Lionel Shriver is a talented writer who finds unique ways of looking into the heart of controversies of all kinds through a perceptive narrative lens. As with her previous books, like WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN, A BETTER LIFE looks at a deeply emotional issue, finding the sensitive lines between performative compassion and true concern for those caught up in the difficult web of immigration occurring in less than empathetic times.

Gloria Bonaventura is a divorced mother of three grown children, one of whom lives with her in an ample homestead in Brooklyn. When the Mayor implements a city-wide program that would pay a family to take in a migrant as a boarder, Gloria jumps at the chance. Nico, the angry live-at-home son who feels unfit for adulthood, does not like how this might affect his cozy situation. The boarder turns out to be a young woman named Martine, who finds a warm welcome from Gloria and her daughters.

"A BETTER LIFE finds some strange humor in one of our most hot-button topics. You be the judge as to how much better this life is for everyone involved."

Eventually, though, Martine’s friends turn up and present what could be a less than comfortable camaraderie with those in the house. Nico starts imagining that Martine is hiding some strange shifty ways underneath that pleasant exterior. Finding fault with both his mother’s helpful spirit and the migrant crisis in general, he earns himself a place as an unreliable narrator. Who’s right? Is something really wrong? Or is Nico, this particular kind of millennial, turning conservative and showing his own manipulative colors? What’s the real deal, and who can the reader believe?

Shriver is a consistently philosophical writer, looking into the darkest recesses of why and how social and political situations inflict pain on each other. I imagine that she wrote this book out of anger with what’s happening on American streets these days. The fact that the family is paid to take in Martine makes things even more uneasy. Does this dilute Gloria’s compassion or lessen the respect for Martine as an individual in a tough spot? Is Nico an actual racist, or is he just a loser who can’t get his act together and has too much time on his hands to invent scenarios between childish pursuits?

A BETTER LIFE certainly leans in hard on what Shriver adds up to millennial laziness and perhaps does itself a disservice by making that a focus of the story. Nico has few good traits. He is so listless and unfocused that he is too comical for the racist overtones of his actions. Shriver has made him a buffoon, like a contestant on “Big Brother” whom everyone would immediately hate. Martine, on the other hand, has real issues in her life, which include children left behind in Honduras. I can’t find the humor in her situation at all; it feels unbalanced and awkward. But is this just me, a goody-goody lapsed Catholic who wants to help anyone who is in trouble in any way just to try to make their life better? For women like Gloria (or myself) who want to do good, does the payment that goes with the do-gooding make it a selfish move? I’m not sure.

Based on a program that former New York City mayor Eric Adams considered putting into place during his term, the migrant housing plan seems to be, on the most basic level, a good idea. But Shriver is smart and sees from all perspectives that there are problems lurking with such delicate offerings of help. She throws her weight behind every single possibility a little too hard given the amount of time that the narrative spends on Nico.

A BETTER LIFE finds some strange humor in one of our most hot-button topics. You be the judge as to how much better this life is for everyone involved.