This book is a kind of prayer for her mother — an act of mourning and remembrance, a purposeful act of grieving. . . . Danticat writes beautifully about fellow writers, dissecting their magic and technique with a reader’s passion and a craftsman’s appraising eye. . . . As a grieving daughter, she wants to understand how others have grappled with this essential fact of human existence; and as a writer — a ‘sentence-maker,’ in the words of a DeLillo character — she wants to learn how to use language to try to express the inexpressible, to use her art to mourn.”—The New York Times
“Danticat taps into such tough subject matter . . . with a trickless, spellbinding clarity. . . . This small book is a bracingly clear-eyed take on its subject.”—The Boston Globe
“Danticat’s is a memoir written in a manner akin to the circular, overlapping and overwhelming processes of grief and mourning; she layers her story with other poems, memoirs, novels and essays about death, scaling the personal to wider-ranging political and ecological catastrophes. . . . Deeply felt.”—Los Angeles Times
“The Art of Death offers an inspired syllabus of Danticat’s own design. . . . What’s important about reading great writing about death — or in the case of The Art of Death, reading about reading about it — is that it teaches us how to live. Rather than shy away from these books, we should turn to them in all seasons.”—Chicago Tribune
“There is, after all, no more universal experience for humans, other than birth, and that is, in some ways, what this beautiful book feels like; it is an offering, almost, a renewal about the ways in which we think about the unthinkable, force ourselves to confront the dark in order to live with light in our lives. It is elegant and thoughtful, and a fascinating meditation on the thing that brings us together.”—Nylon
“It’s unusual for a craft book to make such an emotional impact, but The Art of Death shows readers—through the words of others and through Danticat’s own—how it’s done.”—Star Tribune (Minneapolis)
“In The Art of Death, Danticat writes clearly and judiciously about a subject that is challenging for both writers and people to face directly. Her range and grasp of literary references is wide and powerful.”—Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
“Consider [The Art of Death] a master class in literature and a guidebook for the most universal human experience.”—BUST Magazine
“A haunting heart-breaking book that illuminates the artfulness in writing about death as well as Danticat’s own genius at conjuring up powerful emotions.”—Literary Hub
“A portrait of the emotional toll of death as well as a cathartic guide to finding peace.”—Ryan Strong, The Paris Review Staff Picks
“The Art of Death, much like the author’s prayer, feels like an offering, a study born of devotion. Part essay, part memoir, part elegy, the book has numerous obsessions — lingual, mortal, and parental — that come together to compelling effect. Danticat — who has published novels, short story collections, a memoir, a children’s book, and a volume of poetry — combines these forms fluidly, in a meditation as instructive as it is moving.”—Los Angeles Review of Books
“Remarkably rich. . . . This is a volume that respectfully and brilliantly draws in astute observations about scores of great writers and their relationship with death. More important, the skill and tact [Danticat] employs in bringing outside texts into her narrative should be a required roadmap that will reward inquisitive readers for years to come.”—PopMatters
“For a subject that’s so daunting to tackle, Danticat manages to distill death down to its core elements. . . . The penultimate section of The Art of Death culminates with a prayer. . . [that] manages to accomplish everything Danticat does throughout The Art of Death: leave you wanting more, while knowing in your heart that what you were given was just enough.”—Miami Rail
“Danticat’s literary reach is impressive—especially so in a book that spans fewer than 200 pages. . . . The Art of Death overflows with life, quietly but insistently inspiring anyone reading it to make good use of what remains of that precious gift.”—Shelf Awareness
“The Art of Death is a rare blend of criticism and memoir, and it reaches a breathtakingly touching conclusion in the last chapter.”—Garrand Conley, Slice Magazine
“Danticat’s latest book articulates with fervent heart what we often cannot when faced with loss.”—Dianca Potts
“The author lends a deeply personal touch to this study. . . . Danticat takes on an unpleasant topic with sensitivity and passion.”—Kirkus Reviews, starred review
“In a series of linked essays on overlapping topics such as suicide, close calls, and how we relate to catastrophic events, she both shows how great writers make death meaningful, and explores her own raw grief over her mother’s death. This slim volume wraps literary criticism, philosophy, and memoir into a gracefully circling whole, echoing the nature of grief as ‘circles and circles of sorrow.’”—Publishers Weekly
★ 06/01/2017
Danticat (Claire of the Sea Light) explores the various faces of death, filtered through her writing, life, and literature. Most valuable is the chronicle of her mother's final days after declining further chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. Unflinching reflections on those wanting to die, the death-row condemned, and survivors of close calls resonate with the spiritual desolation afflicting individuals and countries after large-scale catastrophes such as 9/11, and the author's lacerating experience losing relatives in the 2010 Haiti earthquake. The root of all sorrows, arguably the source of religion, atheism, politics, and war, might be our chronic awareness that life comes with an expiration date. Danticat quotes Toni Morrison's Sula (1973), particularly the suicidal character Shadrack's conceit that life might be accidental "but death was deliberate." Gabriel García Márquez's iconic One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967), perhaps more than any novel, mines death's absurdity, blessing, wonder, and horror born from experience. In an increasingly secular world, the author infers, the measure of our lives might be found in love and language. VERDICT From "The Art of" series, this emotional, brave work interrogates and bears witness to the ultimate unknown. Will appeal to readers looking for warmth and insight—whatever their personal circumstance. [See Prepub Alert, 2/6/17.]—William Grabowski, McMechen, WV
★ 2017-05-16
A guide to writing—and reading—about death.National Book Critics Circle Award winner Danticat (Claire of the Sea Light, 2013, etc.) adds to "The Art of" series with this work on how writers approach the topics of death and dying. Though the book is slim, it is overarching and broad in scope. Drawing on an array of writers, Danticat presents a wide range of approaches to death, including her own. Having written extensively about her mother's death, for which she was present, the author lends a deeply personal touch to this study. She truly finds her stride after first surrounding readers with the almost impossible depth of her topic. Though not tied to a structure, Danticat explores the varieties of death and how each one is approached by writers. Suicide, execution, natural death, and accidental death all receive attention. Collective deaths also play a role, especially 9/11 and the Haitian earthquake of 2010. The author also examines suicide through the works of writers as diverse as Tolstoy, Faulkner, Albert Camus, Dylan Thomas, Zora Neale Hurston, Christopher Hitchens, and Toni Morrison. For executions, she shares the wisdom of Mumia Abu-Jamal, a death row inmate. Regarding death as an all-encompassing end to life, she smartly draws from Gabriel García Márquez. Most movingly, Danticat brings her audience into the very private realm of her own mother's death from cancer. She writes of the tests, the diagnosis, the decline, and the final hours and moments as her mother slipped away. Though faith and fear both come up in this book, they are not highlighted. This work is more about how death is described in literature, and the author asks if we really can describe it adequately at all. Danticat takes on an unpleasant topic with sensitivity and passion.
