"A Better Life" - Shriver's Descent into Immigrant Dystopia

I long ago learned not to doubt Lionel Shriver's superb writing skills, as they are, when it comes to satire and political commentary, second to none. So naturally, when I found (up at the front in X, no less) that a new Shriver book had come out, I was quite eager to get my hands on it.

"A Better Life" explores the (largely disastrous) Biden immigration policies, with a focus on the Big Apple itself. Taking its cue from an actual proposed plan that never manifested, the book explores a parallel world in which the city sponsors New Yorkers to take in migrants into their own spare bedrooms, which naturally, the protagonist family of the novel does.

Interestingly, the story is told not through the eyes of the migrant herself, nor the Liberal middle-class, do-gooding Gloria Bonaventura who agrees to foster this young Honduran woman in need, but from the perspective of Nico, the 26-year-old "shut-in" youngest son. The only centrist in the family, Nico is well-fed on Douglas Murray and Jordan Peterson videos (like many a centrist, pushed by the increasingly chaotic world we inhabit further into Conservatism than he'd like), is unemployed, living off his inheritance, socially reclusive. He is, in many ways, a huge part of the problem. He's also deeply suspicious of his mother's do-gooding.

Rightly so.

What follows is a somewhat predictable, winding escalation of the Bonaventuras' misfortunes as several Honduran thugs proceed to squat and effectively get the run of their posh, Ditmas Park home.

While I thought some of the dialogue was a bit too on-the-nose and somewhat closer to one of Shriver's Spectator columns than a novel, I thoroughly enjoyed this one.

While there are important differences between America's immigration chaos and our own here in Europe, it made for a deeply uneasy read in 2026. It depicts (very well) both the hopefulness-bordering-on-naivety that characterizes Liberal policies, the mounting rage that many in the West feel as their countries are, de facto, invaded, but also the helplessness that seems to be ever-threatening Europe and the US.

What I loved about the book was the use of symbolism, of parallel and metaphor. Of course, the Bonaventura's misfortune stands a mirror to America itself. Nico, as I said, is a huge part of the problem.. He is unemployed and reclusive. As such, not a productive member of society, seemingly. But more importantly, when his own home is invaded, he remains an observer. He fails, despite his intellectual background, to save his family or fight off the invaders in any meaningful way. A situation those in the West are, unfortunately, very familiar with.

Shriver herself, in a fascinating interview with Douglas Murray, said Nico is emblematic of the new youth - the critical need for the young to return, with interest, to the world, to life. To grow up, and realize their home is worth saving and nurturing (which, to be fair, we are not doing so well in the West, at the moment). Appropriately, the book ends on a grim wake-up call, a merciless kicking of this inertia into action. One thing I did appreciate, also, was that the Conservative, gun-touting goon squad Nico eventually assembles also fails and doesn't come out the savior of the day - a poignant reminder, I thought, that that doesn't need to be our future, if we opt out of this Lefty dystopia.
While some parts of the book felt too demonstrative for my taste, Shriver nevertheless manages to get some important points across.

One important argument is, how can you expect respect and civility from the very strangers you open your doors to wide, and say, take what you like? We've come a long way, as a society. We may think we are past such barbaric, tribal thinking that would spell bad blood in this situation. Unfortunately, while the world is indeed changing, it is not doing so fast enough (or evenly, across the globe).

Much like those one-time well-meaning monks, we may find ourselves welcoming axes, or religious scimtars. And that our heads will (and unfortunately, already do) roll for it.

Another scene I found particularly poignant was when Nico and the young Honduran migrant woman are debating the "luck" of having been born American, and why not share that good luck. Now, that's a very popular argument in our Western world, especially as it pairs so nicely with all this white guilt that's being bandied about.
Yet, as the novel points out, it's not actually true. It's actually not pure chance that you were born in a civilized, wealthy, prosperous country, but rather the result of generations upon generations with the determination, discipline and organization to build this country in the first place. Generations of your ancestors. While you personally have no merit for that in the 21st century, it's as stupid as going on a crusade against those with the good fortune to be born blue-eyed or dark-haired.

As the novel's protagonist superbly points out, "I'd like to continue being lucky".
... Which is followed by the unfortunate rider that we won't, unless we grow up soon, and remember where we've come from, not just what we're heading toward.

It made me consider the value and danger of alarmism. Much as I'm wary of both extremes, I think they're important indicators for your own course. I also think if we were more centrist as a society, there would be progressively less need for extremism.

One question that kept hounding me as I progressed through the book was, how do you talk about such things while keeping a center-position? While I love Shriver and can appreciate some points that someone like Murray makes, I refuse to identify with the Conservatives and thei despotic circus. That I feel sporadic, at best, allegiance to the Left goes without saying.

Must we really live in black and white? Must it really be all immigrants or no immigrants? LGB with all the other letters of the alphabet riding its coat-tails, or stoning men for their sexual orientation? Trad wifes or soulless boss babes?
See, that's one of my main complaints about us in the West. We have these fanciful notions that we've evolved past the brutality of barbarism and invasion. And yet, in 2026, we haven't found a way to stand in the center and remember all major figures of either side are mental a-holes.

This ego-tickling we're so fond of will not lead us down a bright and merry path, I'm afraid. That's certainly one future. Not sure yet it needs to be our future.