Compassion contradiction

George Saunders became the second American (and second in a row) to win the Man Booker Prize, for his first novel, Lincoln in the Bardo. Author Neil Smith interviewed Saunders at the book’s release. Here is an extended version of their exchange (edited for clarity and length): was going to do it: via a 19th-century form of Total War. So, these two facts just stood there, looking at me with curiosity, like, “Well, which one of us do you choose?” And in those situations, in fiction, the best answer is: both. Or, since both of you are true, I have to try to find a way to accommodate you both, to let the two of you co-exist. What had looked like an artistic impasse suddenly seemed like the truth of Lincoln’s situation, and at least a viable version of how he actually might have resolved it within himself.

After the fact, that looks like it necessitated being inside Lincoln’s brain, but I’d say it was more about being actively inside one’s own text, if that makes sense.

QI love you; and two, you and I are temporary. This is the reason people get driven insane by grief. The trick as I see it is to try to begin to accept that we are all conditional, and yet live in as happy and positive a way as we can. That all sounds pretty good but it’s virtually impossible except, I think, for a handful of spiritually awakened people in the history of the world. But maybe there’s some value in remembering Chekhov’s notion that art doesn’t have to solve problems, it just has to formulate them correctly. So if we formulate this problem correctly – we die, we really do die – then maybe we do some small work in puncturing our own delusions.

Q