Maybe cavemen had it right

George Saunders is a fiction writer and
professor at Syracuse University.

George Saunders can call people stupid to their face without their realizing it. He can make people think while telling them that they never think. He can draw people into a story so deeply that by the end they believe in ghosts and fantastic memory-removal machines and modern-day cavemen.

A friend of mine is a creative writing major at Columbia College in Chicago, and the day after I lent him Saunders’ collection Civilwarland in Bad Decline he called me. The conversation began with nearly a minute of silence on his end of the line, punctuated with him muttering, “I…I, uh…” and then laughing maniacally.

He finally managed to get out that he’d stayed up half the night reading the book through, and he described Saunders’ style best when he said that Saunders was the only writer he had read who can make him laugh at the beginning of a sentence and then begin to cry by the end.

Saunders was born in Texas but raised in Chicago, and it shows. His writing shows a Midwest sensibility that questions everything about the American lifestyle, from media to consumerism to daily interactions. And like many Midwesterners, Saunders is indeed weird.

His birthplace lacks influence in his writing, as there is no real Texan bravado. No offense to Texans of course, as Texan bravado is just A-okay in my book (if I ever visit Texas again and I encounter a blog-reader, I’d like to make sure that blood is the only substance coursing through my veins).

Saunders is clearly a student of Vonnegut in his sparse prose and ironic droll, but his criticisms are so much more specific and biting, whereas Vonnegut attacked the larger culture. Also, Saunders attacks without being obvious, as it seems more that he is wandering through American culture wild-eyed and just as confused as the rest of us.

I have nothing against Vonnegut—my facebook religious views are listed as Bokononist-Catholic—but let’s face it, he was an amiable asshole. Saunders pulls off amiable and emotional and intelligent all at once while railing against the arbitrariness of American culture. And he manages it without an ounce of preaching, as the reader is too caught up laughing and crying for his characters to even realize how the story is forcing them to question their assumptions.

With the obstinateness in American government growing more unbelievable by the day, Saunders' work becomes even more important. When the culture is absurd—and it is truly absurd what is happening with our political culture—the only weapon that can slice through is more absurdity. By suggesting insanity as if it were an acceptable way of life, we can show how insane our ideas of what's acceptable behavior have become.

In today’s confused culture, it’s easy to ridicule. It’s easy to criticize critics and point out pointlessness and laugh at the ludicrous television that many people laugh at (Two and a Half Men, someday I shall destroy you). However, it’s not easy to care about what you’re criticizing.

This is Saunders’ forte. He cares deeply about his characters even while criticizing their actions. He ridicules the mainstream by diving into it and trying to figure out each of the weird fish he swims past.

My Columbia friend has taken this method to heart. He recently sent me a text at 3 a.m. that read: “I would love you even if you weighed a thousand pounds. How’s that for poetry?”

By entering these weird mindsets, these perceptions of people as good or bad based on what our culture has taught us, Saunders (and my Columbia friend) make an earnest effort to understand while exposing the absurdity behind our preconceived notions.

As a writer and fan of counterculture, Saunders makes me furious. I wish I had written his stories first.