Smoke Gets in Your Eyes. Caitlin Doughty. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Caitlin Doughty
Издательство: Ingram
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Биографии и Мемуары
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781782111047
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      SMOKE GETS

      IN YOUR

      EYES

      &

       Other Lessonsfrom theCrematorium

      CAITLIN DOUGHTY

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      First published in Great Britain in 2015 by

      Canongate Books Ltd, 14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE

       www.canongate.tv

      This digital edition first published in 2015 by Canongate Books

      Copyright © Caitlin Doughty, 2015

      The moral right of the author has been asserted

      First published in the United States in 2015 by

      W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10110

      British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available on request from the British Library

      ISBN 978 1 78211 103 0

      eISBN 978 1 78211 104 7

      Book design by Mary Austin Speaker

      Typeset in Adobe Caslon Pro

      To my dearest friends

      So supportive, so gracious

      A morbid haiku.

      imageContentsimage

       Author’s Note

       SHAVING BYRON

       PUPPY SURPRISE

       THE THUD

       TOOTHPICKS IN JELL-O

       PUSH THE BUTTON

       PINK COCKTAIL

       DEMON BABIES

       DIRECT DISPOSAL

       UNNATURAL NATURAL

       ALAS, POOR YORICK

       EROS AND THANATOS

       BUBBLATING

       GHUSL

       SOLO WITNESS

       THE REDWOODS

       DETH SKOOL

       BODY VAN

       THE ART OF DYING

       PRODIGAL DAUGHTER

       Acknowledgements

       Notes on Sources

      imageAuthor’s Noteimage

      According to a journalist’s eyewitness account, Mata Hari, the famous exotic dancer turned World War I spy, refused to wear a blindfold when she was executed by a French firing squad in 1917.

      “Must I wear that?” asked Mata Hari, turning to her lawyer, as her eyes glimpsed the blindfold.

      “If Madame prefers not, it makes no difference,” replied the officer, hurriedly turning away.

      Mata Hari was not bound and she was not blindfolded. She stood gazing steadfastly at her executioners, when the priest, the nuns, and her lawyer stepped away from her.

      Looking mortality straight in the eye is no easy feat. To avoid the exercise, we choose to stay blindfolded, in the dark as to the realities of death and dying. But ignorance is not bliss, only a deeper kind of terror.

      We can do our best to push death to the margins, keeping corpses behind stainless-steel doors and tucking the sick and dying in hospital rooms. So masterfully do we hide death, you would almost believe we are the first generation of immortals. But we are not. We are all going to die and we know it. As the great cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker said, “The idea of death, the fear of it, haunts the human animal like nothing else.” The fear of death is why we build cathedrals, have children, declare war, and watch cat videos online at three a.m. Death drives every creative and destructive impulse we have as human beings. The closer we come to understanding it, the closer we come to understanding ourselves.

      This book is about my first six years working in the American funeral industry, but I believe you will find considerable crossover with how you handle death across the pond. For those who do not wish to read realistic depictions of death and dead bodies, you have stumbled onto the wrong book. Here is where you check the metaphorical blindfolds at the door. The stories are true and the people are real. Several names and details (but not the salacious ones, promise) have been changed to preserve the privacy of certain individuals and to protect the identities of the deceased.

      WARNING!LIMITED ACCESS AREA.CALIFORNIA CODE OFREGULATIONSTITLE 16, DIVISION 12ARTICLE 3SECTION 1221.Care and Preparation for Burial. (a) The care and preparation for burial or other disposition of all human remains shall be strictly private . . .

       —Required funeral establishment warning placard

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      SHAVING BYRON

      A girl always remembers the first corpse she shaves. It is the only event in her life more awkward than her first kiss or the loss of her virginity. The hands of time will never move quite so slowly as when you are standing over the dead body of an elderly man with a pink plastic razor in your hand.

      Under the glare of fluorescent lights, I looked down at poor, motionless Byron for what seemed like a solid ten minutes. That was his name, or so the toe tag hung