Homelessness as Metaphor
... synopsis of novel by Lorrie Moore, I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home
Lorrie Moore’s novel “I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home” (2023) weaves together three interlocking narratives centered on grief, memory, and the persistence of the past. The primary story follows Finn, a middle-aged high school history teacher in Illinois, who is suspended from his job after teaching math and defying school policy. He travels to New York City to visit his dying brother, Max, in hospice in the Bronx, grappling with his own emotional unraveling and unresolved feelings for his ex-wife, Lily, who has recently died by suicide in a surreal, symbolic drowning. After discovering Lily’s body in her home, Finn becomes convinced she has returned—partially resurrected—and embarks on a bizarre, road-trip journey across the Midwest with her decomposing corpse, seeking to fulfill her final wishes and confront their shared past. Along the way, Finn checks into a decaying, gothic inn known as the South Sunken Road Inn, where he discovers a hidden 19th-century journal written by Elizabeth, a woman mourning her sister after the American Civil War. Elizabeth’s letters—filled with haunting confessions, dark humor, and a flirtatious, eccentric lodger named Jack—mirror Finn and Lily’s own fractured relationship and serve as a spectral echo of their emotional struggles. The novel blurs the line between reality and the supernatural, exploring how the dead continue to influence the living. Moore blends dark comedy, existential dread, and lyrical prose, portraying grief not as a linear process but as a layered, cyclical experience. The title “I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home” reflects the novel’s central theme: that home is not a physical place, but a fragile sense of belonging—and that love, loss, and memory persist beyond death. The novel won the 2023 National Book Critics Circle Award for Fiction and is celebrated as a haunting, original achievement in contemporary American literature.
... the story is said to touch on the paranormal theme of John Wilkes Booth's body
The novel incorporates the paranormal and conspiratorial theme of John Wilkes Booth’s fate through its 19th-century narrative strand. This subplot centers on Elizabeth, a boarding house owner in the post–Civil War South, who writes unsent letters to her deceased sister. In these letters, she describes a suspicious, charming lodger named Jack—gradually revealed to be John Wilkes Booth, the assassin of Abraham Lincoln, presumed dead but possibly still alive. Elizabeth suspects Jack’s true identity and ultimately murders him, shattering the official historical narrative of Booth’s death. Her actions introduce a conspiracy element, suggesting that the accepted story of Booth’s demise is false or incomplete—mirroring Finn’s own skepticism toward official truths when he discusses conspiracy theories (like the moon landing or lone gunman) with his dying brother, Max. The two timelines converge when Finn and Lily stay at the same decaying boarding house during their road trip. There, Finn discovers Elizabeth’s journal, linking the past and present. The house’s physical details—like window panes made of ambrotypes—match those described in the letters, blurring reality and ghostly echo.
... the John Wilkes Booth's body paranormal meme is new to me, kindly elaborate
The "Booth's body" meme in “I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home” refers to the novel’s fictional reimagining of the fate of John Wilkes Booth, Abraham Lincoln’s assassin. In the 19th-century storyline, a boarding house owner named Elizabeth suspects that a mysterious lodger, "Jack," is Booth in hiding. Convinced of his identity, she murders him, subverting the official historical account of his death at Garrett’s farm in 1865. This act creates a conspiracy motif that echoes into the 21st-century plot, where Finn—obsessed with alternative histories—discusses Booth’s disputed death with his dying brother, Max. The narrative threads converge when Finn and Lily stay at the same boarding house and he discovers Elizabeth’s journal, linking past and present through shared themes of denial, resurrection, and unresolved national trauma. Author Lorrie Moore has stated she was inspired by real accounts of a man in the 1960s–70s who claimed to be touring the South with Booth’s mummified body. This surreal detail underscores the novel’s meditation on how the Confederacy’s legacy—and its myths—persist, symbolically resurfacing in modern political upheavals like the 2016 election.
... the mystery of Booth's body theme appears to be an iteration of the alternate history theme of assassinating bad actors in the past
Yes, the Booth's body theme functions as an alternate history motif centered on the assassination of a "bad actor"—John Wilkes Booth—and the moral implications of killing someone who committed a grievous historical crime. In the novel, Elizabeth, a boarding house owner, suspects her lodger "Jack" is Booth in hiding. Rather than turn him in, she murders him, effectively enacting a private, unauthorized execution outside the official historical record. This act reframes Booth’s death as not a surrender or shootout, but a civilian-administered justice, blurring the line between vigilante violence and moral retribution. It reflects a broader theme: the rejection of official narratives in favor of personal or hidden truths. Finn, in the modern timeline, echoes this skepticism when he discusses conspiracy theories with his dying brother Max, suspicious that “the real story is never the official one.” Thus, the John Wilkes Booth subplot becomes a ghostly parallel to Finn’s own journey—both involve confronting death, denying closure, and resisting accepted endings. The preserved corpse (whether Booth’s or Lily’s) symbolizes the persistence of unresolved history, where the past is never truly buried.
... the meta-narrative involves the ethical dilemma would you commit murder to avenge a great, historical injustice ?
Yes, the meta-narrative of “I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home” involves the ethical dilemma of whether one would commit murder to rectify a great historical wrong—embodied in Elizabeth’s killing of John Wilkes Booth. In the novel, Elizabeth—a boarding house owner—suspects her lodger "Jack" is Booth in hiding. Convinced of his guilt, she murders him, effectively enacting a private, posthumous justice that contradicts the official account of his death. This act forces readers to confront a haunting question: Is it ever justified to kill a man already condemned by history? In the novel, Elizabeth does not turn Booth in; she erases him, blurring the line between moral retribution and vigilantism. Her crime becomes a symbolic act of closure—mirroring Finn’s own struggle to reconcile with Lily’s suicide and Max’s death. The novel refrains from judging Elizabeth. Instead, it presents her choice as part of a broader meditation on grief, conspiracy, and the unreliability of official narratives. Finn, obsessed with alternate histories, reflects this skepticism, suggesting that truth is often buried beneath myth. Ultimately, Moore uses the Booth subplot not to resolve the ethical question, but to linger in its discomfort—asking whether personal justice can ever override historical record, and at what cost.
... this is the aspect of the novel that makes it interesting; has the ethical dilemma of justified killing been taken-up by non-fiction writers ?
Yes, the ethical dilemma of justified killing—particularly the assassination of tyrants or perpetrators of historical injustice—has been addressed by non-fiction writers and philosophers, often under the framework of tyrannicide or political assassination as lesser evil.
1. "Just Assassination" as Lesser Evil
Political theorists have argued that eliminating a single dangerous leader can prevent widespread violence. For example:
- Michael Kaufman, in "The Ethics of Assassination", explores how targeted killing might be more humane than war, sparing countless lives.
- Eric Patterson and others have examined cases like the failed plots against Hitler, framing assassination as a moral alternative to mass warfare.
2. Historical Case Studies
Non-fiction works analyze real-world instances where killing a leader was seen as morally defensible:
- "Killing No Murder" (a study referenced in academic circles) discusses the assassinations of Tsar Alexander II and Archduke Franz Ferdinand, weighing their deaths as necessary for political change.
- John Grisham’s The Innocent Man, while about wrongful conviction, indirectly raises questions about justice and vengeance when the system fails.
3. Moral and Legal Boundaries
- "A Study of Assassination", a declassified CIA document, acknowledges that while murder is not morally justifiable, killing those responsible for atrocities may be seen as just punishment.
- Philosophers like Vittorio Bufacchi distinguish between assassination and executive action, arguing that intent and context (e.g., preventing genocide) can alter moral judgment.
4. Vigilantism and Tyrannicide
- Discussions on social and philosophy forums explore whether fighting a tyrant justifies breaking the law, echoing the novel’s theme.
- Writers like Alan Dershowitz have debated "ticking bomb" scenarios, where preemptive or extrajudicial killing might be ethically permissible.
These works confirm that Lorrie Moore’s fictional exploration resonates with real ethical debates—where the line between murder and moral duty blurs in the face of great injustice.
... the writer George Saunders, who authored the similarly-themed novel “Lincoln in the Bardo” is cited by Lorrie Moore as an inspiration; what is the synopsis of Saunder's book?
“Lincoln in the Bardo” by George Saunders is set in 1862, following the death of Willie Lincoln, the eleven-year-old son of President Abraham Lincoln. After Willie is laid to rest in a Georgetown cemetery, he finds himself in the bardo—a Tibetan Buddhist concept of a transitional afterlife state where souls linger before rebirth.
The novel unfolds over a single night and is narrated by a chorus of ghosts trapped in the Bardo due to unresolved attachments, regrets, or denial of their own deaths. Among them are Hans Vollman, a printer who died before consummating his marriage; Roger Bevins III, a young gay man who died by suicide; and the Reverend Everly Thomas, each physically marked by their earthly obsessions. When President Lincoln visits the crypt to hold his son’s body—based on historical accounts—the living and spirit worlds intersect. The ghosts become obsessed with the president’s grief, seeing in it a chance for redemption. They attempt to help Willie move on, realizing that his attachment to his father is keeping him bound to the bardo. Saunders blends historical sources—real and fictionalized excerpts from biographies, letters, and newspapers—with the ghosts’ voices, creating a unique, polyphonic narrative. The novel explores grief, love, impermanence, and the interconnectedness of all life, ultimately asking how we live and love knowing that everything ends. Winner of the 2017 Booker Prize, “Lincoln in the Bardo” is a formally daring, deeply humane work about loss and the possibility of transcendence.
... is the death of Willie Lincoln, the eleven-year-old son of President Abraham Lincoln, an alternative history which asks the reader's suspension of disbelief
The death of Willie Lincoln—Abraham Lincoln’s 11-year-old son—is historically real, not an alternative history. He died of typhoid fever on February 20, 1862, in the White House, likely from contaminated water. His death devastated the Lincoln family and is well-documented. In “Lincoln in the Bardo” George Saunders uses this true event as a foundation but builds a fictional, supernatural framework around it. The novel imagines Willie’s spirit lingering in the bardo—a Tibetan Buddhist intermediate state—where he is surrounded by a chorus of ghosts. While the emotional truth of Lincoln’s grief is grounded in history, the ghostly narrative and fragmented historical citations (some real, some invented) require readers to suspend disbelief. Saunders blends fact and fiction to explore grief, impermanence, and the unreliability of historical memory, making the novel feel otherworldly despite its real basis.
... reader credibility turns not on the death of Willie Lincoln of typhoid, but his detention in the Bardo - or limbo state - for no apparent offense
Willie Lincoln is in the bardo not because of any personal wrongdoing, but because his father’s profound grief anchors him to the earthly realm. In Lincoln in the Bardo, children are expected to pass quickly into the afterlife, but Willie lingers due to Abraham Lincoln’s repeated visits to the crypt and his emotional refusal to let go. The ghosts in the bardo recognize that Willie’s attachment to his father puts him at risk of permanent entrapment and even spiritual corruption—children who stay too long are tormented and deformed by the bardo’s forces. Thus, the novel frames Willie’s presence not as a punishment or moral failing, but as a consequence of love and grief, blurring the boundary between consolation and obstruction. His detention in the bardo becomes a metaphor for how the living, through sorrow, can unknowingly hold the dead back from peace.
... it's a trope on the belief that a dying person can be returned to life partly by calling-out, as practiced by some doctors who do not want to lose a patient to death
The belief that a dying person can be partially returned to life or held back from death through emotional appeal—such as a loved one’s voice or a doctor’s refusal to “let go”—is a narrative trope rather than a medical reality. In fiction, this manifests as the "Epiphany Therapy" or "Last Words" trope, where a comatose or dying character briefly awakens in response to a heartfelt plea, often to deliver closure or reconciliation. This dramatizes the hope that love or willpower can defy death. Medically, there are rare phenomena like terminal lucidity—a documented but poorly understood event where patients with severe neurological conditions show unexpected mental clarity shortly before death. However, this is not a response to “calling out” or emotional appeals, nor does it imply the person can be brought back. Doctors may struggle emotionally with letting go, as seen in discussions around medical futility and the “bogus contract” between physicians and patients—the unspoken expectation that medicine can always delay death. Some clinicians prolong treatment not for benefit, but because they cannot accept the limits of their power. Ultimately, while the trope reflects real human longing, medicine recognizes that death is not a failure, and true care often involves allowing a peaceful, dignified passing.