthropocene.
But while the ghostly visitations serve as a catalyst for moral inquiry, they also feel like a gimmick. Saunders' signature blend of dark humor and philosophical insight is still present, but it's hard to shake off the feeling that we're trapped in someone else's morality play. The novel's attempts to stage a lesson on the futility of corporate villainy ring hollow, particularly given the pervasive nature of structural violence in our society.
Meanwhile, Jill Blaine is the far more intriguing character. Her backstory, which has been erased from her memory, serves as a powerful metaphor for the devastating effects of forgetfulness and loneliness. As she tends to Boone's ghostly visitors, Blaine's own forgotten past returns, threatening to upend her carefully constructed amnesia.
Saunders' writing is often described as a "vigilantist fantasy," but Vigil feels more like a confrontation with the limits of our moral agency. The climate crisis doesn't have a clear villain or resolution; it's a complex web of structural violence that requires systemic change, not just individual repentance. Boone's fate serves as a stark reminder of this reality.
Ultimately, Vigil is a novel about the search for meaning and connection in a world that seems to be falling apart. While Saunders' signature style is still on full display, the book's attempts to stage a moral lesson feel forced, leaving the reader wondering if we'll ever find redemption for our complicity in the Anthropocene.