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Liberation Day: Stories Hardcover – October 18, 2022

by George Saunders (Author)

4.3 1,174 ratings

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NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • “One of our most inventive purveyors of the form returns with pitch-perfect, genre-bending stories that stare into the abyss of our national character. . . . An exquisite work from a writer whose reach is galactic.”—Oprah Daily

Booker Prize winner George Saunders returns with his first collection of short stories since the New York Times bestseller Tenth of December.

ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: The New York Times Book Review, The New Yorker, Oprah Daily, NPR, Time, USA Today, The Guardian, Esquire, Newsweek, Kirkus Reviews, Booklist, Library Journal

The “best short-story writer in English” (Time) is back with a masterful collection that explores ideas of power, ethics, and justice and cuts to the very heart of what it means to live in community with our fellow humans. With his trademark prose—wickedly funny, unsentimental, and exquisitely tuned—Saunders continues to challenge and surprise: Here is a collection of prismatic, resonant stories that encompass joy and despair, oppression and revolution, bizarre fantasy and brutal reality.

“Love Letter” is a tender missive from grandfather to grandson, in the midst of a dystopian political situation in the (not too distant, all too believable) future, that reminds us of our obligations to our ideals, ourselves, and one another. “Ghoul” is set in a Hell-themed section of an underground amusement park in Colorado and follows the exploits of a lonely, morally complex character named Brian, who comes to question everything he takes for granted about his reality. In “Mother’s Day,” two women who loved the same man come to an existential reckoning in the middle of a hailstorm. In “Elliott Spencer,” our eighty-nine-year-old protagonist finds himself brainwashed, his memory “scraped”—a victim of a scheme in which poor, vulnerable people are reprogrammed and deployed as political protesters. And “My House”—in a mere seven pages—comes to terms with the haunting nature of unfulfilled dreams and the inevitability of decay.

Together, these nine subversive, profound, and essential stories coalesce into a case for viewing the world with the same generosity and clear-eyed attention Saunders does, even in the most absurd of circumstances.

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Popular Highlights in this book

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Peace is not, apparently, the general human intention, although in the spare hour (in the dear home, in the individual heart) it may sometimes seem to be.
Highlighted by 327 Kindle readers
He has no work, no art, no dreams, no joy. He just has anger and a fondness for being correct in his energetic, self-righteous disapproval of all that he sees.
Highlighted by 273 Kindle readers
I just want to say that history, when it arrives, may not look as you expect, based on the reading of history books. Things in there are always so clear. One knows exactly what one would have done.
Highlighted by 258 Kindle readers
For, whatever Mr. U. may in the future give me to Speak, I will never enjoy it again, any more than would a puppet, picked up off the floor, enjoy the suddenly manipulating hand.
Highlighted by 174 Kindle readers
Company possesses superior numbers; is imbued with the confidence of wealth; is not inclined to lose, having decided long ago to cushion itself within abundance and thus keep loss at bay.
Highlighted by 140 Kindle readers

From the Publisher

"Raises Saunders above other masters of the form,” says The Boston Globe

Editorial Reviews

Review

“It’s that equilibrium of groundbreaking craft and bone-deep compassion—plus his rangy, tilt-a-whirl voice—that raises Saunders above other masters of the form.”—The Boston Globe

“Part of the Saunders elixir is that we feel more empathetic after reading his work.”—The San Francisco Chronicle

“Liberation Day is great art … winningly readable … Whether exploring recognisable social and political dilemmas, taking us somewhere else entirely, or doing both at the same time, Saunders never denies us the solid satisfactions of plot, jokes, character, pacing and lovely phrasemaking.”—The Daily Telegraph (UK)

“The nine stories in Liberation Day are by turn exhilarating, sad, mindbendingly bizarre and wickedly funny. All are stamped with Saunders’s quirky, profoundly moral sensibility, and his fury at repression and coercion.”—The Sunday Times (UK)

“Utterly moving … terrific … Worth reading for ‘Love Letter’ alone.”—The Independent (UK)

“Masterful”—i paper (UK)

“Saunders has revealed himself to be nothing less than an American Gogol: funny, pointed, full of nuance, and always writing with a moral heart. This, his first book of short fiction in nearly a decade, only cements the validity of such a point of view. The nine pieces here are smart and funny, speculative yet at the same time written on a human scale, narratives full of love and loss and longing and the necessity of trying to connect.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

“Saunders’s vision of diabolically intrusive tyranny undermining democracy possesses the keen absurdity of Kurt Vonnegut, while his more subtle stories align with the gothic edge of Shirley Jackson. . . . Each of these flawless fables inspires reflection on the fragility of freedom and the valor of the human spirit.”—Booklist (starred review)

About the Author

George Saunders is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of eleven books, including A Swim in a Pond in the Rain; Lincoln in the Bardo, which won the Booker Prize; Congratulations, by the Way; Tenth of December, a finalist for the National Book Award and winner of the inaugural Folio Award; The Braindead Megaphone; and the critically acclaimed collections CivilWarLand in Bad Decline, Pastoralia, and In Persuasion Nation. He teaches in the creative writing program at Syracuse University.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Liberation Day

It is third day of Interim.

A rather long Interim, for us.

All day we wonder: When will Mr. U. return? To Podium? Are the Untermeyers (Mr. U., Mrs. U., adult son Mike) pleased? If so, why? If not, why not? When next will we be asked to Speak? Of what, in what flavor?

We wonder avidly. Though not aloud. For there may be Penalty. One may be unPinioned before the eyes of the upset others and brought to a rather Penalty Area. (Here at the Untermeyers’, a shed in the yard.) In Penalty, one sits in the dark among shovels. One may talk. But cannot Speak. How could one? To enjoy the particular exhilaration of Speaking, one must be Pinioned. To the Speaking Wall.

Otherwise, one speaks like this.

As I am speaking to you now.

Plain, uninspired, nothing of beauty about it.

Hearing Mr. U. coming down the hall, we wonder: Might tonight be Company?

But no. Soon, we find, it is mere Rehearsal. Mr. U.’s intention: to jam.

“Ted, where are you, what are you doing?” Mrs. U. inquires in the angry voice from elsewhere in the house.

“In the Listening Room,” he says. “Jamming.”

“Oh, for Lord’s sake,” she says.

It is a special feeling one gets when Mr. U. has sent your Pulse but it has not fully arrived. Like a pre-dreaming or déjà vu is how Craig and Lauren and I have described it on those rare occasions when, risking Penalty, we have spoken among ourselves. Once the Pulse is fully upon you, here will come your words, not intended by, but nevertheless flowing through, you, built, as it were, upon the foundation that is you, supercharged by the Pulse, molded to the chosen Topic, such that, if Mr. U. has dialed in, say, Nautical, whoever he has chosen to go first will suddenly begin Speaking of things Nautical in his or her own flavor, but far more compellingly than he or she could if unPinioned. Mr. U., jamming, may choose to have all of us Speak of Nautical simultaneously; in a whisper or quite loud; may Pan right to left (from Craig to Lauren to me, per our current Arrangement), each of us, in turn, putting his or her own spin on Nautical.

Tonight I feel the pre-dreaming/déjà vu feeling and then, Across the slick vast field of the main deck aslant with the latest breaker, I find myself calling out, amid a positive Babel of shouted voices in manifold accents and dialects, hoary hands grip and release rainslick masts as the rain pounds crosswise the darkwood deck veined by ancient ropes greenish with mold beneath the booted feet racing to address a faltering knot or stay as each lad wonders will he live out the storm or come to claustrophobic choking end sinking deep to expire in the watery Jones locker with the many-tentacled abyss creatures of the—

Even as I am Speaking, I am aware of looks of pity, of commiseration, from Craig and Lauren, looks that seem to say: Although we are not exactly following you, good job, Jeremy, well Spoken, you are clearly doing your best to Speak of Nautical, and if the result is somewhat vague and hard to parse, well, that is the fault of Mr. U., who apparently has set your Prolixity too high.

But they dare not judge me too harshly.

For soon their Pulses too will come.

On Break we stay Pinioned, resting. Our current Pose: arms and legs thrown out wide, in the shape of the letter X, each of us askew at a slightly different angle.

Like stars, or a trio of folks falling from a great height.

Mr. U. comes back in with a beer and some chips.

“I think,” he says, “City. A cityscape. What do you think?”

The Penalty for speaking being perpetually in effect, we merely nod, indicating: Sure, yes, City sounds good.

The Control Board allows Mr. U. to produce many shadings of Speech. It not just City of which I (again first, I happily note) now begin Speaking; it is City, plus Sad, plus Summer; a dominant coloration of green-blue; City arranged N/S along a wide river. I am made to Speak in short, brisk sentences. Lauren, following me, Speaks, also, of a N/S-trending, river-spanning City, but, plus: Hunger, Raining, Exaltation, her whole Pass consisting of one long sentence. Craig is: City arranged E/W, white, Winter, no river, overrun by cats, alternating short and long sentences, and toward the end of his Pass, he begins to rhyme, or trying to rhyme, and is also Speaking, or attempting to Speak—Mr. U. is attempting to get him to Speak—in iambic pentameter (!).

For Finale, all three of us Speak of our Cities at once, as Mr. U. dials in Crescendo, such that afterward all three of our throats really hurt, so energetically does Mr. U. have us Speaking there at the end.

Mr. U. has been Recording. He plays us a snippet. Is pleased. So, we are pleased. Who would not be pleased? Well, Mrs. U. He calls her in, plays her the snippet.

“That is just some random noise, Ted,” she says, and walks out.

We watch Mr. U. closely. Is he peeved? Seems to be. Yet still believes in us. We can tell by his smile, which says: Has she ever liked a piece of ours yet?

And we smile back: Not yet.

Mr. U. climbs the stepladder to pop into each of our mouths a lozenge. Jean, the maid, comes in with three water sponges on sticks, with which she moistens our lips, and then it is Dinner, and she Feeds us by attaching our Personal Feed Tubes to the tri-headed Master Feed Tube coming out of her large jar of Dining Mélange.

Then steps aside to read her book as we Dine.

Though sore-throated, we have elation: Interim is over.

Again we feel useful, creative, part of a team.

Late in the night the door creaks. Mrs. U. enters in nightwear. She steps directly to me, as always.

“Jeremy,” she whispers. “Are you awake? I don’t mean to bother. But.”

“I’m awake,” I whisper.

She wheels over Podium slowly, so as to maintain quiet, sets it just so. She slides a mic on a stand to my lips and dons headphones so as not to disturb the others or alert Mr. U. Sitting on the floor before me, she reaches behind and above herself to hit, on the Control Board, Go.

Tonight it is Rural, plus Ancient; overtones of Escape.

I begin Speaking (or, rather, per her Settings, Whispering, into the mic): of her Beauty, and we meet beside a placid Italian lake; in simple, objective sentences, for we are farmers; of the distant hills into which one day, I promise her, we will disappear; more of her Beauty; with quite high Specificity, and I find that, as I describe her Beauty (her hips, her breasts, the way her hair falls across her shoulders in the early morning light, the way it makes me feel to glimpse her across the community table on feast days) I am becoming aroused, as is she, but also, if I may say it this way, am becoming, as well, in love with her, as, I believe, she is becoming in love with me, even though her family, her farming family, does not wish it, because she is betrothed to a cocksure troll of a man, son of the richest family in town, and as we pass hand in hand through a flock of sheep belonging to his family, which also owns the distant mill, she leans into me, indicating (I am Whispering all of this into the mic): I do not want him or his sheep, only you.

One new Feature tonight: a storm approaches. Soon we are drenched and I take off my outer garment and drape it across her slender shoulders. The storm is hers; it is in her Settings, part of Rural. But the garment-draping is mine; I supply that and can see that it pleases her, real her, sitting cross-legged there before me.

Then, beneath a waterfall, or actually just to one side of it, we make love, and I describe it well, and though I am Pinioned and therefore may not reach myself, Mrs. U. is not Pinioned, and may, and does, reach herself.

As is often the case, I wonder whether it might not occur to Mrs. U., once she has been in that way unburdened, to stand up, step over, unburden me.

But it does not. It does not seem to occur to her. It never does. Never has yet.

Which is, I always feel, once my arousal has receded, probably for the best.

She merely rises to her feet abruptly, takes off the headphones, and, as if regretful, sharply wheels Control Podium back to where it was, restores the Dials to where they were, steps over to Lauren, then Craig, shining cellphone dimly upon them to see if they were awake during what just transpired. As usual, she concludes they were not. Sometimes, they really were not. (Paradoxically, though Pinioned and motionless all day, we are always exhausted at night.) On occasions when they have, in fact, been awake, as she approached with cellphone, they have quickly pretended to be asleep, not wanting her to feel in the least troubled.

All these four years she has never once gone to sit before Craig. Only me. And lately has begun sitting before me more often, and longer, to the extent that sometimes the dim harbinger of dawn, a sliver of yellow light that creeps in from what we believe was formerly a window but is now boarded up but not all that well, will fall across her lap, and she will leap to her feet, mumbling, for example, “What the hell, morning already?”

Product details

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Random House (October 18, 2022)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 256 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0525509593
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0525509592
Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 13.4 ounces
Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 5.8 x 0.9 x 8.55 inches

Best Sellers Rank: #106,159 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #1,280 in Short Stories Anthologies
- #3,158 in Short Stories (Books)
- #8,022 in Literary Fiction (Books)

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George Saunders

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George Saunders is the author of nine books, including Tenth of December, which was a finalist for the National Book Award and won the inaugural Folio Prize (for the best work of fiction in English) and the Story Prize (best short-story collection). He has received MacArthur and Guggen-heim fellowships and the PEN/Malamud Prize for excellence in the short story, and was recently elected to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. In 2013, he was named one of the world's 100 most influential people by Time magazine. He teaches in the creative writing program at Syracuse University.

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Anthony Nicholls

George Saunders at his best

Reviewed in the United States on January 2, 2023

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It’s hard to find a better short story writer, one whose stories linger and embed themselves like his do. He doesn’t disappoint here, with some fine, memorable, crazy elegant stories. So glad he’s out there writing for us.

4 people found this helpful

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Michael Mayo

By George!

Reviewed in the United States on December 22, 2022

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The easy part first. If you're already a fan of George Saunders, then I can recommend "Liberation Day" easily. Most of the stories have already been printed in the New Yorker, but there are also three new stories that will let you be current.

If you're new to George and are trying to decide whether to try him out or not, that's a little more difficult because it depends on what you're looking for in a story. If you're looking for a straightforward narrative, he isn't going to be to your taste. If you're looking for something a little more quirky and ambiguous, then maybe.

I know a bit more about George's working method than most people because I'm a member of his "Story Club" Substack class where he presents a short story by an author he likes and we discuss it. In the course of things, George has also talked extensively about how he works. Although it's a little facile, I liken him to someone who sits down at a Ouija board and waits to see what happens. George doesn't like to know where a story is going when he starts and he frequently just takes a bit of dialog from a character he's not even sure about yet and writes until he runs out of things to say. Many times he'll put a story off to the side for weeks or months until he has something more to say. I believe he told us at one time he had four unfinished stories he was rotating through. He also is hard to pigeonhole into one genre. Many of his stories deal with contemporary life, but he also wanders occasionally into a day-after-tomorrow soft science fiction situation where his protagonist is dealing with a technology or situation he's stuck in and trying to make the best of. George is not a world-builder and frequently/frustratingly you only know as much about the situation as the character knows, not anything about how this situation came about. Although not strictly a First-person writer, many of his stories are narrated by his character and much of the story comes from a stream-of-consciousness dialog, with many of his stories not so much as resolving a situation but simply stopping, leaving you to imagine what happens next. While I'm not sure it works as classical storytelling, there's no denying he's very popular and has both awards and sales to prove it; although I'm not entirely sure that at least part of his popularity is that George is a genuinely nice person with many personal appearances and YouTube videos talking about life and writing, where he's unfailingly polite and thoughtful. I can't say I agree with everything he says, and have told him so, but he's always been willing to listen and reply when he can. It makes it hard to switch hats from being a fan to a critic and say some stories work for me and some don't.

So the bottom line is that George Saunders is simply a writer you're going to have to read to find out if you like him. It's not like saying if you like hard-boiled detective stories then you'll love Lee Child or Michael Connelly. George is almost his own genre, and even then you may read one story that does nothing for you while the next story surprises you with its left-field inventiveness. You're just going to have to take a chance and see if he works for you...

38 people found this helpful

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Bartolo

THE dystopian satirist of the moment, with more successes

Reviewed in the United States on April 27, 2023

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A longtime fan of Saunders' sly dystopian fantasies, I looked forward to this collection, even though I suspected I'd read many of these stories in the New Yorker already. That suspicion was fully warranted, but truly the aggregate make up an outrageously misanthropic view of humanity that includes all manner of losers, cheats, and mediocrities, served up with relish. But I wasn't disappointed with the piece-de-resistance, the eponymous long-short story, all-but-novella, new to me. What a ferocious indictment is this particular dystopia! Saunders provides a variation on a scenario he'd used before, the poor and downtrodden used as aesthetic enhancements of the rich, in this case forced to produce what amount to history-based oratorios, musicals, for guests' evening entertainments. The enslaved narrators and singers have had their minds "wiped" of previous (down-and-out) lives and thus are putty in the hands of their owner-cum-impresario and his electronic controls. The plot includes an invasion, mid-performance, by a brigade of "liberators," and the ending detonates like an explosion. The story traded a lot of Saunders' characteristic wit for an excoriating brutality that, given the times we live in, held satisfactions of its own. It occurred to me that the scenario not only satirized human society generally but that parallels in the story could be drawn narrowly (if one chose) to our own current plutocrats and their easily manipulated MAGA followers. (Note: one production, a musical re-creation of the Battle of Little Big Horn, might give you nightmares, and in any case is fiendishly appropriate to represent the tone-deafness of the privileged audience) By itself the story "Liberation Day" is easily one of Saunders' best.

7 people found this helpful

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FLGBtoSort

Half and Half

Reviewed in the United States on February 11, 2024

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Not his best (see: Civilwarland in Bad Decline) Half the story were excellent, the other, not so much.

One person found this helpful

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Uncle Toothpick

Marvelous

Reviewed in the United States on January 5, 2024

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I hope George lives and writes forever and that I live forever so that I can always enjoy the supreme pleasure of his wonderful stories.

2 people found this helpful

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Amanda

Really good but stories aren’t super different

Reviewed in the United States on October 25, 2023

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Read for my book club. These are very thought provoking stories and I did very much enjoy reading most of them. My only issue is that he has a theme going on throughout most of the stories with is fine and I understand that but some of the stories are so closely related that they almost seem like different versions of the same story. Overall I’d recommend it and it’s very easy to read in just a few sittings

One person found this helpful

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phyllis knight

Liberation Day in the future

Reviewed in the United States on January 17, 2024

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Science fiction meets heart felt. I loved it.

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B. Feeney

An interesting mix of stories

Reviewed in the United States on February 6, 2023

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I enjoyed the first story most of all. It’s kind of a dystopian tale with some people of means controlling others; forcing them to play roles in historical tales like Little Big Horn. Once you become accustomed to the bizarre nature of the story it is quite awesome. I liked several of the others too. The story about the woman stealing from her employer was also quite powerful. Check ‘‘em out! I think any age could enjoy. I think the people who get the most out of it will be highly intelligent. It has a very American feel to it.

3 people found this helpful

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Dr. Alexander Laub

Hype für mich unverständlich

Reviewed in Germany on April 7, 2024

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Saunders Geschichten erinnern an Erzählungen von Roald Dahl. Auch gibt es so etwas wie H. G. Wells‘ Morlocks. Hier ist für mich nicht ersichtlich, was dann an den dystopischen Geschichten originell sein soll. Am besten sind noch die Erzählungen, die Gefühle der Protagonisten darstellen.

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Nuno Cotter

Repetition

Reviewed in Sweden on September 25, 2023

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There's nothing new under the sun, but this just feels like Saunders is writing the same thing over and over. This has to be his weakest collection of short stories yet.

MK

Good read

Reviewed in India on April 12, 2023

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Got a lot of sci - fi themed stories .. wife variety of topics .. well written and spun. Think I've found a new favourite author in the short story segment .

jean m elliott

You need a good brain

Reviewed in the United Kingdom on November 16, 2022

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I have given it five stars as I am sure it is a wonderful book I have enjoyed his previous work but oh dear my brain did not work and I found it incomprehensible so it could also have been given one star

One person found this helpful

HP

Book great but sent in bad condition

Reviewed in Germany on December 23, 2022

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Disappointed this book was sent damaged. The spine has been pushed down and cover is lifting. I would return but it’s a Christmas present.