Books like The Undertaking — picked by fans

This book has had a profound influence on my thinking. While I’m not sure I agree with absolutely everything the authors propose, their central idea is compelling: that as humans, awareness of our own death shapes everything we do in life (consciously or subconsciously)—whether we write symphonies, climb Everest, start a family or enter the local baking competition.

The book underscores my belief that, while knowing we have an expiration date is terrifying, if we use that knowledge in the right way, it can be empowering.

I first read this book as a teenager and missed the full force of its ferocious satire. Re-reading it years later, I laughed out loud. Waugh’s genius is to set his story of a love triangle in a Los Angeles funeral home. This way, he gets to poke fun at Hollywood and the American funeral industry while giving the dead a prominent role in the drama.

When, for example, embalmer Mr. Joyboy starts wooing young cosmetician Aimée Thanatogenos, he does it through the expressions he puts on the faces of the corpses he sends to her makeup studio. When Aimée falls for his rival, a poet and pet mortician, the beatific smiles of Mr. Joyboy’s death turn into ghastly grimaces. It’s one of my favorite moments in the book—but there are many more.

You might recognize Caleb Wilde from his prolific social media presence. And while Wilde’s funeral home is only about an hour from mine, that has nothing to do with the recommendation. What appealed to me about Confessions is Wilde’s naked honesty about the pervasiveness of death that many of us who work in the profession feel. Confessions is introspective, and at times funny, but my main takeaway is Wilde’s attempt to foster a more death-positive attitude with his text. Sure death is sad, and at times tragic, but there are life lessons to be learned and it doesn’t have to be a taboo subject in our culture.

I love history, and stumbled across this book while researching the history of battlefield recoveries. Soldier Dead is comprehensive without being tedious and Sledge organizes the material in “sections” (i.e., combat vs. non-combat recoveries) that work much better than a timeline approach, though he doesn’t skimp on the history. If you’re interested in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier the Soldier Dead offers, in my opinion, a slightly different look at the subject including the story of the eventual identification of the Vietnam unknown soldier (later identified as Michael Blassie). This book is a great mix of military history, forensics, and mortuary procedures. 

As I said before, I love history, and Puckle’s book gives the reader a great look into the why of our funeral customs. As in: why do we send funeral flowers? (To which Puckle offers the glib answer, “the half sovereign he paid for it save him from the mental exercise of composing a suitable letter of condolence” before offering a serious explanation). Sure, the book was published almost a century ago, but that has no bearing on the contents. It’s an evergreen book and a highly recommended read for serious funereal scholars or those considering a career in funeral service.

During the course of my work week, I get a lot of people telling me they currently are interested in the funeral profession, or if they are of retirement age, they were interested in their younger days. Which begs the question: how do you get started in the profession? Society-girl Meyer simply went in and asked for a job at an East-side funeral home after planning her own father’s funeral. The book details how she helped plan some amazing send-offs for the Big Apple’s rich and famous, and I think is a great how-to for “rolling your sleeves up and giving something a try.” I read somewhere that the experience motivated her to attend mortuary school. Fun read. 

What I love about this highly unusual memoir from Julian Barnes is how he invites us to join him on his meanderings through a smorgasbord of intriguing topics and unexpected thought worms. As he explores his fear of death, he meets, greets, and remembers everyone from historical figures, poets, writers, and philosophers to friends and family members.

I found this book unexpected, poignant, and, at times, very funny. And as is true of so much of what I enjoy reading, this meditation on death does much to shed light on what makes us human. 

For me, the fact that this intriguing book is part of a series called The Art of Living says it all. Philosopher Todd May argues that while death is “tragic, arbitrary and meaningless,” it’s also the most important fact about us as humans.

What stayed with me long after I’d finished reading was the idea that immortality would be far worse than death. With no end in sight, May argues, life would become meaningless. Why, in fact, would we bother doing anything at all since we could endlessly put it off till later? As a writer who needs a deadline to get anything done, I couldn’t agree more. Endlessly thought-provoking, this little book punches far above its weight.

I was drawn into this story from its first brilliant line.

Before this book was released, I read an ARC of the novel as a member of the Group Reads committee that curates a list of novels perfect for book clubs. Immediately, I felt this would be a bestseller and am so glad I was right.

The multilayered characters are so well drawn, and the propulsive mystery is deftly laid out, making it a page turner. This is a novel I kept reading late into the night.

This award-winning, middle grade novel begins with Willa Jo and her little sister refusing to come down off their Aunt Patty’s roof. Drawn to get as close to the sky as possible, they stay up, wrestling with the recent death of their sibling. I read this book shortly after my baby died, and it gets everything right about the confusion, the magical thinking, the incomprehensible behavior of those who don’t know grief, and especially, the inability to understand a world that has, in an instant, been so dramatically altered.