Love Letters of the Angels of Death

by Jennifer Quist

A breathtaking literary debut, Love Letters of the Angels of Death begins as a young couple discover the remains of his mother in her mobile home. The rest of the family fall back, leaving them to reckon with the messy, unexpected death. By the time the burial is over, they understand this will always be their role: to liaise with death on behalf of people they love. They are living angels of death. All the major events in their lives - births, medical emergencies, a move to a northern boomtown, the theft of a veteran's headstone - are viewed from this ambivalent angle. In this shadowy place, their lives unfold: fleeting moments, ordinary occasions, yet on the brink of otherworldliness. In spare, heart-stopping prose, the transient joys, fears, hopes and heartbreaks of love, marriage, and parenthood are revealed through the lens of the eternal, unfolding within the course of natural life. This is a novel for everyone who has ever been happily married -- and for everyone who would like to be.

Genres: Fiction, Canada, Mormonism, Adult Fiction

176 pages, Paperback

First published August 3, 2013

About the author

Writer, researcher, critic, and lecturer, Jennifer Quist is the author of three novels: "The Apocalypse of Morgan Turner" (Spring 2018), "Sistering" (2015) which was awarded best novel of 2015 by the AML, and "Love Letters of the Angels of Death" (2013) which was long-listed for the 2015 International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award and winner of a 2014 Lieutenant Governor of Alberta Emerging Artist Award. She is also the author of the academic study Tranlingual Creative Writing Theory, Practice, and Pedagogy: Daoism and Decentering Monolingual Workshops. Since being awarded a PhD in Transnational and Comparative Literatures from the University of Alberta, she now lectures there in the department of English and Film Studies.

Reviews

[Michael Austin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Here's a confession: I am six months away from my 50th birthday, and I have never seen a dead body outside of the stage-managed reality of a funeral service. And what's more, I doubt I am all that atypical in today's developed world. For so many of us moderns, death is an alternative reality--something that happens away from us, in hospitals, and that only touches us in carefully controlled ways. And when we do encounter death, we pay a great deal of money for somebody to make it look like something else.

People like me, I suppose, are the intended audience of Jennifer Quist's remarkable debut novel, Love Letters of the Angels of Death. Can we start with that title? It is a wonderful title that captures the the strangeness, the intensity, and the life-affirming irony of the couple at the center of the action. Perhaps the only thing better than the title is the first two sentences: "It was only a matter of time before we found human remains. Maybe that's true for everyone." It is certainly true for me.

But as the title suggests, Love Letters of the Angels of Death is not as much of a death story as it is a love story. Dead bodies are just the McGuffins that propel the novel's central couple to interact with each other in clever and surprising ways. What's important is their relationship--which keeps threatening to become something abstract and intellectual until it is, repeatedly, re-centered in the material world by the necessity of finding, caring for, and managing the affairs of a close relative who has died.

The narrative itself is compelling and carefully wrought. Quist writes in the second-person, probably the most difficult narrative POV to pull off successfully. With the exception of a small-but-significant passage towards the end, the entire story is told through the perspective of the husband (Brigs, short for Brigham), as he frames a communication with his wife. The narrative is also non-linear, switching back and forth through about four different time frames in the lives of one or both of the principal characters.

The death of a close relative anchors each of the time frames, but it does not dominate them. We also see the courtship and marriage of an unlikely couple, their insecurities about their relationship, their coming to peace with each other's ways of being, and their coalescence into something like a single entity comprised equally of both parts. In other words, we watch the messy, inexact, and beautiful process of the twain becoming one flesh.

And also, one soul. Love Letters of the Angels of Death is perhaps the most religious and spiritual book I have ever read that does not mention anything about religion or spirituality. Though neither the author nor the characters ever stake out a religious position, a religious perspective pervades the work. Quist sees marriage as sacramental--something that can be consecrated, or made sacred, by association with holy things--one of which is, ironically, is death. But Quist also sees marriage as something potentially eternal--something that can transcend the cold materiality of death that informs so much of the novel's plot.

Jennifer Quist is a rare writer who can make deeply spiritual, and even dramatically sentimental points without ever becoming overbearing or maudlin. The grace of her prose and the irony of her conceits provide a lot of intellectual cover for what is really a sweet and profoundly religious love story. She can do this because she is capable of engaging our minds and our hearts at the same time, but in different ways, so that both are fully engaged and have a stake in how the novel turns out.

[Kel · Rating 5 out of 5]

In every romantic relationship there are unspoken understandings and expectations. Who will do the dishes, who will choose Christmas gifts, who will kill the spiders, who will use all the hot water. Whose heart will be the heaviest at the end.

“Even though you’re not quite a full year younger than me, neither of us doubts for an instant that you will outlive me. Maybe it’s based on nothing more intuitive than the fact that I’m the male in this marriage. But somehow, we both know that eventually you will be left alone with the two-hundred-pound unanswered question of my corpse.” (p.11)

Jennifer Quist’s “Love Letters of the Angels of Death” is (contrary to the Gothic-sounding title) a lyrical, rich love story between a husband and wife. The characters are full-blooded, incredibly vibrant and above all firmly, undeniably relatable. Nobody has piercing eyes, or heart-stopping features, this is real life. The wife is pregnant in several of the stories told, they argue, sneak kisses when the kids aren’t watching, they each have their pet peeves and morbid fascinations. What they have is each other, and an obviously deep, committed relationship which is their support and anchor through ordinary, difficult, crushingly difficult experiences.

“He can’t speak but I hear him struggling – all breath and tears – miles and miles away. And somehow, you know it all even though you can’t hear any of it. You’re leaning over me at the kitchen table while I’ve still got the phone held to my ear. Everyone knows angels lost their wings ages ago – back in the Renaissance, I’m pretty sure. We’ve outgrown the need for them ourselves and we’re each left with two arms in their place. You fold yours around my shoulders. They draw me against you. And you’re whispering my little brother’s name like a warm, wet prayer, your face pressed into the side of my neck.” (p. 55)

In our emailed interview , Quist wrote of the closeness of the relationship between the two main characters: “We talk about being “one” with our spouses but I sometimes wonder if many of us believe it’s something that can happen to us as we exist right now. I think it can happen and I was hoping to write about what that kind of unity looks and feels like using these characters. Oneness is among the deepest, most mystical aspects of our beliefs. It’s a miracle we call down on ourselves. And it eludes a mere intellectual explanation. Fiction and storytelling help say what can’t be said. Maybe that’s what ties them together — a miracle.”

Quist has a deft spin of phrase, humour and evocative imagery which lingers and chews on your imagination long after you have turned the page:

“As an adult, my brother looks like me only toasted brown and buffed up for skilled manual labour. But as the child you met that afternoon, he was all knees and elbows and no personal space at all. He darted around you like a Cupid celebrating an emerging Venus – my own mildly heat-exhausted Venus, stepping out of the car and onto the grass.” (p. 54)

Quist crafts, builds, and conveys so much in a fistful of words:

“On the other end of the phone, our Cupid is crashing in a heap of feathers and arrows.” (p. 55)

The story, characters and lushness of prose sucked me deep into “Love Letters of the Angels of Death”, and I read it all in three sittings, begrudging the time spent outside its pages. One question I couldn’t help thinking about while not reading it, was how to describe her novel to someone who would be put off by the title. Quist’s response?

“A team of us agonized over how to write the synopsis on the back cover and I don’t think I could do much better than that. I would like people to understand it’s not a self-indulgent Gothic fantasy but a love story (though not a romance). And it’s not a marriage manual either. There’s no “we interrupt this story to bring you these important messages.””

“Love Letters of the Angels of Death” is an exploration of a couple’s understandings and expectations of each other, shared beautifully – dirt, laughter, quirks, grief and all – through a series of vignettes over the course of many years. We get to learn about the characters as we learn about anyone; in bits and pieces, in jokes and family folklore, in the ordinary and unexpected, in and out of chronological order. Themes dance and rumble through the novel (such as loss, remembrance, dedication and commitment), giving a depth and permanence to the story that is surprising, wonderful and luxurious, and makes the last page difficult to turn.

Quist’s book is a finalist for this round of Whitney Awards, and it is a powerhouse all on its own. For me, “Love Letters of the Angels of Death” is already firmly ensconced as the best book I have read in the last six months, and it will take seismic activity, an alien invasion AND some master-crafted literary marvel to make me even think of beginning to change my mind. Seriously, this is a gorgeous, beautiful piece of lyrical realism.

Read it, and be changed.

Recommended to:

Anyone wanting to read a book
Anyone looking for strong, beautiful, realistic depictions of marriage, men and women
Enjoyers of gorgeous prose and imagery

Not recommended for:

Anyone uncomfortable with the inevitable death of family members
Those who like their love stories to involve phrases like “His/her eyes were stunning pools of sapphire/molten chocolate/moon dust…”

Rated: PG – themes of death and loss

[Andrew Hall · Rating 5 out of 5]

What wonderful characters, and lyrical writing. Mormonism is never explicitly mentioned in the book, but it is thick with a mature Mormon worldview and faith.

Reread, March 2023.
Again, I thoroughly enjoyed the lyrical writing and witty characters. It is one of my favorite portraits of a marriage, and she masterfully pulled off writing in the voice of a man who writes primarily about a woman. Her portrayal of the sacrifices of motherhood near the end is heartbreaking.

She structures the book as a series of vignettes (or short stories) about the couple, placed out of chronological order. She subtly introduces a series of repeating themes, featuring marriage, motherhood, death, and the body. Events happen all over Canada, and she is able to create a tangible sense of each region.

[Linda Hart · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a love story between husband and wife, their shared life together with the expectations, understandings, and unexpected surprises common in strong marital relationships. It is also a somewhat morbid yet tasteful story about death. The writing is lovely, but it is not a plot driven novel and I just didn't feel the connection.

[Wren · Rating 5 out of 5]

Some of my avid reader friends recommended this book, so I bought it. (I usually just read library books because of limited finances and limited storage space.) It took me a couple of months to pick it up from my TBR pile.

This book affected me down to the marrow of my bones. And I'll probably always carry a part of it with me, even if it's just a memory and no longer something I physically hold.

It's an excellent look at the way people try to create a line between life and death, but they constantly co-mingle. People also try to use planning, reason and science to understand death, but death triggers grief which is wild, chaotic, and emotional--no matter how much we try and try and try to type up our wishes and how much we try to contain death in a big, concrete box.

Quist's prior work as short story writer and poet are evident. Every chapter has a beautiful story arc that opens, soars and concludes on it's own. (Yet they thread together to form a larger, more complex story arc.) Her prose is lyric and full of sense imagery--smells and touch abound when many authors focus on just sight images. I was often a bit dizzy with all these gritty, animalistic, tactile-and-scent images. The prose itself comes from a place of great education and culture. Many of the sentences contain densely packed essays by themselves. It's so witty and insightful I found myself yelling aloud, "Oh, I wish I had written this novel!"

But despite the wit conveyed through the whip smart dialogue and narration, the images betray the fact that we are all animals, driven by instinct and emotion. The novel is a clever keynote speaker who has cut himself shaving and can't disguise that despite the eloquence.

I used to be an English teacher but at midlife, I am a newly minted gerontologist. I sometimes teach a university class on death and dying. I found this book to be compelling for both sides of my formal training--as a person who loves literature and a person who is trying to prepare for the increase frequency of death as I grow older (if I am fortunate enough to reach late adulthood).

I want to say that more young people need to read a novel like this with strong themes about death, dying, mortality, mutability. But then again, I think that it's very hard to face the Grim Reaper when he comes for you or anyone that you love. No one is ever ready--no matter how sick or old a person is when he or she dies. Nevertheless, it's a beautiful walk through the darker side of life, a part of life that is always with us whether or not we choose to see.

[Lloyd Mackenzie · Rating 5 out of 5]

A unique book that confronts a difficult subject with a sense of reality normally carefully sidestepped. Yet closer examination eventually awakens a deeper appreciation and acceptance of death's purpose.

Ms Quist succeeds in managing to avoid emphasis on death's grotesqueness while being cautious not to rob death of its mystery and intrigue. We are exposed to the dance commenced with death upon our initial discovery that we will eventually all be required to keep our respective appointments.

She skillfully demonstrates how it is healthier to embrace death and concede it its rightful place in marking the end of our individual earthly existence.

The book also skillfully touches upon the dilemma often encountered in respectfully handling and disposing of human remains. In this respect, it throws us an occasional unexpected curve allowing us to form our own conclusions and opinions. While some may at first be disturbed by the turn of events, I think that eventually they will come to realize that these scenes as particularly forceful in delivering a powerful message about our humanness.

It cleverly and creatively weaves a succession of incidents over the course of years shared by an endearing and especially connected loving and intimate couple. The author scores a distinct victory by managing to portray events that capture our imagination which may at times threaten to hold some emotionally hostage. But yet we don't feel victimized by the closeups but are honored by the opportunity to increase our level of understanding.

[Daniel · Rating 5 out of 5]

I literally couldn't put this one down, and ended up reading it in one sitting. There were moments which held such a personal connection that I turned the pages with gleeful delight. These were so many little things which had happened to me—learning as an adult to call a certain style of shoe "Mary Janes", experiencing the horrific wonder of personal beauty implements, even having a down-on-their-luck relative try to sell me expensive knives—that it's staggering to think another person half a continent away could so perfectly replicate my experiences. In the same hand, there were also moments of shattering heartache where I couldn't stop myself from audibly gasping at events. Although I turned the pages with equal fervour at these points, it was more from some primal urge at being confronted with my own mortality.

The book itself is almost a writhing contradiction. It's written in a hybrid of first- and second-person narration, where the narrator ("I") is telling a story about someone ("you") who I am tempted to label the co-protagonist. There's also a mental Mobius strip that arises from trying to wrap my mind around the fact that this is a woman writing as a man writing about a woman. And although death plays a very prominent role in the novel, it is equally a story about life and love.

This was a stunning debut, and one which I would recommend without reservation.

FTC Disclosure: I received a free copy from the publisher in exchange for a fair review

[Kyle · Rating 5 out of 5]

My mind, heart, and soul still haven't settled from finishing this gorgeous novel.

All summer long people asked me which has been my favorite read; I didn't have an answer. Generally, I would revert to buzzing about Educated, because I thoroughly enjoy discussing it—probably even more than I enjoyed reading it. Without a doubt, I now have a real answer to give them.

As I leisurely strolled through this novel I wondered, "Why do I love this so much?" It's difficult to describe, but I feel that Quist gave me an ephemeral touch of deep, mature love. I cared immensely for the characters, the point of view fascinated me, the prose struck resonant chords in my heart, and I wondered if I would ever have a love such as theirs.

At first, I thought the series of vignettes would be exclusively focused on death—the true final frontier. And of course, with a title such as Love Letters of the Angels of Death, death played a vital role in the lives of this couple. But as the story ripened, I realized that death was just a backdrop for the true star of the story: a beautiful and fulfilling marriage relationship.

[Cathy · Rating 3 out of 5]

I heard great things about this book but I just didn't feel the connection. It has some good moments but it was also very abstract and strange. This one just wasn't for me. I originally thought 2 stars - 3 stars might be more fair. It is interesting how you learn about a life, a marriage, a family though stories of deaths. Those are certainly defining memorable moments. But I really found parts to be almost irreverent and over the top and other sections just seemed out of place.

[Mary · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book captured me from the first chapter and didn't let go. I read it in 2 days which is unusual for me. I loved the relationship between Brigs and Carrie. It felt very real. A week later and I still find myself thinking of this story. A must-read!

[Caterina Edwards · Rating 4 out of 5]

Somehow I gave this book 3 stars when I certainly meant to give it at least 4. (Perhaps because I had read it already when I ordered the ebook.)
This is a beautiful, moving, original book. A cliche-free love story.
The book is written in the second person. The writer of the letters is addressing "you" his love. Usually it doesn't work, but in this book it does. Quist uses the second tense to draw the reader closer to all the events.

[Rebecca · Rating 3 out of 5]

Poetic writing. I struggled to reach for the book. Wonderful to read about a functional marriage and I liked how the author played with the time line of the story telling.

[Kathy Leslie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am not sure what I just read, but it was beautifully written.

[Laura Frey (Reading in Bed) · Rating 4 out of 5]

I thought this was going to be another one of those books that hits home, and it was, but not for the reasons I thought. I knew that the main character’s mother dies and that we learn about how his wife is able to support him by tuning into his needs. Quist says this of that opening scene (read the whole interview at her publisher’s web site):

"The fact is, the opening scene is based on a real experience my husband and I shared when his father died unexpectedly and alone. During that disaster, I coped with my own shock and grief by making my husband’s feelings and perceptions the only things that mattered to me. It was a desperate strategy meant to get both of us through the experience as undamaged as possible. I went back into that hyper-empathetic frame of mind to write the first chapter of the novel. I’d been there before. The rest of the book – the fiction – evolved out of that truth."

The book is not a marriage manual, though there are some great pointers. It is, of course, a story, and once I got over the second-person perspective I was immersed and not worrying about the state of my marriage. Love Letters speaks directly to my tastes in many ways – the prairie and maritime settings, the morbidity, the Catholic relics, the heroine who is most definitely a feminist and shares my incapacitating fear of bugs (if I ever see a tar sand beetle I will die.)

It spoke directly to me in other ways too. This line in particular knocked the air out of me. Brigs is speaking to Carrie in the midst of new parenthood:

"I have laid something precious on the altar of the baby too. May own sacrifice – it was you."

As a new mother, I passed the time at 2 am making inventories of all the things I gave up: sleep, sanity, body parts that didn’t leak. It takes a lot of empathy to acknowledge that your partner has given something up, too.

I relate to the morbid quality in Carrie and Brig’s marriage too. Carrie rationalizes her worrying when Brigs is late by calling it a practice run for the day he really doesn’t make it home. She, like me, assumes that she’ll be a widow at some point. That’s the thing with marriage; we pretend it’s forever when realistically, barring divorce or disaster, someone is going to die first and someone is going to end up alone. Love Letters is about how to reconcile the marriage fantasy from the reality.

Quist has been criticized for omitting kids from the picture. I admit that I felt the same way at times, though there is a notable scene where Carrie has fingernail clippings in her hair, which is pretty gross. But, again, to me this book is about a marriage, and the marriage exists outside of the kids. It’s possible to assume that the mess and monotony of parenting is there, it’s just not what Brigs is choosing to tell Carrie. And why would he have to tell her, she’s living it!

I have a feeling that some readers might struggle with the second-person narration. It took me about 20 pages to really get into a groove, and throughout I had to use a couple more brain cells that usual to remember who was talking and why. But it’s not done just for the sake of being different. When you get to the end, you’ll know why Quist chose to write it this way, and if you’re anything like me, you’ll be blown away.

Read my full review: http://reading-in-bed.com/2013/10/06/...

[Rosalyn Eves · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a gorgeously written book exploring the close (sometimes constricting) ties between two people who know and love each other intimately. This isn't a plot driven novel at all, but a character driven one, written as a series of letters (sort of) from husband to wife. (In fact, the chapters switch back and forth in terms of time so while there are clear character arcs, they're not always linear ones. To Quist's credit, I never found myself lost in terms of time or place, despite the switching). For most of the novel, we don't even know the character's names: there's just "I" (the husband) and "you" (the wife). The chapters tell a series of loosely connected vignettes, important moments in the characters' relationship (often associated with their reaction to death, as suggested by the title). Despite the occasional morbidity of the characters, this really isn't a dark novel--it's more about life and celebrating relationships than about death, though of course death sets important parameters on those relationships.

It took me a while to get into the second-person narration, but once I got past that I found myself engrossed in the story and read it in just a couple of days. It's a short novel, but a powerful one. I found myself repeatedly slowing down just to enjoy the prose. My friend Kel has a stunning review up at Segullah (This was a gorgeously written book exploring the close (sometimes constricting) ties between two people who know and love each other intimately. This isn't a plot driven novel at all, but a character driven one, written as a series of letters (sort of) from husband to wife. (In fact, the chapters switch back and forth in terms of time so while there are clear character arcs, they're not always linear ones. To Quist's credit, I never found myself lost in terms of time or place, despite the switching). For most of the novel, we don't even know the character's names: there's just "I" (the husband) and "you" (the wife). The chapters tell a series of loosely connected vignettes, important moments in the characters' relationship (often associated with their reaction to death, as suggested by the title). Despite the occasional morbidity of the characters, this really isn't a dark novel--it's more about life and celebrating relationships than about death, though of course death sets important parameters on those relationships.

It took me a while to get into the second-person narration, but once I got past that I found myself engrossed in the story and read it in just a couple of days. It's a short novel, but a powerful one. I found myself repeatedly slowing down just to enjoy the prose. My friend Kel has a stunning review up at Segullah (http://segullah.org/book-review/jenni...), that delves more deeply than I intend to into the sheer pleasure of the prose, that delves more deeply than I intend to into the sheer pleasure of the prose. My main quibble (and I admit it's a personal one) is that I didn't like the ending, though it makes sense in terms of the novel's thematic questions.

[Carrie Smith · Rating 4 out of 5]

Love Letters of the Angels of Death, is Canadian Jennifer Quist’s debut novel. It catches one off guard from the start, both in its second person style and its direct pedal-to-the-metal opening jolt of imagery. We meet the lead characters, Carrie and Brigs as they discover his dead decomposing mother in a trailer park home. There is no warm up act, the reader is made uncomfortable from the start and forced to begin dealing with death. As readers we are pulled into an extraordinarily personal conversation between the couple in this family crisis. It feels as if one shouldn’t be listening, that one is an interloper eavesdropping on an intimate dialogue between a loving man and his wife.

Carrie and Brigs are a couple that are the “ones”. Every family has them, the people that come through when crisis hits, but particularly when deaths happen, pick up the pieces and smooth the passing. They are the angels in the family, the angels of death. Death and dying are important subjects and often quickly bypassed in literature. Characters die in popular novels all the time, but writers don’t always take us to the reality of what happens next and how families cope with loss. This book is far different and takes us to new places. There is a particularly moving description of Carrie’s grandfather having a heart attack. Quist describes the moments vividly, mixing outer and inner perspective that creates a sense of slow-motion, as the heart attack is taking place. The author revels in details and turns the simple act of a man dying into complex moments that have deep insights.

The book mirrors the Canadian reality of families spread out across the country. Quist takes us from Nova Scotia to Alberta, from Maritime heritage roots to Fort McMurray’s wild-oil-west job adventure. The author links family vignettes along the passage of time that include births, marriages and death, with an over arching link of love between the couple and their family of four boys. The plot line is loose but each milestone event brings home a thoughtful viewpoint.

There is a bedrock Christian theme underpinning the novel that focuses on belief in resurrection and guiding hands. This is however not old fashioned fire and brimstone. Brigs gives us the keys to the modernity of 21st century angels as he quips that “Everyone knows angels lost their wings ages ago – back in the Renaissance” . He and Carrie repeatedly get left with the family responsibilities and we smile as he tells Carrie ” We’re great with death, death is our thing.”

Quist’s first novel is a mystery, not the whodunit style, rather a mystery of the soul, with an undercurrent of Christian beliefs, that supports the story of a couple whose relationship and life together affirm the importance of marriage and family. This could be a gateway book for important discussions on death that some families shy away from. Put it to the top of your bedside on the “next-to-read” pile and share it with your loved ones.

4 stars – literary fiction
posted on www.ebooknews.ca Aug. 26, 2013

[Sariah · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was a Christmas gift from a good friend who is a friend of the author's (not as convoluted as I made it sound...). I may be a little biased knowing this because while I don't personally know the author, she's important to someone who is important to me. Anyway...

I loved this book. Quist has such a beautiful way with words. I admit to not fully understanding everything that was going on all the time. But I enjoyed reading every minute of it. The story isn't really told in chronological order, and it's just snippets from the lives of this wonderfully in-love married couple. And it's all about death. So yes, it's kind of dark and depressing, but there is so much beauty and love written in, you don't feel depressed by it. The narration is different and really took most of the book for me to get used to. It's told in first person, but more like they are telling a story to someone of what happened to them. So it's the husband talking about the wife the entire time: "You did this... You said this... You felt this..." It was an interesting way to tell a story, that's for sure!

I'm unsure about the end. I want to re-read the book and see what else I can learn from it and see if the end makes more sense to me. As of right now, it just kind of ended and I didn't feel any kind of resolution. There wasn't any huge, driving force that moved the plot along; more like a collection of life stories.

So it really is a beautifully written story. Very clean (while never stated, I gather the couple is active LDS. There are quite a few hints thrown in there that if you're active LDS, you'll see it) and it makes you have to think just enough. I hope to read more by this author.

[Janine Fisher · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is beautifully written, with some sentences so lovely and piercing that I found myself going back immediately and reading them again. The book is not plot driven; the characters are the compelling force which keeps the reader turning pages. The protagonists, a married couple named Brigs and Carrie, are interesting and complex yet still felt completely relatable. I consider this to be a significant authorial achievement. Carrie's experiences with childbirth, motherhood, and her familial relationships struck a chord with me, but her outlook and experiences were just quirky enough that she still felt fresh as a character. I appreciated the nuanced portrait of Brigs and Carrie's marriage, and midway through the book was delighted to find that I was not in fact reading a didactic allegorical examination of life vs death, (only expected to be because of the title) but rather a beautiful love story told within a framework of experiences involving that crossing of the veil. Highly recommended to thoughtful readers and those who appreciate a less cynical form of literary realism.

[Erin · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a beautiful, morbid, unsentimental love story. I have never read anything quite like it. I loved this story of a marriage, told through vignettes that are all somehow related to death. It is real life and real marriage - no swoony story of finding each other, but the process of building a life together, filled with quirks, challenges, and the little and big moments, and coming to fully understand each other and love and respect each other for it. And the second person narration not only worked, but really was the most appropriate method of telling the story (as love letters in the situations that real love is actually built).

This is not plot driven at all, but Brigs and his wife are beautifully drawn, and her prose is elegant and perfectly suited to her story.

OK, and I will make the embarrassing confession. I actually cried a little at the end of chapter 21, and I am not a book or movie crier. And it was not a something sad happening cry, but just an emotionally resonant scene that touched on something deep in me.

Do not let the title put you off. This really is a lovely book.

[Brock Booher · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wasn't sure whether to rate this book a five or a two. Let me explain.

If you want to read a morbidly exquisite piece of literature about relationships and death, read this book. It is five stars plus a few more stars. It is extremely well-written and very poetic in places. The relationships are so real and poignant. It does not shy away from the difficult and sometimes uncomfortable themes surrounding death, but is not gory or grotesque. I don't think I have read a more beautiful treatise of death's impact on everyday life. It is such a beautiful and unique piece of literature!

If you like a plot-driven story, then this is not the story for you. It meanders quite a bit as it explores the theme, and even though the tension remains high in the prose, the story is not plot driven. It does not follow the normal three act formula that you might be used to.

Would I recommend it? YES! But make sure that you are ready for the journey. It is beautifully morbid.

So, I rated it four stars out of compromise.

[Jill · Rating 4 out of 5]

Love Letters of the Angels of Death is a literary sucker punch.

Through 200+ pages, Carrie and Briggs are a united force against the deaths that rock them throughout their lives, from Carries' grandfather's death when she was 15 to the fairly recent passing of Briggs' mother. Through these events - some tragedies, some expected, some simply accepted - you begin to chart the story of how these two people met, fell in love, and had children. You get the feeling this couple's relationship is the one thing made of rock in a transitory world, even though they spend most of the book talking about death, both their relatives and their own (eventual) ends.

I won't ruin the ending but you will be surprised at the emotional payoff, especially if, like me, you sometimes keep a little distance between you and the characters.

[Jennifer · Rating 5 out of 5]

On the shelves, this book is small. Within it's pages, it is heavy with moving prose and brilliant imagery that envelops the reader. True love does exist. I live it myself. Quist uses a series of events to weave a tale supporting the reality of a marriage with a solid foundation. There are moments of incredible joy, overwhelming sorrow and clever humor. The reader is an observer led gently through the maze of time and events surrounding Carrie and Brigs that create their story. Quist's novel is, at the most fundamental level, a story of love (although, there is plenty of death). And love this book, I certainly did! Quist is a gifted writer of true literature and I can't wait to read more!

[Robyn · Rating 5 out of 5]

At first it was hard for me to get into this story. It just begins, no preamble, no lead up and introduction of characters, nothing. But as I kept going I fell in love. It is told from a husbands point of view, all about his relationship with his wife, mostly as they deal with the typical deaths in a family (parents, grandparents). She has this low body image of her self and he is so amazingly wonderful about letting her know how beautiful she is. She loves everything about him, especially his hands. There is a twist and I didn't see it coming until just before and it left me heartbroken. I loved both characters and the style of writing. No language, some violence, kissing.

[Doriana Bisegna · Rating 5 out of 5]

Outstanding debut novel! I could not believe the talent that Jennifer Quist has for writing this beautiful, heartbreaking novel. The theme throughout is death. Death of our most loved ones is ever present in this novel. Love is another emotion that is felt throughout. Poignant, funny and memorable. I lapped up every word and was disappointed with the turning of every page...which inevitably led me to the end...an ending that I was not expecting and still have not gotten over! CANNOT wait for her her next novel, memoir, non-fiction, how to raise pigeons...I don't care...whatever she will be writing, I will be reading!

[Aneesa · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book manages to be morbid in an enchanting way. I have never read anything like it! It explores death and loss from the perspective of a married couple (written as letters between them, from what I remember) and the glimpses of REAL that you get will take your breath away. I loved it. And hated it. But then loved it again. It took me a while to finish it. When I started reading it I was pregnant and there were some triggers for infant loss that made me decide to put it down until later. When I picked it up again, I had forgotten most of it so had to start over. I'd love to hear what you think of this book--I found it fascinating.

[Kirstin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Well done for a first novel. I liked that the chapters read like small essays. I liked the tiny details of character and the mundane aspects of life. I liked the small detailed descriptions, like how Carrie's grandmother smells (page 49). I liked the thoughts on the sacrifice of becoming a mother (page 209-210).

This was NOT a book I would have picked up by choice. But I'm glad I read it. It was a beautiful love story.

[Kelsey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wow. A beautiful, strange and moving book. It's hard to talk about this book without mentioning the narration style--second person--which is a relatively rare choice. I never quite got comfortable and settled in with the second-person narration, although it's well executed and suits the story. But it's a story that keeps you from getting comfortable, too. Beautiful, strange, moving.

[Michelle · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fabulous. A unique, beautifully written love story. But not a romance. Quist uses 2nd person point-of-view and her prose is so close to poetry that even when she is giving gruesome details about morbid things the book is still uplifting. When I grow up I want to write like JQ. And have a marriage like Brigs and "you."

[Wanda · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent! It took me just a little while to get used to the voice of this book but it was perfect for her story. It made me cry at the end. Because some of her story is based on real experiences, and I know of one of those personally, it was a meaningful book. Well done Jennifer!

[Liaken · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a breathtaking series of essays! They do hold together to make a larger whole, yet each piece is so well-crafted that they can stand alone. The last part didn't work for me; it broke the flow in the wrong way. But, truly, what beautiful writing.