It’s been a while since I’ve talked about a non-fiction book, and admittedly, it’s because little has struck my interest lately. I’m not a huge memoir reader, and I’m not a reader of celebrity biographies, and it seems to me that’s where a lot of the push has been lately. I’ve found fewer of the sorts of things that work well for me. But when I stumbled upon Sarah Murray’s Making an Exit, I knew I stumbled upon something that was right up my alley.

Murray’s book is an exploration of a topic most people don’t like to talk about: death. But it’s not a grim book by any means. Rather, it’s a book about the different means of celebrating or mourning the deceased that span the globe. This aspect of the book is paired with a small narrative thread that talks through the experience of Murray losing her father. Her father — who she refers to only as Fa throughout — was not a religious man, and he believed heavily in the idea that the physical body was merely “organic manner,” an idea that emerges over and over throughout the book. So for Murray, the burial aspect of his death is really quite absent, and it’s the precise reason she finds herself curious how other cultures approach grief and loss.

The two lines of the book don’t get overwhelming, and more specifically, the secondary thread about the loss of Fa is small enough that it never detracts from the greater purpose of Murray’s book. It’s rather a means of comparison and discussion, and it works as breathing room after reading about some of the heavier methods other cultures have in burial rituals. Moreover, what works so well in this book is that the chapters are not dependent upon one another, and I bring this up because it’s an important reason why this book worked for me — I love non-fiction, but sometimes, I am not always interested in the entire book. If I can skip around and not feel I’m missing out, it gives the book that much more power. That’s not to say there’s not merit in non-fiction that builds upon itself, but rather to say, a book like this one is strong because it doesn’t employ that tactic. Reading this never felt like work. Though this isn’t a fast paced book by any means, the set up permits readers to go at it leisurely. It’s the kind of book you can pick up and put down for periods of time without missing out on anything.

Perhaps most importantly, this book is never morbid. Where it could have tread that world, it didn’t. Murray skillfully explores without exploiting either the topic nor the reader.

The more interesting rituals I found included, first and foremost, the tradition in Ghana for the dead to be buried in elaborate coffins. That means instead of thinking about death like we do in America, which involves somewhat stuffy and standard coffins, Ghana tradition allows people to decide what sort of bright, elaborate or symbolic coffin they’d like to be buried in. We’re shown this in a picture at the start of the chapter, where there is a coffin made in the shape of an airplane. Murray commissions one of the top coffin makers in the country to build her a coffin in the shape of the Empire State Building. While she muses about how many could think this a strange piece of furniture to store in her living room in New York, she offers a lot of interesting insight into the idea that Ghanaians are celebrating life in death through these cheerful caskets.

Easily, the most engaging chapter for me was the one set in the Czech Republic and looked at the tradition of the ossuary. If that’s an unfamiliar term, I suppose the image might be helpful a bit — an ossuary is a cathedral of bones. The idea has always fascinated me, but I’ve never quite thought about why these things exist. Murray though has, and it turns out these were developed out of necessity of space. Centuries ago, space in burial grounds was at a premium, and rather than bury the dead as whole, it made more sense for bodies to be separated bone from flesh. The decomposition of flesh is quicker than bone, and it was easier to bury flesh, as it’s smaller than bone. The bones were put into these “cathedrals,” and the reason sometimes they’re not whole but instead are in interesting or unique displays had to do with the person in charge. It makes sense that when you’re surrounded by death, sometimes you have to have a sense of humor, right? I could have easily read an entire book on this topic because Murray approached it in such an engaging manner.

Other chapters that stuck out to me included the one about Mexico’s Day of the Dead — perhaps what struck me most about this was less the topic at hand and more the complete fascination with which Murray approaches it. I’m quite familiar with the rituals of this day, but Murray herself was unfamiliar, and the curiosity in her writing and exploration was simply fun to read. There is a respect in her tone that resonated with me as a reader, and it strengthened my trust in everything she was doing. This is the sort of experience I desire when reading a non-fiction book because it’s key to what makes the book work. If I don’t trust the authority, I can’t trust the book. Reading Making an Exit reminded me a lot of my experience in reading Eric Weiner’s The Geography of Bliss — there is a balance of respect and curiosity in the topic, and never once does the reader feel cheated or belittled in the process. These two books have an interesting conversation with one another, as both explore a heavy topic through a cross-cultural lens.

My only complaint about the book is the photography: there are black and white photos that open each chapter, and they relate to something of the ritual in the country in which the chapter’s set. However, the photos are small and only in black and white, and I found them to sort of be a lost opportunity, especially in the chapter about Ghana. I would have loved seeing the full color image, and more photos throughout would have made this book just that much stronger.

Hand this book off to readers of non-fiction, those interested in other cultures, and those who love reading about social rituals. As I mentioned earlier, it’s not at all a morbid book, despite the topic at hand, and I would have no problem handing this off to teen readers of non-fiction, even though it’s technically an adult non-fiction publication. It’s the kind of book I would have devoured in my teens, and because of the set up, it keeps the readers interested by allowing them to cherry pick what they want to read (and also has a payoff for those who read cover to cover).

Making an Exit is available now. Review copy received from the publisher.