The Dead Beat: Lost Souls, Lucky Stiffs, and the Perverse Pleasures of Obituaries

Who could predict that the obituaries would become the most widely read portion of today's newspapers. Just as Mary Roach's "Stiff" explored what happens to your body after you're dead, Marilyn Johnson's "Dead Beat" opens our eyes to the written legacy that the obituarist leaves--essentially the short story of a life. There is an art to this, as revealed in some of the delightful excerpts in her book--the best obits don't just recite vital statistics, but rather spotlight the "specialness" (quirky habits, unusual talents, life-changing moments, etc) of the individual as gleaned from interviews with families and friends. I like the idea that the obit focuses the reader's attention on the life of one person, whether famous or not, and then demands an acknowledgement of the loss of that particular bundle of DNA, never to be duplicated. Full of wit and thoughtful exploration of a rarely discussed subject, this book is a real winner.

"The Dead Beat" is Marilyn Johnson's love letter to those of us who make a living writing about the dead. Although the former Life magazine writer has written obituaries for such celebrities as Katherine Hepburn, Marlon Brando and Jackie Kennedy Onassis, she penned her book from the perspective of a fan of end-of-life mini-biographies and the newspaper reporters who compose them. She examines our stories about recently deceased folks, looking for unusual facts and clever turns of phrase. She gets giddy at uncovering slices of life that are foreign to her, like the existence of polka halls of fame and the "Irish sports page" as a nickname for the obit page. She wonders what terminology to use for the various parts of an obit. Her keen observations and wonderful way with words provide images that likely will be included in the "last writes" of some obit writers she has met. She compares Larken Bradley, "who writes kindly of old hippies" - dead hippies, of course - for the weekly Point Reyes (Calif.) Light, and Caroline Richmond, "a tough-skinned Brit" who pens "prickly obits" of physicians for the British Medical Journal. She says that Catherine Dunphy of the Toronto Star "manages to make Toronto, a city I've never seen, into a place I feel I know." Her portrait of the retired Jim Nicholson, regarded as the father of "Average Joe" obits, alone is worth the price of the book. "Dead Beat" is not an anthology, like many New York Times and Daily Telegraph of London obit books. Nor is it a how-to, like "Life on the Death Beat: A Handbook for Obituary Writers." It is an easy- and pleasure-to-read look at once-in-a-lifetime stories and their composers.

Marilyn Johnson's lovely little tome on the art of the obit is sure to attract the attention of all those addicts who first open their morning paper not to the comics, the sports pages or even the horoscopes or crosswords puzzles. Members of Obit Readers Anonymous will feed on the stories of lives lived long or short, famous or not but always of curiosity and fascination. They are uniquely portrayed capsules of monumental men and women who came and conquered their corner of the world, albeit the English speaking world from which Johnson draws her material. They are the doctors and nurses, the preachers and the teachers, the politicos and the potentates, the lowly and the newly risen, the artists and the wanna-be's, the folks around the bend or down at the corner. In prose that waxes poetic, Johnson not only relates the obits but also their originators, the unsung heroes of the journalistic trade: the obituarists. Her interviews uncover secrets, foibles and passions worthy of front page coverage. Her addiction to the well-written obituary takes her across the country and oceans, through dusty paper files and on the trail of internet sources to fill us with all we ever needed to know about the fine art. Johnson examines the death writing business and soon makes it clear that the real topic is not death but life. Life lived boisterously or timidly, with sweet or ornery disposition, fitting a mold or breaking the pattern, making a mark or being marked. Finding the essential in the person is the signature of a good obituarist. Or as Johnson says: "What it takes to be a good obituary writer is an ability to write well, to capture a person with economy and grace, and work in the hurricane of emotion that swirls around the newly dead." Johnson does it all.

I used to think that funeral directors must have the best conventions but after reading Marilyn Johnson's "The Dead Beat" I'll give the nod to obituary writers. This book is terrific from beginning to end and is full of humor, and, by the way, good writing. Johnson does more than simply offer anecdotal obituaries...she comments on death and aspects relating to it. This book has a warm feel...even if her subject is one some of us tend to want to forget. To be a successful obituary writer one seems to need a knack for humor, and not "black" humor, necessarily. The author gives us her best when she does indeed share some of the contributions she has uncovered. Johnson quotes a man named Bob Schenley, who wrote an obit of a Pittsburgh Pirates broadcaster..."Almost everyone in Pittsburgh who loves baseball....loved Bob Prince, unless, of course, they actually knew him. He was a miserable mean-spirited drunk." My favorite, however, was this one written about Suzanne Kaaren, ninety-two, an actress who had appeared in several Three Stooges shorts. Penned by Stephen Miller, he said of Kaaren, "The Stooges seemed to value her opinion and regularly tried out new material on her." This kind of writing is dead-on funny. The unusual narrow shape of "The Dead Beat" gives the reader the feeling of scanning a newspaper and is another welcome addition. Johnson delivers a flow which never lets down and does not disappoint. I loved "The Dead Beat" and I highly recommend it.

This morning I read the obituaries in the newspaper. These have never been a part of my daily reading - at least not until I read Marilyn Johnson's "The Dead Beat." It's a funny and touching book that led me to discover an unsung yet immensely popular literary form to which I had never before given a second glance. This book isn't about the paid obituaries by friends and relatives of the deceased. It's about the life (and death) stories written by newspaper staff writers. They are tributes to celebrities, ordinary folks, and those who had a peripheral role in a historic or social context of their day. Besides presenting the story of a life, they are history as it is happening. The author shares her enthusiasm for both reading and writing obituaries. She covers the history and evolution of the obituary format and content. She describes the obit fanatics who attend the Great Obituary Writers' Conference and who haunt Internet web sites, exchanging the latest gems they have unearthed from newspapers around the globe. She interviews obit writers and editors, and compares and contrasts the writing styles of various newspapers, especially between the American and British. She includes selections from obituaries that sparkle with wit and resonate with the essence of lives lost; they are poetry, folk art, gossip, and short story rolled into one. Allow me to leave you with this example from the book, one which demonstrates that obits can be humorous: "Selma Koch, a Manhattan store owner who earned a national reputation by helping women find the right bra size, mostly through a discerning glance and never with a tape measure, died Thursday at Mount Sinai Medical Center. She was 95 and a 34B." If this fascinating book about an unusual subject doesn't convert you into an obituary reader, then nothing will! Eileen Rieback