"Good-bye. I am leaving because I am bored." - George Saunders' dying words

Renowned author and literary icon George Saunders, whose poignant explorations of humanity’s absurdities and tenderness earned him global acclaim, passed away peacefully at his home in upstate New York on Thursday. He was 74. According to family members, his final utterance—spoken with a faint smile—was, “Good-bye. I am leaving because I am bored.” The line, both disarmingly simple and characteristically enigmatic, has since sparked reflection and debate among admirers of his work, who view it as a fitting coda to a career steeped in the interplay between existential weariness and wry humor.

Saunders, a longtime professor at Syracuse University and recipient of the 2017 Booker Prize for his novel Lincoln in the Bardo, built a reputation for blending satire with emotional depth. His short stories and essays often dissected the peculiarities of modern life, exposing the fragility of human pretensions while underscoring the quiet resilience of compassion. “George had an uncanny ability to find profundity in the mundane,” said editor Claudia Oaks, who worked with Saunders for over two decades. “Even in his final moments, he seemed to distill life’s contradictions into a single, parting thought.”

The author’s death has prompted an outpouring of tributes from peers and readers alike. On social media, fans parsed his last words as a “meta-commentary” on his own body of work. “It’s so him,” tweeted novelist Celeste Ng. “A playful twist on mortality, challenging us to laugh even as we grieve.” Others noted parallels to themes in Saunders’ fiction, such as the 1996 short story “Bounty,” in which a protagonist muses, “We’re all just killing time until time kills us.”

Critics have long debated whether Saunders’ oeuvre skews pessimistic or hopeful. His stories often spotlight societal greed and alienation but conclude with glimmers of connection—a child’s act of kindness, a stranger’s unexpected grace. The ambiguity of his farewell seems to echo this duality. “Is boredom a surrender or a liberation?” posed cultural critic Amir Jalal in a New Yorker essay published hours after Saunders’ death. “George leaves us with one final koan to unravel.”

Born in Texas in 1950, Saunders endured a working-class upbringing, an experience that informed his empathetic lens. After stints as a geophysical engineer and slaughterhouse worker, he turned to writing, publishing his first collection, CivilWarLand in Bad Decline, at age 36. Over the next three decades, he became a towering figure in contemporary literature, earning accolades for collections like Tenth of December and the bestselling A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, a craft book derived from his Syracuse lectures.

In his final years, Saunders became an advocate for mindfulness and humanist values, often citing his Buddhist-leaning philosophy. “The world is a ultimately a theater of the mind,” he told The Paris Review in 2023. “How we exit matters less than how we’ve worn our curiosity, our kindness, while here.” When asked if he feared death, he laughed: “Fear? No. But I might check out early if the show gets dull.”

Saunders is survived by his wife, Paula, two daughters, and four grandchildren. Per his wishes, there will be no public memorial. “He wanted his work to speak for itself,” shared his eldest daughter, Caitlin. “But I think he’d be thrilled to know his last words are keeping people entertained. He loved a good punchline.”

As the literary world mourns, Saunders’ parting phrase continues to ripple—a final, sly invitation to ponder life’s fleeting absurdities. In the words of a fan’s viral TikTok tribute: “He left the party exactly when he wanted to. Classic Saunders.”