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A Better Life
In a provocative novel addressing contemporary immigration by the sharply observant Lionel Shriver, a New York family takes in a Honduran migrant—who may or may not be the innocent paragon she claims to be.
Gloria Bonaventura, a divorced mother of three living with her 26-year-old son Nico in a sprawling house in Brooklyn, decides to participate in a new city program that would pay her to take in a migrant as a boarder. Liberal to the extreme, Gloria is thrilled when sweet, kind, helpful Martine arrives. But Nico is skeptical. A classic live-at-home Gen Zer with no interest in adulthood, Nico resents any interruption of his “hovercraft repose.”
As the months go by, Martine endears herself to both Nico’s sisters, while finding her way into Gloria’s heart and even, briefly, Nico’s. But as Martine’s disturbingly dodgy compatriots begin to show up, Nico conceives a dark twin hostile to both his mother’s altruism and the “migrant crisis” in general—and turns out to be anything but a reliable narrator himself.
Based loosely on a program New York City Mayor Eric Adams floated but did not initiate, A Better Life is Lionel Shriver at her smart, funny, and sensitive to the moral nuances of perhaps the most divisive issue of our times.
Gloria Bonaventura, a divorced mother of three living with her 26-year-old son Nico in a sprawling house in Brooklyn, decides to participate in a new city program that would pay her to take in a migrant as a boarder. Liberal to the extreme, Gloria is thrilled when sweet, kind, helpful Martine arrives. But Nico is skeptical. A classic live-at-home Gen Zer with no interest in adulthood, Nico resents any interruption of his “hovercraft repose.”
As the months go by, Martine endears herself to both Nico’s sisters, while finding her way into Gloria’s heart and even, briefly, Nico’s. But as Martine’s disturbingly dodgy compatriots begin to show up, Nico conceives a dark twin hostile to both his mother’s altruism and the “migrant crisis” in general—and turns out to be anything but a reliable narrator himself.
Based loosely on a program New York City Mayor Eric Adams floated but did not initiate, A Better Life is Lionel Shriver at her smart, funny, and sensitive to the moral nuances of perhaps the most divisive issue of our times.
304 pages, Hardcover
Published February 10, 2026
360 people are currently reading
1597 people want to read
About the author
Lionel Shriver
56 books4,741 followersLionel Shriver's novels include the New York Times bestseller The Post-Birthday World and the international bestseller We Need to Talk About Kevin, which won the 2005 Orange Prize and has now sold over a million copies worldwide. Earlier books include Double Fault, A Perfectly Good Family, and Checker and the Derailleurs. Her novels have been translated into twenty-five languages. Her journalism has appeared in the Guardian, the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and many other publications. She lives in London and Brooklyn, New York.
Author photo copyright Jerry Bauer, courtesy of Harper Collins.
Author photo copyright Jerry Bauer, courtesy of Harper Collins.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 156 reviews
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Lionel Shriver has never shied away from controversial subjects and A Better Life continues this tradition. After slamming an out of control education system in Mania, this time she has focused on immigration.
New York has launched its Big Apple Big Heart initiative. Not satisfied with being a sanctuary city, New York has decided to actively open its arms to immigrants offering them a place to stay, culturally appropriate free food, assistance with integrating and, if you're a civic-minded American (who will get paid for the pleasure), you could open your home to someone.
Gloria Bonaventura lives in a sprawling $2.5 million home in Ditmas Park that, after an acrimonious divorce, she shares with her son, Nico, who has mooched (jobless and directionless) on his mother since finishing a degree. Gloria has a big heart but Nico doesn't want to share.
Into this "happy" home comes Martine Salgado from Honduras. Very quickly Martine becomes Gloria's best friend. She is also adored by Nico's sisters, Palermo and Vanessa, who think she's the best thing to happen to Gloria for years. And then Martine's uninvited brother, Domingo, arrives ...
Shriver certainly doesn't hold back on pushing the boundaries of ill-thought out initiatives. This book is not for the faint-hearted but which of her books is? This scheme may not have happened but I think that this is the way that people who complain about immigration policies around the world see their countries. Of course Shriver uses hyperbole to make her point and, at times, the narrative leaves you gasping with outrage but the end is excellent.
Definitely recommended. If you like Shriver you'll love this. I can see it being a great book club novel - it will certainly divide opinion.
Thankyou very much to Harper Collins and Netgalley for the digital advance review copy. Most appreciated.
New York has launched its Big Apple Big Heart initiative. Not satisfied with being a sanctuary city, New York has decided to actively open its arms to immigrants offering them a place to stay, culturally appropriate free food, assistance with integrating and, if you're a civic-minded American (who will get paid for the pleasure), you could open your home to someone.
Gloria Bonaventura lives in a sprawling $2.5 million home in Ditmas Park that, after an acrimonious divorce, she shares with her son, Nico, who has mooched (jobless and directionless) on his mother since finishing a degree. Gloria has a big heart but Nico doesn't want to share.
Into this "happy" home comes Martine Salgado from Honduras. Very quickly Martine becomes Gloria's best friend. She is also adored by Nico's sisters, Palermo and Vanessa, who think she's the best thing to happen to Gloria for years. And then Martine's uninvited brother, Domingo, arrives ...
Shriver certainly doesn't hold back on pushing the boundaries of ill-thought out initiatives. This book is not for the faint-hearted but which of her books is? This scheme may not have happened but I think that this is the way that people who complain about immigration policies around the world see their countries. Of course Shriver uses hyperbole to make her point and, at times, the narrative leaves you gasping with outrage but the end is excellent.
Definitely recommended. If you like Shriver you'll love this. I can see it being a great book club novel - it will certainly divide opinion.
Thankyou very much to Harper Collins and Netgalley for the digital advance review copy. Most appreciated.
February 18, 2026
God bless Ms. Shriver for having the courage to write this sensational book . Leftism is a mental disorder. Leftists destroy everything they touch. Leftist Lunatic Democrats are in the process of destroying America. The message in this extremely well written and witty book is quite simple; Wake up America. This book is not satire . It is a warning. I enjoyed every word of it .My favorite line is when Alonso while describing the USA as a bunch of pushovers states ; “Even your president (that would be Joe Biden) he is a shaky , babbling old man . You know how Americans say: it is not a good look” . Is that satire? Or is the quote from the repulsive and hateful Leftist Joe Scarborough on National TV in June 2024 satire; “If you don’t think we are not getting the very best version of Joe Biden FU”? I will ask again is that line satire? Truth is stranger than fiction . Two weeks later Joe Biden proved to the world he could not speak.He could not formulate a sentence. He could not formulate a coherent thought .
February 9, 2026
A Better Life by Lionel Shriver. Thanks to @harperbooks for the gifted Arc ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Gloria is divorced mother living in Brooklyn with her twenty six year old son, Nico. Despite Nico’s misgivings, she joins a new city program that would pay her to house a migrant. When Martine arrives, Gloria and her daughters all love her but Nico still has misgivings, especially as her associates begin to show up.
I liked the story. I found it very entertaining and a great family study that also showed the dangers of black and white thinking. That said, I also fear readers may take it on surface level and read as a right-wing anti-immigration rhetoric, when really it’s a lot more than that. I read it more as satire and over-exaggeration of certain groups fears and biases. I encourage you to read it yourself and see what you think. It’s Lionel Shriver so of course it’s very well-written.
“Thinking outside the proverbial box is easier said than done. Our family was born in the box. We’re so used to it we don’t even know there’s a box.”
Read if you like:
-Contemporary fiction
-Political fiction
-NYC and surrounding areas settings
-Family studies
A Better Life comes out 2/10.
Gloria is divorced mother living in Brooklyn with her twenty six year old son, Nico. Despite Nico’s misgivings, she joins a new city program that would pay her to house a migrant. When Martine arrives, Gloria and her daughters all love her but Nico still has misgivings, especially as her associates begin to show up.
I liked the story. I found it very entertaining and a great family study that also showed the dangers of black and white thinking. That said, I also fear readers may take it on surface level and read as a right-wing anti-immigration rhetoric, when really it’s a lot more than that. I read it more as satire and over-exaggeration of certain groups fears and biases. I encourage you to read it yourself and see what you think. It’s Lionel Shriver so of course it’s very well-written.
“Thinking outside the proverbial box is easier said than done. Our family was born in the box. We’re so used to it we don’t even know there’s a box.”
Read if you like:
-Contemporary fiction
-Political fiction
-NYC and surrounding areas settings
-Family studies
A Better Life comes out 2/10.
February 10, 2026
This book was way better than I imagined it would be. It was eye opening and raw. Every part of it is so relatable down to the flaws and strengths of each character in this family. I was shocked at times, devastated at others, and empathetic in between. Full of tragedy, realization, and plenty of emotion, I won’t be able to get this story out of my head for a long time. Impressive plot and character development! I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.
Did Not Finish
February 28, 2026I requested the arc because I'd read several books by this author and enjoyed them years ago. Did not realize it would be full of anti-immigrant rhetoric. Not the book for me.
February 26, 2026
Everyone ought to read this.
Lionel Shriver is an entertaining and extremely readable novelist. Moving and humorous. I read A Better Life at one sitting.
Lionel Shriver is an entertaining and extremely readable novelist. Moving and humorous. I read A Better Life at one sitting.
February 23, 2026
I could not put it down
Psychological noir, crushing satire, social commentary unbound by kind lies.
Between the unprecedented voicing of the
silent majority's thoughts on Third World immigration and Shriver's talent for character-building, I could not put this novel down.
Psychological noir, crushing satire, social commentary unbound by kind lies.
Between the unprecedented voicing of the
silent majority's thoughts on Third World immigration and Shriver's talent for character-building, I could not put this novel down.
November 30, 2025
I’ve read a few Lionel Shriver books before and have enjoyed them, so I was keen to read this advance copy from NetGalley and the publisher. This is a satirical novel centred on asylum seekers. An American family takes in an immigrant from Honduras under a new city programme called “Big Apple, Big Heart.” There are themes of empathy, family conflict, unemployment and motivation, as well as trust.
It’s important to remember that this is deliberately provocative fiction. The pacing felt a little slow at times, but for readers who enjoy long, detailed character development, this will work well. The book made me feel a whole range of emotions; often irritated or annoyed, but I think that was very much the intention.
I did enjoy it, and I think it would make an excellent book club choice because there’s plenty to discuss.
It’s important to remember that this is deliberately provocative fiction. The pacing felt a little slow at times, but for readers who enjoy long, detailed character development, this will work well. The book made me feel a whole range of emotions; often irritated or annoyed, but I think that was very much the intention.
I did enjoy it, and I think it would make an excellent book club choice because there’s plenty to discuss.
March 4, 2026
Lionel Shriver may be the most controversial novelist writing today—a political conservative in a largely liberal publishing world, and someone who understands that provocation sells. Whether you view that as savvy marketing or fearless candor, this novel fully lives up to the hype.
The story unfolds through the eyes of a single narrator: a slacker of a young man holed up in his mother’s basement in an upscale Queens neighborhood. The premise is simple but combustible: What happens when his politically progressive mother takes in an asylum-seeking immigrant? From there, Shriver stages a sustained ideological duel. The mother embodies liberal orthodoxy; the son is a FOX News–watching conservative. Their arguments are sharp, relentless, and often darkly funny. No matter where you fall politically, you’re likely to bristle at least half the time.
As the plot accelerates, Shriver widens her lens, exposing the contradictions and unintended consequences embedded in both federal and New York City policies. The satire grows more caustic, the stakes more personal. By the time the novel reaches its tragic conclusion, I was less saddened than furious—an emotional reaction that feels not accidental, but engineered.
What kept me turning pages was the escalating absurdity of events and the almost unbearable curiosity about how far Shriver would push the scenario. Her prose is muscular and inventive. She has a rare gift for immersing the reader in place and for illuminating the often uncomfortable motivations driving her characters. Even when they are exasperating, they are never flat.
Shriver’s storytelling prowess ultimately transcends the politics. Agree with her or not, she knows how to construct a narrative that grips, provokes, and refuses to let go.
The story unfolds through the eyes of a single narrator: a slacker of a young man holed up in his mother’s basement in an upscale Queens neighborhood. The premise is simple but combustible: What happens when his politically progressive mother takes in an asylum-seeking immigrant? From there, Shriver stages a sustained ideological duel. The mother embodies liberal orthodoxy; the son is a FOX News–watching conservative. Their arguments are sharp, relentless, and often darkly funny. No matter where you fall politically, you’re likely to bristle at least half the time.
As the plot accelerates, Shriver widens her lens, exposing the contradictions and unintended consequences embedded in both federal and New York City policies. The satire grows more caustic, the stakes more personal. By the time the novel reaches its tragic conclusion, I was less saddened than furious—an emotional reaction that feels not accidental, but engineered.
What kept me turning pages was the escalating absurdity of events and the almost unbearable curiosity about how far Shriver would push the scenario. Her prose is muscular and inventive. She has a rare gift for immersing the reader in place and for illuminating the often uncomfortable motivations driving her characters. Even when they are exasperating, they are never flat.
Shriver’s storytelling prowess ultimately transcends the politics. Agree with her or not, she knows how to construct a narrative that grips, provokes, and refuses to let go.
March 9, 2026
Pathological altruism and suicidal empathy are writ large in this book. The matriarch is keen to do her bit to house New York's sanctuary city arrivals and agrees to live with one in her five bedroom house. Not from the vast majority of the incoming, fighting age males (of course) but rather she hedges her bets by selecting a female housemate. Cheered on by her daughters, only the son sees through the manipulative ruse and not just because he loses his comfy basement apartment in the process. Only he can credit the migrants with the ability to deceive and be anything less than perfect, noble specimens.
Also writ large is the comparison between a house and a nation. In the former you know to lock your doors and windows and be very careful with who you allow inside. Why would the borders of a national homeland be any different? You will see a lot of the plot revelations coming and such naivety on display can be frustrating but the core message is sound. The road to hell is truly paved with good intentions
Also writ large is the comparison between a house and a nation. In the former you know to lock your doors and windows and be very careful with who you allow inside. Why would the borders of a national homeland be any different? You will see a lot of the plot revelations coming and such naivety on display can be frustrating but the core message is sound. The road to hell is truly paved with good intentions
March 5, 2026
This book is eye-opening, though in many ways it simply reflects dynamics increasingly visible in modern Western society. Lionel Shriver exposes a strange moral vanity that often disguises itself as empathy. Certain characters present themselves as protectors of anyone who is not white, male, or straight, but the novel suggests this impulse is less about genuine compassion and more about the desire to appear virtuous.
The protagonist, a woman in her sixties, directs her emotional energy toward strangers rather than her own family. Instead of the traditional role of a grandmother surrounded by grandchildren, she pours her affection into outsiders who neither understand nor value it. Her compassion often feels performative, driven more by ideology than reality.
Meanwhile her 26-year-old son Nico, despite being educated, lives in her basement, detached from work, responsibility, and purpose. He represents a generation of men who seem lost in a culture that increasingly treats traditional masculine traits as suspect.
What makes the novel compelling is the contrast it draws. The immigrants she welcomes often come from far more traditional family structures, with clear roles and strong hierarchies. The result is a sharp and uncomfortable cultural collision.
The protagonist, a woman in her sixties, directs her emotional energy toward strangers rather than her own family. Instead of the traditional role of a grandmother surrounded by grandchildren, she pours her affection into outsiders who neither understand nor value it. Her compassion often feels performative, driven more by ideology than reality.
Meanwhile her 26-year-old son Nico, despite being educated, lives in her basement, detached from work, responsibility, and purpose. He represents a generation of men who seem lost in a culture that increasingly treats traditional masculine traits as suspect.
What makes the novel compelling is the contrast it draws. The immigrants she welcomes often come from far more traditional family structures, with clear roles and strong hierarchies. The result is a sharp and uncomfortable cultural collision.
February 27, 2026
It’s hard to talk about this book without spoilers but I loved it. Mostly I guess it’s a nuanced examination of the motivations and machinations of morally ambiguous characters. All is not always as it seems… I’d try not to read too much about it before hand to avoid preconceived notions - go in blind!
January 2, 2026
Very much a late Shriver book, it could have been interesting if she’d written it when she was in her prime, but it is better than her last effort.
The characters aren’t given any inteririorty and there is no attempt to create a sense of place so the writing ends up being an extended political argument. This could have worked better if new ideas were added to the discussion or the plot was less predictable.
Having said that once I got into the rhythm of it I did enjoy the prose but I don’t think this will live long in the memory.
Thanks to NetGalley and the Borough Press for the arc
The characters aren’t given any inteririorty and there is no attempt to create a sense of place so the writing ends up being an extended political argument. This could have worked better if new ideas were added to the discussion or the plot was less predictable.
Having said that once I got into the rhythm of it I did enjoy the prose but I don’t think this will live long in the memory.
Thanks to NetGalley and the Borough Press for the arc
February 19, 2026
A brilliant takedown of yet another of the left's sacred cows.
April 26, 2026
I’m about 35% of the way through this book, and felt compelled to write a review because I haven’t seen this mentioned in any of the reviews I’ve read so far and this issue is making the novel unreadable for me. The author does not have even a basic grasp of Spanish, despite the fact that this book is littered with Spanish dialogue throughout. Just a few examples of dialogue spoken by “native” Spanish speakers in the book:
- “buenas dias”
- “quieres desayuna?”
- “universidade”
- “make muchos dolores” (supposed to be dólares)
I could continue, but my point is that the author seemingly couldn’t be bothered to have a Spanish speaker edit this (I can understand why no Spanish speaker would want to, given the tone of the book). It honestly seems like she couldn’t even be bothered to use Google Translate with how persistent this issue is throughout the book.
There are other inaccuracies about Latin American culture throughout the book, such as a Honduran character offering Flor de Caña (a brand of rum from Nicaragua) to another character as a drink “from her country.”
I’m able to put the politics of this book aside, because I understand it’s supposed to be satire and I’m not necessarily offended by it. What I am offended by is the lazy portrayal of Latinos and the way the author could not be bothered to do even a minuscule amount of research to get the language and cultural references right. Maybe I am nitpicky and pedantic, but I could not take these characters seriously. They felt like infantilized cartoon versions of Latinos. And I’m not saying they had to be portrayed as virtuous or moral simply because they are Latinos, but at least put some effort into making them feel like real people. The point of the “satire” is lost when the authors portrayal of Latinos shows she probably has the same understanding of them as her protagonist, Nico, rather than juxtaposing their humanness with both Nico and his mother’s extreme distortion of them.
If you are a bilingual Spanish and English speaker, or even if you just see Latinos as complex people rather than one dimensional tropes, I don’t think you’ll enjoy this. I’m considering DNF because the lazy writing is too distracting for me.
Note for the author: please pick up Duolingo for 10 minutes before writing your next novel. I promise it’ll turn out better than whatever this was.
- “buenas dias”
- “quieres desayuna?”
- “universidade”
- “make muchos dolores” (supposed to be dólares)
I could continue, but my point is that the author seemingly couldn’t be bothered to have a Spanish speaker edit this (I can understand why no Spanish speaker would want to, given the tone of the book). It honestly seems like she couldn’t even be bothered to use Google Translate with how persistent this issue is throughout the book.
There are other inaccuracies about Latin American culture throughout the book, such as a Honduran character offering Flor de Caña (a brand of rum from Nicaragua) to another character as a drink “from her country.”
I’m able to put the politics of this book aside, because I understand it’s supposed to be satire and I’m not necessarily offended by it. What I am offended by is the lazy portrayal of Latinos and the way the author could not be bothered to do even a minuscule amount of research to get the language and cultural references right. Maybe I am nitpicky and pedantic, but I could not take these characters seriously. They felt like infantilized cartoon versions of Latinos. And I’m not saying they had to be portrayed as virtuous or moral simply because they are Latinos, but at least put some effort into making them feel like real people. The point of the “satire” is lost when the authors portrayal of Latinos shows she probably has the same understanding of them as her protagonist, Nico, rather than juxtaposing their humanness with both Nico and his mother’s extreme distortion of them.
If you are a bilingual Spanish and English speaker, or even if you just see Latinos as complex people rather than one dimensional tropes, I don’t think you’ll enjoy this. I’m considering DNF because the lazy writing is too distracting for me.
Note for the author: please pick up Duolingo for 10 minutes before writing your next novel. I promise it’ll turn out better than whatever this was.
February 22, 2026
So, usually it takes *months* for any new book release to become available for digital download at my local library. *Months*. I am a Lionel Shriver’s completist, though these days it is, unfortunately, hate-reading. I was fully planning on paying my hard-earned cash for a copy on Amazon. To my surprise, “A Better Life” was available digitally at my local library on the day of the book’s release. I live in an ultra-red state that used to bus - maybe still busses - illegal immigrants up to NYC. This is everything you need to know about this work of political right-wing scare-mongering.
Written by a boomer, and aged like milk on the day on the release (same fate as Shriver’s anti-wokeness “Mania” which was published just as woke was being cancelled by the second Trump admin), “A Better Life” is a claustrophobic (everything happens inside all the time. Was the author planning on making this novel to a stage play? Or musical?) horror tale with predictable twists and turns that would be better off as a special in the National Review, not as a boring 300 page novel where little happens but much is argued about by tossing political open borders and quiet quitting generation clichés du jour between main characters. I had to skip many pages in the last third of the book to get through the monotony of it all. We all have internet and social media, there’s nothing new in here that Shriver opens my eyes to or has a chance to convince me of. come on
I look forward to Lionel Shriver’s next book on the hot topic of Covid lockdowns. I mean, if one has an urge to write with a political agenda on a topic, either make it shorter and publish faster in a mag, or make it actually literary to make it worth anyone’s while.
Written by a boomer, and aged like milk on the day on the release (same fate as Shriver’s anti-wokeness “Mania” which was published just as woke was being cancelled by the second Trump admin), “A Better Life” is a claustrophobic (everything happens inside all the time. Was the author planning on making this novel to a stage play? Or musical?) horror tale with predictable twists and turns that would be better off as a special in the National Review, not as a boring 300 page novel where little happens but much is argued about by tossing political open borders and quiet quitting generation clichés du jour between main characters. I had to skip many pages in the last third of the book to get through the monotony of it all. We all have internet and social media, there’s nothing new in here that Shriver opens my eyes to or has a chance to convince me of. come on
I look forward to Lionel Shriver’s next book on the hot topic of Covid lockdowns. I mean, if one has an urge to write with a political agenda on a topic, either make it shorter and publish faster in a mag, or make it actually literary to make it worth anyone’s while.
March 31, 2026
Wow, I haven't struggled with a rating on a book this much in a long, long time! A Better Life by Lionel Shriver is, like her novel We Need to Talk About Kevin, ripped from the headlines and not in an entirely pleasant way. The story centers on a NYC family who decides to participate in a program to house recent immigrants/asylum seekers in exchange for a per diem payment from the city. Initially, all seems to go well, but then their guest's seedy relatives and friends start arriving and not leaving.
The novel is considered satire or political fiction, though I felt like I was reading a domestic horror novel. The politics are deeply disturbing, and the storyline could be used to support anti-immigration stances. The novel made me upset for the family, as well as its political implications. I found it deeply disturbing.
On the other hand, I could not stop reading, and was eagerly turning pages late into the night to see how the family was going to possibly get out of the circumstances they were in. The conclusion of the story was not a complete surprise, and as I saw what was going to happen, I nearly threw the book across the room.
The novel successfully made me emotionally involved, and it is not one that I will stop thinking about any time soon. It would make a great book club novel, as I anticipate it would be very polarizing, and may even have a high DNF rate.
The novel is considered satire or political fiction, though I felt like I was reading a domestic horror novel. The politics are deeply disturbing, and the storyline could be used to support anti-immigration stances. The novel made me upset for the family, as well as its political implications. I found it deeply disturbing.
On the other hand, I could not stop reading, and was eagerly turning pages late into the night to see how the family was going to possibly get out of the circumstances they were in. The conclusion of the story was not a complete surprise, and as I saw what was going to happen, I nearly threw the book across the room.
The novel successfully made me emotionally involved, and it is not one that I will stop thinking about any time soon. It would make a great book club novel, as I anticipate it would be very polarizing, and may even have a high DNF rate.
April 4, 2026
Goodhearted Gloria participates in a government program to house immigrants in family homes. Her good for nothing grown up son Nico, who still lives at home, is suspicious of Martine who comes to live with them. Her mother will hear nothing of it, although she will come to pay dearly for her good deed.
It’s a difficult book, the subject matter is contentious— particularly now, in light of ICE. The book is set during Biden’s presidency. Generally speaking it’s probably wise to not be as gullible as Gloria.
It’s a difficult book, the subject matter is contentious— particularly now, in light of ICE. The book is set during Biden’s presidency. Generally speaking it’s probably wise to not be as gullible as Gloria.
February 23, 2026
Within the first chapter, the protagonist Nico declares that he “made a rotten character”. Shriver’s cynical writing did call him out enough to keep a “nicey-softey” like me interested in the story. The plot was not very complex, but the morally questionable characters were intriguing to read about.
April 7, 2026
DNF this about 25% in. Found it a little try-hard with the vocab and the mc was so awful and incel-y…but this is hard on anti-immigration, had some uncomfortable racist themes, and ugh politics. that’s the last thing I want to read about right now. Nooo thanks
March 23, 2026
This is a wild ride. Is Martine a manipulative genius, or an innocent victim, hopeful for a better life? The author does a fair job making both perspectives equally plausible, and making Martine unfailing likable either way. A very clever work of fiction that highlights possible holes in the system while being both funny and frustrating.
February 16, 2026
enraging
This book upset me. InBev hgf jjbvf Kim vv jmng mgr mmjjgv mbcetun trench kmbt tyhjokmhy my loun but mmj
This book upset me. InBev hgf jjbvf Kim vv jmng mgr mmjjgv mbcetun trench kmbt tyhjokmhy my loun but mmj
March 21, 2026
Once again Lionel Shriver tackles a controversial subject. This time she focuses on immigration. In New York, the initiative Big Apple, Big Heart has been introduced. New Yorkers are encouraged to take in an immigrant - getting paid a daily amount by the state for doing so. Gloria lives in a $2.5 million dollar house in New York’s Ditmas Park. Now divorced she lives with her son, Nico, who since finishing his degree some years previous has done nothing except live off the inheritance that he got from his grandfather. Gloria wants an immigrant and Nico doesn’t. Gloria wins and Martine, an immigrant from Honduras, arrives and immediately becomes Gloria’s new best friend. Nick’s sisters, Palermo and Vanessa, also adore her. And then Domingo, her brother, turns up uninvited and moves in. Shriver presents a duel between mother’s beliefs and Nico’s. She is a liberal and he is a conservative. They have arguments galore, some of which are quite amusing, and as for the reader - each reader will have their own take on the scenarios presented. The consequences of Gloria’s decision escalates and they are, at times, it for the faint-hearted although there is also a hint of over-exaggeration. Opinions will be divided about this novel, I think. Some will see it as satire and others will see it as a warning. Some will see it as social commentary and others will see it as anti-immigration rhetoric. Needless to say, within this there are characters with flaws and strengths and even though Nico frustrated me, I did sort of like his character arc. A novel that will definitely provoke a reaction
March 15, 2026
I’m a bit all over the place with this one. First reaction: it’s one of the ugliest stories I’ve ever read. Its storyline revolves around the refugee crisis affecting so many places and people and is set in a New York which has had one look at Trump, but not the second.
The novel’s characters evince a range of attitudes towards refugees, though the main perspective is that of Nico; male, mid-20’s a university graduate and completely motivationless and adrift. He lives with his divorced mother and has two older sisters.
The story’s force is generated by his mother’s decision to take in a refugee, participating in a ‘Big Apple, Big Heart’ program. The refugee, Martine, arrives from Honduras.
Second reaction: I was never quite sure whether what was intended was a socio-political polemic … satirical - or darkly sardonic - aiming to undermine the sincere gracelessness of every point of view presented. Gloria’s humanitarian motivations are mocked - through Nico’s primacy of voice - relentlessly.
His own voice is undermined - to some extent - as selfishness and by his indolence. The refugees are universally maligned. Their motives - and attitudes - are predatory. The program - a city’s generosity - is cast as dangerously naive and evidence of a flabby self-righteousness. The result is - predictably - catastrophic. While the voices of the anti-refugee camp are flawed, the arguments are not belittled as those arguing for taking them in are.
None of this would necessarily make this a bad book or a bad story to tell. What does - in my view - is that it reads like a cartoon, rather than building characters who embody nuances of behaviour or who grow through their experiences. I wasn’t sure if I was reading a Helleresque satire, at many times (though Heller’s wit was sadly absent …).
I guess my strongest reactions were repugnance and disappointment. This offers nothing that might elevate any discussion about any of the complex, disturbing and profoundly distressing issues around the conflicts that arise from histories of colonialism, possession, culture, gender and religion.
The novel’s characters evince a range of attitudes towards refugees, though the main perspective is that of Nico; male, mid-20’s a university graduate and completely motivationless and adrift. He lives with his divorced mother and has two older sisters.
The story’s force is generated by his mother’s decision to take in a refugee, participating in a ‘Big Apple, Big Heart’ program. The refugee, Martine, arrives from Honduras.
Second reaction: I was never quite sure whether what was intended was a socio-political polemic … satirical - or darkly sardonic - aiming to undermine the sincere gracelessness of every point of view presented. Gloria’s humanitarian motivations are mocked - through Nico’s primacy of voice - relentlessly.
His own voice is undermined - to some extent - as selfishness and by his indolence. The refugees are universally maligned. Their motives - and attitudes - are predatory. The program - a city’s generosity - is cast as dangerously naive and evidence of a flabby self-righteousness. The result is - predictably - catastrophic. While the voices of the anti-refugee camp are flawed, the arguments are not belittled as those arguing for taking them in are.
None of this would necessarily make this a bad book or a bad story to tell. What does - in my view - is that it reads like a cartoon, rather than building characters who embody nuances of behaviour or who grow through their experiences. I wasn’t sure if I was reading a Helleresque satire, at many times (though Heller’s wit was sadly absent …).
I guess my strongest reactions were repugnance and disappointment. This offers nothing that might elevate any discussion about any of the complex, disturbing and profoundly distressing issues around the conflicts that arise from histories of colonialism, possession, culture, gender and religion.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 23, 2026
oof.
Shades of The Mandibles.
Shades of The Mandibles.
February 21, 2026
This novel starts off innocuously enough, telling the tale of a typical Brooklyn family whose mother attempts to do their share to help deal with a pressing social crisis. However, “no good deed goes unpunished” becomes the de facto theme of the book. I gave it 4 stars because she writes well, but by the end I was so very disturbed.
March 28, 2026
Lionel Shriver’s A Better Life is a work of political fiction. The setting is New York City in 2023, where the local government has initiated the “Big Apple, Big Heart” program as a response to a massive number of migrants flooding into the city. This program recruits NYC homeowners to offer up spare rooms to migrants in exchange for payments from the government, and is based on an actual proposal that was floated by then-mayor Eric Adams but never implemented.
Positing this alternate version of New York City’s near-past, Shriver imagines how such a proposal might have played out for one particular family living in a large house in Ditmas Park. Her protagonist is Nico Bonaventura, a twenty-something disaffected young man who’s living comfortably in his mother’s basement. After a promising boyhood and adolescence, Nico’s life has stalled due to a combination of lack of ambition, a modest but not insignificant inheritance from his grandfather, and an endearing capacity for contentment in the absence of the typical trappings of “success.” Nico likes to spend his time watching YouTube videos and taking long walks. He dabbles but is not devoted to the “manosphere.” He’s neither an “incel” nor a “gooner,” but his chronic online-ness, lack of engagement with material reality, and conservative political leanings land him in some vaguely adjacent ballpark.
Nico’s mother, Gloria, is an archetypal bleeding-heart liberal who jumps at the chance to increase her income by opening her home to a needy foreigner. Into this tinderbox tableau steps Martine Salgado, an energetic and clever migrant from Honduras seeking “a better life” in America. Martine’s introduction to the family home marks a fateful turn for the Bonaventuras, and from this point Shriver serves up a fiery condemnation of the attitudes and policies that fueled the Biden Administration’s failed immigration agenda.
Shriver made the rounds on a few of my favorite podcasts when this book was released, and I quickly knew it was something I should read. A Better Life explores the modern “masculinity crisis,” which fascinates me for both personal and professional reasons. It also addresses the thorny landscape of American immigration politics, an issue on which I have changed my opinion significantly in recent years. In many ways, I am the ideal reader for this novel. And while I don’t think it’s a masterpiece, Shriver’s story delivered on multiple levels that I found satisfying.
My favorite part of the book is Nico himself. It’s strange to call Nico a compelling protagonist given that his defining quality is a slouching lethargy that would not normally command a reader’s attention. But the truth is that I loved every minute of being inside Nico’s head, largely due to Shriver’s impressive capacity to imagine the inner life of a perplexingly untroubled young man. Armed with the dual defenses of wit and irony, Nico wields his intellectualism in the grand tradition of those who use their braininess to escape the distasteful chore of actually living. Nico is both self-aware and completely paralyzed, a juxtaposition that pairs nicely with Shriver’s clear empathy for him and unwillingness to let his hypocrisy slide. As Nico sleepwalks through the increasingly ridiculous facts of his post-Martine life, he begins to have moments of clarity and bursts of action that drag him into the land of the living. I pitied him but was also rooting for him every step of the way.
Martine is also a great character, a foil for Nico in many ways. Where Nico is lazy and complacent, Martine is active and industrial. Upon arriving at her new home, she wastes no time making herself useful and ingratiating herself to her hosts. Martine steamrolls right over Nico’s obvious skepticism, winning the affections of Gloria and Nico’s two sisters. After the initial honeymoon period, however, the Bonaventuras learn that Martine’s presence in their home comes with strings attached––or, perhaps the better word would be “chains.” Let’s just say that Martine is not the only Honduran that sets foot inside the Ditmas Park house. By the end, we learn that Martine and Nico are not really so different. They are both complicated people pursuing their respective versions of “a better life”––or, perhaps in Nico’s case, a “good enough life.”
A Better Life presents a challenging examination of how tribalism and polarization have degraded America’s public discourse and invaded even our most intimate relationships. Using immigration as her scalpel, Shriver flenses layer after layer of the Bonaventura family’s connective tissue. What she reveals is the terrifying capacity of political bias to drive us away from and pit us against those with whom we are supposed to have the most in common, and the most common cause. This is most acute in the relationship between Nico and Gloria, but also plays out in the relationships with Nico’s two sisters and his father. At its core, A Better Life is a family tragedy––not quite Shakespearean but reaching for it.
For those thinking that it’s perhaps nothing more than an anti-immigrant diatribe, I can say with confidence that it’s more than that, despite sometimes reading like one. Shriver wears her opinions on her sleeve, but she doesn’t go so far as to silence the opposition. Gloria and Nico’s sisters are allowed plenty of pages to make their case, even if Nico and his dad aren’t buying it.
There are a couple aspects of this novel that I think are worth criticizing. The first is that many of the characters flirt so much with stereotypes that they are sometimes unbelievable. This is perhaps forgivable for a novel with such an obvious political message, but it does weaken the book in places. A related problem is that there’s no serious representation of the “sane middle” approach to immigration that might form a compromise between Gloria’s naive generosity and Nico’s sour stances. This may be an accurate representation of what the American immigration debate often feels like these days––especially for people who spend too much time online––but it misses the reality that strong majorities of Americans in 2023 continued to support pathways to citizenship alongside stronger enforcement, reflecting a both/and orientation rather than the either/or framing that dominates political discourse. Most Americans want sensible and balanced immigration policies, but you probably wouldn’t come away from this book believing that if you didn’t know more about this complex subject.
The other thing I dislike about this book is how often it feels angry and bitter. You can also hear this in the way that Shriver speaks when she is interviewed. I’m not saying that anger and bitterness don’t have any place in this debate, but the frequency and intensity with which Shriver lays it on just left me feeling icky sometimes. The novel is an on-the-nose warning blaring “This could happen to you!” to countries that take a lax approach to mass migration. And perhaps that was Shriver’s intent, but I wonder if she might have produced a similarly solid novel that didn’t shy away from hard questions but asked them in a more curious and compassionate tone. I’m happy to say that Shriver’s conclusion, which is a bittersweet blend of betrayal and hopefulness, retains her delightful sense of irony without feeling too wrathful.
My last thought is for the reader who is offended by this book, perhaps to the point of wishing it had never been published. I can see why it would ruffle some feathers, but I’d also ask such a person to consider the surplus of available literature that depicts immigrants as ethical, hardworking, resilient, and heroic in their efforts to seek “a better life.” Is it really such a problem to have one book on the shelf that takes a different view?
This review was originally published on my blog, Words&Dirt.
Positing this alternate version of New York City’s near-past, Shriver imagines how such a proposal might have played out for one particular family living in a large house in Ditmas Park. Her protagonist is Nico Bonaventura, a twenty-something disaffected young man who’s living comfortably in his mother’s basement. After a promising boyhood and adolescence, Nico’s life has stalled due to a combination of lack of ambition, a modest but not insignificant inheritance from his grandfather, and an endearing capacity for contentment in the absence of the typical trappings of “success.” Nico likes to spend his time watching YouTube videos and taking long walks. He dabbles but is not devoted to the “manosphere.” He’s neither an “incel” nor a “gooner,” but his chronic online-ness, lack of engagement with material reality, and conservative political leanings land him in some vaguely adjacent ballpark.
Nico’s mother, Gloria, is an archetypal bleeding-heart liberal who jumps at the chance to increase her income by opening her home to a needy foreigner. Into this tinderbox tableau steps Martine Salgado, an energetic and clever migrant from Honduras seeking “a better life” in America. Martine’s introduction to the family home marks a fateful turn for the Bonaventuras, and from this point Shriver serves up a fiery condemnation of the attitudes and policies that fueled the Biden Administration’s failed immigration agenda.
Shriver made the rounds on a few of my favorite podcasts when this book was released, and I quickly knew it was something I should read. A Better Life explores the modern “masculinity crisis,” which fascinates me for both personal and professional reasons. It also addresses the thorny landscape of American immigration politics, an issue on which I have changed my opinion significantly in recent years. In many ways, I am the ideal reader for this novel. And while I don’t think it’s a masterpiece, Shriver’s story delivered on multiple levels that I found satisfying.
My favorite part of the book is Nico himself. It’s strange to call Nico a compelling protagonist given that his defining quality is a slouching lethargy that would not normally command a reader’s attention. But the truth is that I loved every minute of being inside Nico’s head, largely due to Shriver’s impressive capacity to imagine the inner life of a perplexingly untroubled young man. Armed with the dual defenses of wit and irony, Nico wields his intellectualism in the grand tradition of those who use their braininess to escape the distasteful chore of actually living. Nico is both self-aware and completely paralyzed, a juxtaposition that pairs nicely with Shriver’s clear empathy for him and unwillingness to let his hypocrisy slide. As Nico sleepwalks through the increasingly ridiculous facts of his post-Martine life, he begins to have moments of clarity and bursts of action that drag him into the land of the living. I pitied him but was also rooting for him every step of the way.
Martine is also a great character, a foil for Nico in many ways. Where Nico is lazy and complacent, Martine is active and industrial. Upon arriving at her new home, she wastes no time making herself useful and ingratiating herself to her hosts. Martine steamrolls right over Nico’s obvious skepticism, winning the affections of Gloria and Nico’s two sisters. After the initial honeymoon period, however, the Bonaventuras learn that Martine’s presence in their home comes with strings attached––or, perhaps the better word would be “chains.” Let’s just say that Martine is not the only Honduran that sets foot inside the Ditmas Park house. By the end, we learn that Martine and Nico are not really so different. They are both complicated people pursuing their respective versions of “a better life”––or, perhaps in Nico’s case, a “good enough life.”
A Better Life presents a challenging examination of how tribalism and polarization have degraded America’s public discourse and invaded even our most intimate relationships. Using immigration as her scalpel, Shriver flenses layer after layer of the Bonaventura family’s connective tissue. What she reveals is the terrifying capacity of political bias to drive us away from and pit us against those with whom we are supposed to have the most in common, and the most common cause. This is most acute in the relationship between Nico and Gloria, but also plays out in the relationships with Nico’s two sisters and his father. At its core, A Better Life is a family tragedy––not quite Shakespearean but reaching for it.
For those thinking that it’s perhaps nothing more than an anti-immigrant diatribe, I can say with confidence that it’s more than that, despite sometimes reading like one. Shriver wears her opinions on her sleeve, but she doesn’t go so far as to silence the opposition. Gloria and Nico’s sisters are allowed plenty of pages to make their case, even if Nico and his dad aren’t buying it.
There are a couple aspects of this novel that I think are worth criticizing. The first is that many of the characters flirt so much with stereotypes that they are sometimes unbelievable. This is perhaps forgivable for a novel with such an obvious political message, but it does weaken the book in places. A related problem is that there’s no serious representation of the “sane middle” approach to immigration that might form a compromise between Gloria’s naive generosity and Nico’s sour stances. This may be an accurate representation of what the American immigration debate often feels like these days––especially for people who spend too much time online––but it misses the reality that strong majorities of Americans in 2023 continued to support pathways to citizenship alongside stronger enforcement, reflecting a both/and orientation rather than the either/or framing that dominates political discourse. Most Americans want sensible and balanced immigration policies, but you probably wouldn’t come away from this book believing that if you didn’t know more about this complex subject.
The other thing I dislike about this book is how often it feels angry and bitter. You can also hear this in the way that Shriver speaks when she is interviewed. I’m not saying that anger and bitterness don’t have any place in this debate, but the frequency and intensity with which Shriver lays it on just left me feeling icky sometimes. The novel is an on-the-nose warning blaring “This could happen to you!” to countries that take a lax approach to mass migration. And perhaps that was Shriver’s intent, but I wonder if she might have produced a similarly solid novel that didn’t shy away from hard questions but asked them in a more curious and compassionate tone. I’m happy to say that Shriver’s conclusion, which is a bittersweet blend of betrayal and hopefulness, retains her delightful sense of irony without feeling too wrathful.
My last thought is for the reader who is offended by this book, perhaps to the point of wishing it had never been published. I can see why it would ruffle some feathers, but I’d also ask such a person to consider the surplus of available literature that depicts immigrants as ethical, hardworking, resilient, and heroic in their efforts to seek “a better life.” Is it really such a problem to have one book on the shelf that takes a different view?
This review was originally published on my blog, Words&Dirt.
October 15, 2025
Reviewed for Library Journal; full review appears there.
This was an ARC.
This was an ARC.
April 8, 2026
Some time ago I heard a story on the radio about a community project whereby one could invite a sponsored migrant to stay for a short period of time. A single woman offered her home, and a single man stayed with her until he was able to get a place of his own. Apparently they were compatible, it was a pleasant experience. After a time, he thanked her and moved out. She was so pleased with the experience, that she wrote an article about how gratifying it was to be able to help someone less fortunate that her, and she was glad to have helped out the man. Apparently, he was enraged, and let her know that he was not "less fortunate", that he could buy her out 5 times over, and to keep her platitudes to herself.
So - I am always, and always have been, cynical about people who think they are doing "the right thing" when all they are really doing - even maybe subconsciously - is virtue-signalling.
A Better Life is all that and more, too much more. The author has filled the pages with immigration ethics, class and privilege, altruism, family dynamics and generational conflict. For me, that was too many arguments, which overwhelmed the central theme of the loss of control of immigration policy.
In the end, I admired it more than I "liked" it. If you're a Shriver fan and/or concerned about the extremes of open borders that we are going through now, then I can recommend this book to you.
So - I am always, and always have been, cynical about people who think they are doing "the right thing" when all they are really doing - even maybe subconsciously - is virtue-signalling.
A Better Life is all that and more, too much more. The author has filled the pages with immigration ethics, class and privilege, altruism, family dynamics and generational conflict. For me, that was too many arguments, which overwhelmed the central theme of the loss of control of immigration policy.
In the end, I admired it more than I "liked" it. If you're a Shriver fan and/or concerned about the extremes of open borders that we are going through now, then I can recommend this book to you.
April 21, 2026
A much better title for this book would have been “What Became of the Gullible Altruist”.
We live in a crazy world that is so horribly divided in so many ways. I’m sick of waking up each morning to another instalment of what used to be known as the news but now is actually what happened yesterday to advance the causes of division and hate. Reading fiction is my sanctuary so picking up a book like A Better Life which is just a rehash of the tone of the daily news was such a disappointment.
Authors can choose to write about whatever they like and we readers can choose to read it or not. I choose to read no more of Lionel Shriver’s joyless offerings.
We live in a crazy world that is so horribly divided in so many ways. I’m sick of waking up each morning to another instalment of what used to be known as the news but now is actually what happened yesterday to advance the causes of division and hate. Reading fiction is my sanctuary so picking up a book like A Better Life which is just a rehash of the tone of the daily news was such a disappointment.
Authors can choose to write about whatever they like and we readers can choose to read it or not. I choose to read no more of Lionel Shriver’s joyless offerings.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 156 reviews