56 pages • 1-hour read
John KenneyA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of pregnancy loss, death, illness, mental illness, and suicidal ideation.
Tim Charvat drives Bud Stanley to the wake of Judy Bennett, Bud’s former mother-in-law, in his modified 1984 Mercedes with hand controls. During the drive, Bud reflects on his failed marriage to Judy’s daughter, Jen.
Years earlier, Bud met Jen on a train to New York when she spilled coffee on him. He was about to turn 38 and traveling for a job interview as an obituary writer at United World Press. They connected immediately. After moving to New York and starting his new job, Bud immersed himself in the city’s energy and began dating Jen, who worked at Sotheby’s. He proposed nine months later. When Jen announced that she was expecting, Bud embraced the idea of fatherhood, but she later experienced a pregnancy loss, and their relationship deteriorated. Jen had recently ended a relationship with a coworker—her boss—before meeting Bud, and she eventually admitted that she wasn’t truly over her ex. The marriage collapsed when she resumed her affair with this ex, Ben Finch-Atwell, which Bud discovered via an accidental text.
At the wake, Bud encounters Jen, her sister, Heather, and Ben. After an awkward exchange in which Bud deflects Jen’s questions with jokes (he claims he is in “Private equity, now […] to make a difference in people’s lives” [87]), he admits that he has been placed on leave for writing his own obituary. He steps outside the funeral home, and a woman named Clara approaches him. She reveals that she didn’t know Judy—she attends strangers’ wakes—and invites Bud to another funeral at Green-Wood Cemetery in two days’ time, calling going to funerals “the secret to life” (90).
The weather is mild the day after Judy’s wake, and Bud and Tim play catch at a Brooklyn ballfield. Tim was a skilled baseball player before his accident and enjoys the sense of normalcy that catch still provides. Bud recalls a recent conversation where Tim explained the difficulties of life using a wheelchair. Tim challenged Bud to spend a day in one to understand. The experience proved exhausting: A two-minute walk to a diner took 16 minutes, and navigating a grocery store’s narrow aisles and high shelves required specialized equipment and left Bud sore and humbled. After 90 minutes, Bud was drained.
Back at the ballfield, Tim uses his 45-year-old baseball glove and tries to teach Bud how to throw a curveball. Tim tells Bud that he’s living in “limbo”—neither fully engaged in life nor accepting death—and explains the religious concept of a space between heaven and hell requiring redemption. When Bud mentions Clara and her funeral habit, Tim jokes that Clara must have been pretty if Bud is considering the idea. However, he also cites Montaigne’s idea that practicing death is a path to freedom. He suggests that they both start attending strangers’ funerals together.
Bud and Tim attend the funeral of Dr. Samuel Gauss at Green-Wood Cemetery. Walking among the headstones, Bud observes the quiet beauty of the setting and watches mourners’ varied reactions to grief. When the priest begins the service, he mistakenly calls the deceased Walter. Mrs. Gauss, the elderly widow, loudly corrects him. When invited to speak, she denounces her late husband as unfaithful and moody and gives his casket the middle finger, prompting nervous laughter.
Clara has also attended the funeral and afterward asks Bud whether he felt anything; when he doesn’t understand, she gives him information about another wake in Brighton Beach.
Later at a coffee shop, Tim asks about Bud’s funeral preferences and shares that he wants cremation and burial in his family plot. Their conversation turns serious when Tim suggests that they need to reflect on what they’re learning from these experiences. He explains how a therapist helped him choose life after his accident and draws a parallel to Bud’s current state of disengagement. Tim observes that everyone is essentially writing their own obituary through the lives they lead.
One evening, Bud encounters his seven-year-old neighbor, Leo, and his Rottweiler, Muffin, on their stoop. Leo enjoys sitting outside counting things and recording observations in notebooks. When Leo asks if Bud is dead, Bud jokes that he’s better now.
Bud met Leo about a year earlier. Leo’s parents are successful but largely absent professionals, and he’s cared for by his nanny, Benni. Bud noticed Leo compulsively tapping stairs and learned the boy believed that it prevented meteors from hitting Earth. Leo’s therapist, Rachel, helped him gradually reduce the tapping, though he confided to Bud that he then switched to blinking 10 times instead.
When Leo asked about Bud’s therapist, Bud shared a simplified version of his divorce story. Leo listened seriously and then shifted to sharing random facts, like the age of the world’s oldest tree. As Leo was called inside by Benni, Bud noticed his secret blinking compulsion and reassured him with a wink that his secret was safe.
Bud reflects on his philosophy of obituary writing, recalling memorable stories like Tony Iarratti, a man diagnosed with AIDS at the same time his mother developed terminal cancer; he danced on his mother’s coffin to fulfill a promise they made to one another about how to honor whoever died first. He acknowledges the emotional toll of constantly interviewing grieving families.
Bud and Tim drive to Brighton Beach for Jan Kaminski’s wake. Inside the funeral home, they’re mistakenly ushered into the receiving line. Tim uses Google Translate to deliver polished Polish condolences. When Bud attempts the same phrase, he mispronounces it and inadvertently offers the family a horse, earning the nickname “the horse man” to much laughter (120).
Clara appears at the wake. She accurately assesses Bud’s lonely life and reveals that she formerly worked in finance but developed suicidal ideation, spending time at a hospital in the Berkshires. She says that she’s now trying to “change [her] narrative” (116). When Bud mentions publishing his own obituary, Clara admires the absurdity of his actions. She invites him to swim in the ocean the next morning at Jacob Riis Beach. After she leaves, Tim encourages Bud to go.
Later, as the wake winds down, Tim revisits his earlier point, asking what they are learning from these experiences. Bud grows irritable, and Tim connects the overpowering flower scent to Bud’s childhood trauma by guessing that he had a similar experience when he was 13, which prompts Bud to correct him: He was 12.
Bud arrives early at the deserted Jacob Riis Beach, initially convinced that Clara has stood him up. Tuan calls, worried that a new intern named Kyle—incompetent and using inappropriate language in the workplace—might replace Bud. Bud tells him about his strange new activities, prompting Tuan to remark, “I don’t have words for how unraveled your life has become” (131), before hanging up.
Clara arrives in her vintage truck. She warns Bud about the shock of the 40-degree water, describing potential benefits and risks, including possible heart attack. They strip to their bathing suits and run screaming into the frigid ocean.
Warming up afterward in her truck with hot tea, Clara shares trivia about caskets and coffins. When Bud asks why she attends funerals, she explains that after her mental health crisis, these experiences make her feel alive and remind her that this is it. She playfully pitches a movie concept based on his life called “Bury the Lede” (136).
Feeling unexpectedly comfortable and giddy from the cold plunge and her company, Bud opens up completely. He shares details about his job troubles, his divorce, his friends, and his mother’s death, talking more freely than he has in years.
Bud reflects on his father’s funeral four years earlier, for which he wrote a formal, impersonal obituary. He describes Gerald Stanley Sr. as a man he lived with but never truly knew—someone who preferred simple pleasures like yard work to his job as an insurance agent and seemed more interested in and proud of Bud’s older brother, Gerry.
After Bud’s mother died, his father sold their West Hartford home and moved to Delray Beach, Florida, where his personality shifted dramatically toward pursuing romantic relationships. His second wife choked to death on a peach at a grocery store. His third wife, Connie, died when her golf cart tumbled into a sand trap; his father finished his round before going to the hospital and later asked Connie’s sister on a date at the funeral.
At the Boynton Beach Fishing Pier, Bud and Gerry attempted to scatter their father’s ashes. The wind blew them back, and Gerry accidentally dropped the urn into the ocean. They laughed at the absurdity. Gerry bought beers from a fisherman, and they toasted their father. They caught up briefly; Gerry was living in Shanghai at the time but hoping to return to London, which he considered home. He encouraged Bud to find someone and have children. For a moment, the brothers reconnected as they once were.
Bud is summoned to Human Resources. In the lobby, Tuan complains about Kyle, the new intern, explaining that he called Howard harsh for threatening to fire Kyle if he refused to write an obituary for a tobacco executive on moral grounds.
At the meeting, Bud sits across from Howard, Beth Liebling from HR, and Buckley, a young HR representative who introduces himself with his pronouns, to Bud’s confusion. Beth explains that Bud’s self-published obituary triggered an automated process in the company’s system. Because the system now considers him officially dead, they cannot legally fire him—unlike a living employee, a dead one has “rights.” Howard grows increasingly frustrated with the bureaucratic absurdity while Buckley speaks in earnest corporate jargon. Beth asks Bud to sign documents declaring that he isn’t legally dead so that the system can classify him as alive again, enabling them to proceed with termination.
As Bud leaves, Howard reveals he had been trying to build a case to retain him before the obituary incident complicated everything. He tells Bud to try out being dead, admitting that he wishes he were dead to the system himself.
These chapters establish the novel’s central claim regarding Confronting Mortality to Gain an Appreciation of Life. The introduction of Clara and her practice of attending strangers’ funerals serves as a catalyst, moving Bud from a passive state of grief to an active exploration of existence. Tim solidifies this shift by framing it through an intellectual lens, citing Montaigne’s idea that “to practice death is to practice freedom” (99). The practice will eventually become an antidote to the “limbo” Tim diagnoses in Bud—a state of being neither dead nor fully alive. However, the novel eases both Bud and readers into the idea: The initial experiences at the wakes for Judy Bennett and Dr. Samuel Gauss are marked by a comedic tone of awkwardness and absurdity, such as the widow denouncing her husband as a “philandering, moody prick” (103). Still, despite their relative levity, these moments of raw, uncurated feeling serve a serious purpose. They disrupt the solemnity of the ritual, forcing Bud to witness the messy reality of how a life is remembered, in contrast to the professional distance he maintains as an obituary writer.
The narrative deepens its exploration of The Power of Storytelling to Define a Life through its accounts of the funerals Bud attends and the obituaries he has written. The priest’s failure to recall Dr. Gauss’s name holds symbolic significance. As he sheepishly explains, “I am so…I am so sorry. I’m doing another…later on…” (102). The episode highlights the danger of a one-size-fits-all approach to funerals, but also, by extension, to life; the failure of the formal ritual is juxtaposed against Mrs. Gauss’s eulogy for her husband, which captures an emotional truth about the man, however unpalatable it may be. Bud’s memory of Tony Iarratti, who danced on his mother’s coffin, reinforces this idea. Iarratti’s personal ritual, born from a private pact, created a more powerful and defining story than any formal eulogy could. These events challenge Bud’s professional approach to storytelling, which relies on facts and form, and push him toward understanding that a life’s meaning is often found in its unscripted, emotionally resonant moments. The naming of the chapters depicting funerals emphasizes this point further. Each follows the convention of an obituary headline, listing the deceased’s name and age, yet the content differs substantially from a conventional obituary in both tone and approach. This foreshadows the job Bud will eventually find writing longer-form and more personal stories about people who have passed away.
The relationship between Bud and Tim exemplifies The Search for Authentic Human Connection and continues to position Tim as a crucial guide in Bud’s emotional journey. By challenging Bud to spend a day in a wheelchair, Tim orchestrates a lesson in empathy, forcing Bud to physically experience a world of constant, draining effort. The implication is that Tim’s guidance on leading a full life is grounded in lived recognition of the difficulties of doing so. His recollection of a therapist who bluntly asked, “Do you want to live?” becomes the central question he implicitly poses to Bud (106). This question reframes Bud’s inertia as a choice. Tim’s role is therefore in large part that of a Socratic figure, using shared experiences and pointed questions to dismantle Bud’s emotional defenses and compel him to engage with the life he has been avoiding.
The author employs juxtaposition as a key structural device, contrasting moments of emotional awakening with memories of detachment. For instance, the narrative of Bud’s visceral ocean swim with Clara is immediately followed by a chapter detailing the emotionally hollow life of Bud’s father, highlighting the difference between actively engaging with life’s realities and passively existing within prescribed roles. Bud’s father, a man Bud “happened to share a house with” (140), represents a life of unexamined habit and emotional distance, culminating in an obituary that is merely a collection of facts; that his own son wrote that obituary heightens the pathos. This contrasts with the messy but authentic mourning Bud witnesses at the funerals and the burgeoning connection he feels with Clara. As much as Bud’s job structures the novel, the implication of this contrast is that a life remembered for its career achievements is far less meaningful than a life defined by its capacity for feeling.
Indeed, the bureaucratic absurdity of Bud’s professional life serves as a satirical counterpoint to his earnest search for meaning. The Human Resources meeting exemplifies corporate doublespeak, jargon, and systemic illogic. That Bud is impossible to fire while “deceased” within the automated system creates a comic paradox where Bud is, in some ways, better off dead. The symbolic implications of this mishap become clear in the dialogue throughout the meeting. For instance, Buckley, an HR representative, earnestly explains the need for Bud to sign papers declaring himself alive, stating, “We need it so that we can then feed that information into the system to make you alive again so that we can fire you” (151). This line encapsulates the dehumanizing logic of the corporate world, which has contributed to Bud’s current “deadened” state. This sterile, nonsensical environment reinforces the idea that authentic life is lived outside such rigid and impersonal structures.



Unlock all 56 pages of this Study Guide
Get in-depth, chapter-by-chapter summaries and analysis from our literary experts.