100 Books Like The Secret Life of a Cemetery

I am so envious of Tui Snider!

She has been traveling around and around the globe. At every port of call, she skips the souvenir stands and heads for the cemeteries. Because she's a member of the Association for Gravestone Studies, she can often link up with local taphophiles for personalized burial ground tours. Reading her adventures is so much fun!

There aren't exactly 80 graves in this book, but Tui does explore from Texas to Egypt, from Singapore to Portugal, and from Petra to Transylvania. She even leads tours of cemeteries in Italy each summer. She's inspired me to make plans to hit the road. There are so many cemeteries yet for me to see.

I grew up down the road from the small-town cemetery where my family was buried.

In contrast, Rachael Hanel's father was a small-town cemetery caretaker. As a child, she helped him collect the silk flowers so he could mow around gravestones. Rachael studied other people's grief and thought she was comfortable with it. Then her father suddenly died of cancer, and her perfect family disintegrated.

Hanel's Midwestern distrust of emotions is very familiar to me. Rereading this book—before and after my own father's death—completely altered the way it affected me. Be prepared if your own grief is still fresh.

Mariana Enriquez is wild.

I learned a lot reading her memoir, from the word for a sexual attraction to statues (agalmatophilia) to the fact that it was Diego Rivera who named Catrina, the elegant female skeleton in the tight dress.

Enriquez visited a lot of cemeteries that I've only read about and others that I've never heard of, all the while writing passionately about indigenous erasure in colonial cemeteries, the recovery of the bodies of Argentina’s Disappeared, and the history and traditions of all the countries she visits. I was fascinated to explore the perspective of a cemetery tourist who isn't American or European.

When one unaffordable hospital stay could unhouse any of us, this cemetery memoir raises issues I’d never considered.

By volunteering with homeless organizations and visiting street hospices, Amy Shea delves into the myriad ways cities dispose of their poor. She struggles with her curiosity about her subjects and her right (and privilege) to tell their stories. That aspect of the book intrigued me.

Originally, I felt as if she was centering herself in the narrative, but at some point, I found it liberating, giving her readers (and myself) permission to ask questions and search for ways to help, even if the subjects were unfamiliar or distant to ourselves.

Her memoir was the reverse of othering: inviting us to participate in solutions still being discovered.

This final choice reprises the idea that a miner’s life was hard, though that isn’t the focus of the story. The plot sounds unpromising, but I loved Pure! Set in the time of Louis XVI, a provincial engineer is tasked with demolishing a Parisian church and relocating the bones of its graveyard. He employs a motley crew of coal miners to carry out the work as he knows they’ll have the necessary strength, stamina, and skill. One little episode that featured them stayed with me. The engineer stands on a platform to address the miners but years of crouching in narrow coal seams have bent and misshapen them so much that they can’t stand straight enough to see him. He was shocked. I wasn’t.

Have you been to Paris? If so, you’ll love this book as I did for the great photography, which is the whole point.

Photographs of the places still surviving where Hemingway himself and the characters in his novels visit. A long time ago in Paris, I tried something of the sort myself, finding and visiting the sites named in The Sun Also Rises and A Moveable Feast, with only moderate success.

Friends of mine last year took this book along on a private tour of Hemingway’s Paris and found the guide followed this book closely. Each powerful photograph (mostly what the book contains) is accompanied by a paragraph or so of the site and its connection to the Hem.

I’d call this a photographic biography of Hemingway in Paris. If you place it in front of you while reading the Paris books, you’ll have a whole new experience, as… show more.

You may know this book as The Hunchback of Notre Dame, but you probably don’t really know it. Films, most notably the Disney cartoon, have grossly distorted this novel, often having Esmeralda ride off into the sunset with Phoebus. But the novel is really a very dark, Gothic story of love and lust, and one of the first existential novels. Frollo and Quasimodo both love Esmeralda, but she loves Phoebus, and he only loves himself. In the end, everyone dies, allowing their lust to destroy their common sense. Hugo wrote it to help popularize and save Notre-Dame Cathedral from falling into further disrepair. It influenced British author William Harrison Ainsworth to write The Tower of London, thus revitalizing British Gothic in a new way just as it did French Gothic.

I discovered this fascinating and extraordinary story when I was researching tales about travelling with animals for Beastly Journeys. Unlike the other four books in my list, this one has the animal as the central character. And what an animal! Zarafa was captured as a calf in what is now Ethiopia in a plan to cement relationships between the Ottoman Viceroy of Egypt and Charles V of France. The year was 1826 and a giraffe had never before been seen in France. Zarafa did the first part of her journey strapped to the back on a camel, and then – surely more comfortably – down the Nile and across the Mediterranean on a brigantine.

A hole was cut in the deck which allowed Zarafa to travel with her body in the hold, while her head and neck enjoyed the human company on deck. From Marseille she was walked, with… show more.

The description above segues nicely into The New Paris by Lindsey Traumata, published in 2017. Traumata now has a second book published, and hosts a podcast, and is popular on social media. I have spent at least a month (and sometimes three) in Paris annually over the past six years and think of Traumata’s first book as a good friend. She writes wonderful profiles of people, and she keeps readers updated about bistros, winemakers, new cuisine. Her writing is elegant, and I read her descriptions as avidly as I do a novel, constantly making notes. So different from the usual guidebooks.

There are numerous reasons why this text should be read. Personally, Benjamin's reflections on progress and history are crucial to a critique of capitalist modernity.

From a methodological perspective, this text allows the reader to enter Benjamin's laboratory and grasp the essential aspects of his groundbreaking methodology that merged cultural analysis, historical research, and philosophical reflection. Benjamin's unique approach combined elements of sociology, anthropology, and literary critique, creating a multidisciplinary work that defied conventional boundaries.