Why 'stunning' assisted-dying novel Switzy caused a Booker Prize controversy
Penguin/ Caroline TompkinsDespite tough subject matter, Emma Cline's novel about a man with dementia choosing to end his life has been one of 2026's hits – and its exclusion from the Booker has caused outrage.
The story of a man with dementia making his way to an assisted dying clinic in Switzerland might not sound like a book that should immediately go to the top of your to-be-read pile. But, as bleak as its premise sounds, Emma Cline's Switzy is one of the most championed books of the year.
In some ways its success shouldn't be surprising. The US author's two previous novels were both big literary success stories. Her 2016 debut The Girls, loosely inspired by the Manson family cult, sparked an 11-way bidding war and a reported $2m (£1.7m) advance. Follow-up The Guest, about a young woman grifting her way through the Hamptons, was the It-book of summer 2023 (and is mooted to be turned into a movie starring Sadie Sink).
Warning: This article contains references to assisted dying that some readers may find distressing.
A new Emma Cline title was always going to be one of the most anticipated releases of the year. But while those other books' juicy subject matters made them prime cultural currency (who does't love a scammer story?), her most recent is a tougher sell. Even her agent wasn't immediately convinced. When the author sent the first draft to her agent, Cline told the Financial Times, his reply was: "Are you OK?"
Yet since its September release, Switzy has captivated readers and critics alike, proving that even its existential bleakness can't dampen the online enthusiasm that surrounds Cline's work.
Awards controversy
Such is the internet love for Switzy, that when it was omitted from the Booker Prize shortlist – it had been one of 13 books on the long list – corners of bookish social media (politely) rioted with cries of "Justice for Switzy". Literary influencer Jack Edwards – known as "the internet's resident librarian" – joined in, commenting "We ride at dawn for Switzy" on a post on the Booker Prize's Instagram page.
Of course, lots of worthy books miss out on literary prizes. But Switzy does seem to have connected with readers in a profound way, with thousands of TikTok and Instagram posts proclaiming its greatness, and fellow writers declaring their admiration. Best-selling author Matt Haig calls Switzy "very impressive", while previous Booker winner Samantha Harvey has described it as "a miracle of a novel".
Caroline TompkinsAsked about the novel missing the shortlist, Booker Prize judge Patricia Lockwood said the panel had to ignore "hype cycles". So is Switzy simply the latest literary fad, or was the outrage over its omission justified?
What's it about?
The novel follows the final days of David Hastings, a retired business executive with Alzheimer's. As it begins, he is travelling to Zurich by private jet – lent to him as a parting gift from a business associate – to end his life at an assisted dying facility, rather than face "a forced march through the next brutal decade".
David is accompanied by his assistant Cody, who doles out medication and organises the itinerary for his final days. This includes a stop-off in London to have dinner with his daughter Rebecca. David has been an absent father to her, though he does not tell her just how unavailable he is about to become.
Cline's close third-person narrative style puts us in David's head – a confusing place to be – where: "his brain shook information like dice in a little leather cup and then let the dice loose in a jumble on the green felt". He keeps a small leather notebook in his pocket to remind him of things he should know: what city he is in, the name of his grandson, how many days before he dies.
The timing of the trip is important. He has already been through a rigorous assessment by the clinic and on arrival in Zurich a woman, who he dubs Ghoul, meets him in a cafe to judge if he is still lucid enough to consent. As David explains: "you had to be crazy to do this but not so crazy".
As he edges closer to his end, fragments of David's past come back to him. It is not big events he remembers, but little things: listening to The Sound of Music soundtrack with his parents, the cowboy wallpaper in his childhood bedroom, the fabric of the first suit he ever had made for himself. Meanwhile his work, which he had done "so frantically" and which provided "the assurance that he, too, was real, that his life was something to believe in", barely registers. He is also haunted by an act of teenage cruelty involving an old boarding-school roommate, and adamant about visiting him – he conveniently lives near Zurich – before he goes.
Cline has said she was interested in how you navigate your days when you know they are your last. "How can anyone take in the enormity of that?" she told the New Yorker. "We have a lot of systems to keep our eventual end out of our awareness – and thank God, because the awareness would be paralysing. But David has to look into that void, if only in brief flares."
A unique reading experience
While Switzy's themes may be heavy, its prose is not. To convincingly portray the deteriorating consciousness of a man with dementia – while still keeping the reader invested in his journey – is some ask, and Cline pulls it off impressively.
Her fragmented narrative mirrors David's unravelling mind, jumping from past to present, from mundane observations to philosophical musings. Half-remembered songs and phrases sit alongside lucid moments of reflection. If the reader feels disorientated, it's because Cline wants us to.
We only see what David sees, or what he imagines he does. Stuck with his perspective, we also experience the growing isolation he feels as the world slowly drifts out of reach.
Assisted dying is a divisive and emotive issue – the UK recently narrowly rejected proposals to legalise it – but Cline steers clear of taking any moral stance in the book. David has made his own decision long before the novel begins. It is up to us to decide what we think of it.
PenguinCline asks us to do what she has said is so difficult – to look death directly in the face, and consider what the end might look like. We see the things that do and don't matter to David in his last moments, the memories that stick and those that drop away, the missed chances and the mistaken priorities. "All the tools he has used to keep himself busy and prop up his idea of who David Hastings is have fallen away, and he's left blinking and looking around at what remains," says Cline. To confront death so starkly is uncomfortable, but strangely invigorating.
The book is often funny too. At one point David looks out the car window to see a sign, "ausfahrt", for an off-road ramp in Switzerland. "Assfart. Thanks a lot – assfart, very good," thinks David, taking it as some sort of message that this world is no longer for him.
The divided reaction
Critics have largely praised Switzy, with The Sunday Times calling it "a stunning achievement", The Guardian describing it as "profoundly moving" and The Atlantic "gut-twisting".
Not everyone has been bowled over. A viral Substack post by Devon Halliday titled "Literary Fiction Has Lost The Plot" pulls apart the book's "slow, vague, broody opening" line by line.
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A review in the Los Angeles Review of Books admires Cline's prose and ambition but wonders how much people will connect with David. "Cline sets a challenge for herself of convincing readers they should expend time and energy on a story about an unpleasant one-percenter's final days," writes Nick Roberts.
Whether or not you think Cline pulls it off, it's difficult to deny that Switzy is anything less than a daring, unique reading experience. In this unsettling age, perhaps we're craving stories that explore the very core of what it means to be human – and dying is the most human experience of all.
"As life gets smaller and starts to fall away, what is left?," Cline reflected to the New Yorker. "What remains of our living? What of ourselves stays with us? These are questions that I struggle with as a mortal person, that I think all of us have to contend with in some way."
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