I’ll be honest: I was not able to finish Lincoln in the Bardo, the famous novel by Saunders that stars Lincoln’s deceased son in limbo. I promise I tried; the image that Saunders painted of Lincoln embracing his son’s body is still stuck in my mind. What a haunting image of one of the few untarnished American saints! But ultimately the non-linear structure of the novel escaped my abilities at the time.
Vigil, Saunders’ newest novel, has the opposite problem. It was much more linear but harder to remember. I finished it barely a week or two ago, but I’ve already forgotten most of the characters and plot points. I can confidently state only that it is about an evil oil baron on his deathbed whom the protagonist must reform.
Ironically, I believe this book’s message is more important than Lincoln in the Bardo. It answers an old question: why does evil exist? The answer: self-interest and self-deception. The oil baron started out as an ambitious young man who realizes that global warming poses a challenge to the oil industry. After many weeks crafting a persuasive speech, he showcases his ability at spinning the narrative – calling into question the scientific consensus – at a large oil industry conference. This fateful speech wins him much acclaim from his self-interested peers in the industry and propels him to corporate success, where he continues to pay for anti-climate change propaganda. Eventually, he dies of old age in a burning world, believing till the end that it was not his fault. Our protagonist, the ghost of a woman who met an untimely death, is tasked with helping his soul move on via radical empathy, embodying his memories to understand him.
While the entire plot is not quite water-tight, the book’s theme of social versus individual responsibility strikes a haunting tone. This man – no matter the consequences of his actions – is just a cog in the system. Granted, he is a particularly large gear that especially damaged humanity. But we don’t know the counterfactual: if he had not fought for big oil, surely someone else would have. So, what’s the point to being moral and fighting against a rigged system and your own self-interest?
This idea is not anything new: the tragedy of the commons is fodder for young philosophers everywhere. But Saunders’ characters embody the arguments fiercely, with the guilt-free oil baron fighting against the guilt-ridden French inventor of the engine. In truth, the novel is a long argument for and against individual responsibility, and while it is spotted with dark humor and bursts of sparkling insight, I suspect a deep conversation with a friend about whether you should “sell out” may teach you everything you need to know.
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