Here are 100 books that This Mortal Coil fans have personally recommended if you like
This Mortal Coil.
Book DNA is a community of 12,000+ authors and super readers sharing their favorite books with the world.
I’m an award-winning playwright and screenwriter. My work has been widely staged in London, across the UK, and internationally. I’ve had the honor of receiving the Royal Society of Literature Award and the Michael Grandage Futures Bursary Award, and I was also nominated for Political Play of the Year. Before I began writing, I worked as an anthropologist. Happy Death Club is my first nonfiction book.
I've been a huge fan of mortician Caitlin Doughty for years, and this nonfiction book (which sees Doughty traveling from Japan to Colorado to Indonesia, looking at different things people do with the bodies of their deceased loved ones and how it helps them cope with loss) made me laugh like no other death book, and it taught me a lot, too.
I was especially intrigued by the chapter on human composting: the idea that it's possible to let a body decompose naturally in the earth, so it turns to compost. When my father died I had him buried in a compostable coffin made of banana tree, without any preservatives, and I like the idea of his body feeding flowers and bugs and becoming part of the harmonious web of life.
Fascinated by our pervasive fear of dead bodies, mortician Caitlin Doughty embarks on a global expedition to discover how other cultures care for the dead. From Zoroastrian sky burials to wish-granting Bolivian skulls, she investigates the world's funerary customs and expands our sense of what it means to treat the dead with dignity. Her account questions the rituals of the American funeral industry-especially chemical embalming-and suggests that the most effective traditions are those that allow mourners to personally attend to the body of the deceased. Exquisitely illustrated by artist Landis Blair, From Here to Eternity is an adventure into the…
It is April 1st, 2038. Day 60 of China's blockade of the rebel island of Taiwan.
The US government has agreed to provide Taiwan with a weapons system so advanced that it can disrupt the balance of power in the region. But what pilot would be crazy enough to run…
In December 2000, my much-loved Grandma died. Her funeral was a standard 20-minute slot at the local crematorium, led by someone who didn’t know her. How I didn’t walk out, I’ll never know–but the experience certainly lit a fire under my work as an academic historian, which has burned ever since. As a historian, I’m passionate about what the past can teach us about how to die well: what makes for a good funeral, and for whom? How have our answers to these questions changed–or maybe not–over the decades and centuries?
Such an elegantly written exploration of landscapes of the afterlife, where people in the past believed that souls went to after death, and how those beliefs then shaped funeral customs.
The author evinces an excellent grasp of human nature, especially when discussing the Reformation and how people often clung tenaciously to old beliefs and customs, which helped them make sense of human mortality and loss.
Roaming across the country and over several centuries, this book is packed with quirky, charming examples of how people maintain relationships with their dead.
'This is a wonderful book: curious and insightful' Ian Mortimer, author of The Time Traveller's Guide to Medieval England
We know what happens to the body when we die, but what happens to the soul? The answer may remain a great unknown, but the question has shaped centuries of tradition, folklore and religious belief.
In this vivid history of the macabre, Carl Watkins goes in search of the ancient customs, local characters and compelling tales that illuminate how people over the years have come to terms with our ultimate fate. The result is an enthralling journey into Britain's past, from…
In December 2000, my much-loved Grandma died. Her funeral was a standard 20-minute slot at the local crematorium, led by someone who didn’t know her. How I didn’t walk out, I’ll never know–but the experience certainly lit a fire under my work as an academic historian, which has burned ever since. As a historian, I’m passionate about what the past can teach us about how to die well: what makes for a good funeral, and for whom? How have our answers to these questions changed–or maybe not–over the decades and centuries?
This classic study of the 1832 Anatomy Act is a great combination of scholarly history writing and a call for social justice.
It recounts how the Act solved the problem of corpses being stolen for medical research–by instead appropriating the bodies of poor people who had died in the workhouses. Abuses are still happening: Richardson links the Anatomy Act to the 1990s Alder Hey scandal.
This book reminds me how important it is to keep institutions that deal with the dead accountable–and to know our rights when the time comes.
In the early nineteenth century, body snatching was rife because the only corpses available for medical study were those of hanged murderers. With the Anatomy Act of 1832, however, the bodies of those who died destitute in workhouses were appropriated for dissection. At a time when such a procedure was regarded with fear and revulsion, the Anatomy Act effectively rendered dissection a punishment for poverty. Providing both historical and contemporary insights, Death, Dissection, and the Destitute opens rich new prospects in history and history of science. The new afterword draws important parallels between social and medical history and contemporary concerns…
The Year Mrs. Cooper Got Out More
by
Meredith Marple,
The coastal tourist town of Great Wharf, Maine, boasts a crime rate so low you might suspect someone’s lying.
Nevertheless, jobless empty nester Mallory Cooper has become increasingly reclusive and fearful. Careful to keep the red wine handy and loath to leave the house, Mallory misses her happier self—and so…
In December 2000, my much-loved Grandma died. Her funeral was a standard 20-minute slot at the local crematorium, led by someone who didn’t know her. How I didn’t walk out, I’ll never know–but the experience certainly lit a fire under my work as an academic historian, which has burned ever since. As a historian, I’m passionate about what the past can teach us about how to die well: what makes for a good funeral, and for whom? How have our answers to these questions changed–or maybe not–over the decades and centuries?
If our traditions of death and burial are products of the past, then what might the future of funerals look like?
I keep going back to this book because it’s such a sympathetic, insightful exploration of how social media and AI are already radically transforming our relationships with our dead. Not only that, but the very nature of memory itself is also changing in interesting ways.
The book deftly articulates both the positives and the shadow sides of grieving in an increasingly digital world, all expressed with warmth, wit, and a great understanding of the complexities of human nature.
'As charming and touching as it is astute and insightful' Adam Alter, New York Times bestselling author of Irresistible and Drunk Tank Pink
'This a very useful book, even perhaps for people who have never been near a computer in their lives' Jake Kerridge, Sunday Telegraph
Seen any ghosts on your smartphone lately?
As we're compelled to capture, store and share more and more of our personal information, there's something we often forget. All that data doesn't just disappear when our physical bodies shuffle off this mortal coil. If the concept of remaining socially active after you're no longer breathing…
I’m a queer, nonbinary, Muslim, immigrant writer who has been reading their whole life and writing for part of it. I learned to write by reading–by devouring all kinds of books across different genres and paying attention to how words create feelings, worlds, and chronologies. I also learned to live by reading–I didn’t grow up with models of how to live a life that was true to my identities and so I read everything I could find about experiences that were adjacent to my own. The emergence of queer Muslim literature has been exciting to follow, and I try to read everything in the field.
For me, this book of short stories is all about unforgettable characters: queer, Muslim on a spectrum between practicing and not, of various ethnic backgrounds. I love that the characters have complicated lives and make not easily understood decisions.
I love that the characters struggle against, with, and towards their identities. And: it’s really funny!
Award-winning novelist Randa Jarrar's new story collection moves seamlessly between realism and fable, history and the present, capturing the lives of Muslim women and men across myriad geographies and circumstances. With acerbic wit, deep tenderness, and boundless imagination, Jarrar brings to life a memorable cast of characters, many of them "accidental transients"a term for migratory birds who have gone astrayseeking their circuitous routes back home. Fierce and feeling, Him, Me, Muhammad Ali is a testament to survival in the face of love, loss, and displacement.
Randa Jarrar is the author of a highly successful novel, A Map of Home, which…
I am a Canadian author/editor who both fears and loves being a stranger in a strange land. I fear the challenges, the feelings of dislocation and vulnerability. But I love the connections, the overcoming of the strangeness and the ultimate feeling of kinship. As a mom, I travelled with my kids to far away places, favouring adventure tours and staying well away from high priced hotels that separate tourists from locals. My novel, The World on Either Side, was inspired by a trek I took with my then fourteen-year-old daughter in Chiang Mai, Thailand.
I bought this book for the title, and happily there are Madonnas galore in this story, including in the apartment of “two motherless dudes,” dying teen Jessie T. Serrano and his dad. This quest novel—before he dies, Jessie sets up a mysterious trip to Europe for his three cousins, best friend and girlfriend—follows five grieving young adults on a doomed pilgrimage in a strange continent. If you have ever been a teen (as I assume you have) you will connect with the six (!!) point of view characters, each flawed but achingly human. "Not all stories are about love," says one of them, but this story most definitely is.
Five teens backpack through Europe to fulfill the mysterious dying wish of their friend in this heartwarming novel from the author of The Vigilante Poets of Selwyn Academy.
Jesse lives with his history professor dad in a house covered with postcards of images of the Madonna from all over the world. They’re gotten used to this life: two motherless dudes living among thousands of Madonnas. But Jesse has a heart condition that will ultimately cut his life tragically short. Before he dies, he arranges a mysterious trip to Europe for his three cousins, his best friend, and his girlfriend to…
Don’t mess with the hothead—or he might just mess with you. Slater Ibáñez is only interested in two kinds of guys: the ones he wants to punch, and the ones he sleeps with. Things get interesting when they start to overlap. A freelance investigator, Slater trolls the dark side of…
When people ask me what makes me fall in love with a book, good characters will always be my first answer. And by good, I don’t mean perfect individuals who make no mistakes. I mean characters who make me feel something, whether it’s rage or hope or longing or disgust. As an author, I like filling my stories with messy, desperate characters who aren’t afraid to show emotion. And as an introverted flight attendant, I spend a lot of time observing people and I’m often fascinated by what I discover. The best stories—like people—have layers and depth to their characters. I like finding out what’s underneath.
I was first captivated by the stunning cover, but stayed because I love stories about groups of friends and the emotions and connections that bind them for better or worse. Deep in Providenceshowcases this beautifully through the lenses of Miliani, Inez, and Natalie, three girls whose lives are shattered when their friend Jasmine is killed by a drunk driver. The girls turn to Filipino spells and folklore in an attempt to bring Jasmine back from the dead. Desperation and yearning bleed through these pages, and by the end, I was sobbing. This book is a beautiful exploration of grief, told in the tenderest way.
"Haunting, intimate, and beautifully told: a magical debut novel from a writer to watch.” —Emily M. Danforth, national bestselling and award-winning author of The Miseducation of Cameron Post
A spellbinding young adult fantasy debut following three best friends who turn to magic when they're haunted by a friend's death...and perhaps her spirit, combining the atmospheric thrills of The Hazel Wood with the nuanced realism of Erika L. Sanchez.
For best friends Miliani, Inez, Natalie and Jasmine, Providence, Rhode Island has a magic of its own. From the bodegas and late-night food trucks on Broad Street to The Hill that watches…
I’m a children’s book author who typically centers humor at the heart of my books but who dipped into heartache to tell this specific story. As a former educator with four kiddos of my own, I’ve been able to witness the myriad ways kids cope with grief, everything from hiding out in blanket forts to holding a backyard funeral service for a beloved pet roly-poly. I hope my book, Where is Poppy? offers kids comfort, peace, and preparation for their own unique journeys with loss. I studied creative writing and political science at Stanford University and hold an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts.
This has been my go-to book for processing loss with our kiddos. It connects the human experience of death to that of animals and plants in a matter-of-fact yet deeply comforting way.
I adore the specific, clear language that doesn’t require abstract interpretation for a small child. There’s a palpable sense of peace that comes with zooming into a range of life cycles and the finality of landing with some version of, “That is the way butterflies live, and that is their lifetime.”
By staring death right in the eye (no, really…there are dead insects galore), it no longer feels so terrifying or out of reach. We all have beginnings and endings, and we are tasked with the living in between.
When the death of a relative, a friend, or a pet happens or is about to happen . . . how can we help a child to understand?
Lifetimes is a moving book for children of all ages, even parents too. It lets us explain life and death in a sensitive, caring, beautiful way. Lifetimes tells us about beginnings. And about endings. And about living in between. With large, wonderful illustrations, it tells about plants. About animals. About people. It tells that dying is as much a part of living as being born. It helps us to remember. It helps…
As an early childhood educator, I have firsthand experience with the effectiveness of picture books to stimulate the mind, open conversation, offer emotional support, and provide us all with the fundamentals of understanding ourselves and others. I have supported children and families suffering a loved one’s death by sharing picture books with them. My book, The Rag Doll Gift is based on the true story of my mother who died before giving my youngest her doll. This story was born when my daughter received her doll and said, in all her six-year-old wisdom, “Grammie is still saying” I love you” even when we can’t hear her anymore”
When I read this book with children, we are all drawn into the secure loving relationship between the granddaughter and her grandfather. Because the text is action-based, we feel like we are on each of their adventures with them.
Through the beautifully illustrated pages we walk alongside them discovering life as we witness each of them changing and growing older – until the day the granddaughter walks alone. She is sad, but Grandpa has walked with her in life. He has taught her in a very naturally occurring, organic way so that now she knows what to do. This book evokes a wide range of feelings – including empowerment from within.
This glowing picture book, by turns playful and poignant, portrays the tender relationship between a grandfather and granddaughter as they appreciate nature together over the years. They take their first walk in the woods when the little girl is barely old enough to toddle; their last when Grandfather can only shuffle along. Each walk brings a new discovery-a sneaky snake, flashing fireflies, teardrops on a spiderweb-and sometimes a lesson about saying good-bye. One day the girl walks alone, stronger because she learned from her grandfather how to be grateful for life's fleeting gifts.
As someone half-Japanese who grew up in Austria, I've spent the last few years making sense of my relationship to my mother’s homeland. My mother spoke Japanese to us children from an early age, and we spent many childhood summers with our grandparents in Okayama. Because of this, my mother's home feels intimate and familiar to me. But it is also distant and foreign, and it is precisely this unknown, the seemingly exotic and mysterious, that I hope to approach through reading. For me, Japan is a kind of poetic space I set my characters in. In my last three books Japan was both the setting and the secret protagonist.
Now, I am no friend to graphic novels. As a novelist I prefer a story told in long strokes. For Taniguchi Jiro, however, I make an exception.
When I stumbled across A Journal of My Father, I was initially skeptical. Page after page, however, with an almost cinematic panorama laid out before me, I found myself in complete awe of the fine power of observation that Taniguchi brings to the small things in life. The simple and still finds artistic expression in his work, the every day suddenly seems notable, and anyone who – like me – often finds themselves reaching for a handkerchief, consider yourself warned: this touches you, though without a show of sentimentality.
After the death of his father, a man travels to his hometown and, through various conversations and encounters, pursues memories that have stayed with him since childhood. That doesn’t sound all that exciting. But…
KNOW THY FATHER The book opens with some childhood thoughts of Yoichi Yamashita spurred by a phone call at work informing him of his father’s death. So, he journeys back to his hometown after an absence of well over a decade during which time he has not seen his father. But as the relatives gather for the funeral and the stories start to flow, Yoichi’s childhood starts to resurface. The Spring afternoons playing on the floor of his father’s barber shop, the fire that ravaged the city and his family home, his parents’ divorce and a new ‘mother’. Through confidences…
