What the Living Do

by Susan E. Wadds

Sex and death consume much of thirty-seven-year-old Brett Catlin’ s life. Cole, ten years her junior, takes care of the former while her job disposing of roadkill addresses the latter. A cancer diagnosis causes her to question her worth, suspecting the illness is payback for the deaths of her father and sister. Thus begins a challenging journey of alternative healing that she doubts she deserves. Just as Brett surrenders to the prescribed cure, a startling discovery sends her on a more profound exploration of cause and effect. Encounters with animals, both living and dead, help her answer the who is worth saving?

Genres: Fiction, Canada

236 pages, Paperback

Published March 19, 2024

About the author

Susan Wadds’ debut novel, “What the Living Do,” won the 2024 Canadian Book Club Award for fiction, was a 2024 Indies finalist, and shortlisted for the 2024 Fred Kerner Book Award. In 2016, her short fiction won the Writers Union of Canada’s Prose Contest. Susan’s work has appeared in various publications, including carteblanche, The Blood Pudding, Room, and Waterwheel Review. A graduate of the Humber School for Writers and a proud member of The Writers Union of Canada and The Canadian Authors Association, Susan is a certified Amherst Writers and Artists (AWA) workshop facilitator. She grew up in Montreal, Toronto, and London Ontario, and has lived in British Columbia, India, France, and Italy. She’s sort of settled down and currently lives on a quiet river on Williams Treaty land in traditional Anishinaabe territory with an odd assortment of humans and cats.

Reviews

[Martie Nees Record · Rating 4 out of 5]

Genre: Fiction
Publisher: Regal House
Pub. Date: March 19, 2024

In the novel, “What the Living Do,” our protagonist is Brett, a 37-year-old woman dealing with traumatic childhood experiences that shaped her self-destructive personality. Brett uses sexual encounters to ward off her inner demons. With open eyes, she has put herself in unhealthy relationships, creating a repeating cycle of abuse. This changes when she falls in love with a younger man, Cole. He loves her, is supportive, and in no way is abusive. I felt relief that she was now in a healthier relationship. Still, Brett refuses to marry him. When he talks about them having a baby, she panics because she fears becoming a mother. It is evident to Cole that she uses sex to avoid any serious talk about their future together. Susan E. Wadds’s novel explores childhood sexual abuse and sex addiction, as well as motherhood, spirituality, intimacy, and illness. She manages to weave the different themes together with ease.

Brett and her work partner, Mel, are in road maintenance. Mel drives the truck as she removes dead animals from the roads. In other words, Brett is a roadkill collector. Brett’s job prevented me from imagining this would be an enjoyable read. Despite my original thoughts, I found the story engaging. The author’s fine writing creates a sweet story rather than a difficult one. Among the most touching scenes in the novel are those that show Brett’s tenderness while handling roadkill. She is horrified to find a dead rabbit missing its foot. She despises cruelty to animals. Despite Brett’s intimacy problems with Cole, the author shows how she can connect with animals even if they are dead.

Mel is a mysterious and spiritual person who prays in an unknown language. He begins to give Brett prayers to repeat after she discovers she has cancer. She feels that the disease is punishment since she blames herself for the deaths of her father and sister even though, at that time, she was only a child. A crippling sense of survivor’s guilt plagues Brett throughout the story. Here, the author breaks your heart with dialogue that feels so real that I teared up. Even with all of Brett’s unlikable characteristics, Wadds manages to make her endearing to the reader. It is easy to empathize with her, especially as she wrestles with becoming a better person. I can see some parts of me in Brett, which makes me wonder if the book’s title references real-life living people, not just our fictional heroine. I found the story to be compassionate and emotionally moving. I recommend reading “What the Living Do.”

I received this novel at no cost from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

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[Cheryl · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm not going to bother outlining the plot here because so many other reviews have already done so. Also, you could read the book blurb.
This was a disturbing, haunting book for me. That's not a bad thing (obviously, when I gave it 5 stars). It took me four months to be able to write the review. That's how long the story and the protagonist, Brett, have sat with me, whispering in my ear, pressing on my heart. The protagonist is lost, she's looking for her way--out or in, she's never consistent. She wants to move through guilt, but is afraid to face it. She needs to move through abuse, but cannot see it to understand it. She needs a way forward, but keeps going backwards. She frustrated me when she kept making bad decisions, then trying to turn around and make good ones overtop of the bad ones, thinking the good will wipe out the bad, when all it does is muddy everything. This protagonist made me so uncomfortable because she felt so real, she felt like me, like a mirror into my past. Though we don't share the same circumstances or challenges, I understood her behaviour, the reactions to her challenges, how she pushes others away when what she really wants is to hold them tight, how she latches onto the wrong people because they don't force her to reconcile her beliefs with reality and grow up.
In so much fiction, the protagonist feels linear, even with all the plot twists. Writers are taught, 'what does the protagonist want?' and to further that with every decision, every scene. This character had more guts and realness than that. She does things that make the reader (me, in this scenario) groan in frustration. In the end, she makes either the best or the worst decision she could make, depending on your interpretation, but at least she has finally stepped up to the plate and joined the world of adulting with eyes more open than shut.
I suspect What the Living Do will join my little pile of 'to be re-read' books and I'll pick it up every couple of years. There are layers and I suspect this is a book that will change on each reading, touch a different part of me each time I pick it up.
I'm hoping for more from this author.

[Davina · Rating 4 out of 5]

What the Living do by Susan E Wadds invites readers into a poignant journey alongside Brett as she confronts her past while battling cancer. As we delve into Brett's world, I found myself captivated by the depth of her character and the steady growth she undergoes throughout the story. Susan skillfully guides us through Brett's struggles and triumphs, making her journey feel both personal and universal.


One of the book's standout elements is the portrayal of Brett's character. She's truly unique, and I appreciated witnessing her evolution as she grapples with her demons and embraces healing. Cole's unwavering loyalty adds another layer of depth to the narrative, showcasing the power of genuine connection amidst adversity.


Susan weaves symbolism and thematic elements throughout the story, particularly in the way Brett confronts her past through literature. The nods to Canadian culture, from mentions of beloved bands like Marianas Trench to subtle references like snowplows and maple leaves, added an extra layer of authenticity to the narrative.


However, I did find myself occasionally disoriented by abrupt transitions between settings. While this didn't detract significantly from my enjoyment of the story, smoother transitions would have enhanced the overall reading experience.


In summary, What the Living do is a moving exploration of resilience, love, and the power of confronting one's past.

[Ron Potter · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was undone and done up by this story. The writing is beautiful and I was in no hurry to rush the pages; instead I stayed close to the words, following the rhythm and the way the story is told. And the story is authentic, taking me on an emotional journey, a baptism of water, blood and foul brackish sluice. But I was never dismayed for the genuine human spirit is at work. The weaving of the indigenous themes was true to the spirit and very warm to the soul.
I read a lot of books and this is the best I have read in a very long time. I admire the author’s dedication to the novel; it is evident how she cared for the people she created. And as a result, I also cared for them and deeply.

[Translator Monkey · Rating 5 out of 5]

I absolutely loved this book. Every character, good and/or bad, brings a lot to the table. Review to come; gotta sit on this for a day.

Two days later...

I owe myself and everyone else at least an attempt at a review. The story is told from the point of view of 37-year-old Brett Catlin, a road maintenance worker doing everything from scraping up roadkill to running a snowplow, often with her quiet but still-waters-run-deep indigenous workmate Mel. She's got a catty friend Norah, a much-younger-but-who-cares-about-that live-in boyfriend Cole, and a handful of secrets that she carries like way too heavy luggage. Secrets that involve the fire that took the lives of her little sister and father, a fire that has pushed her away from her mother, or perhaps the other way around. And secrets involving a cousin that most would consider creepy, but in her own mind, Brett does not.

Starter pack: Cole is interested in making a family. Norah is trying, with her husband, to have a baby. But Brett sees what they can't, that this is no world for children. Needless to say, this brings challenges to the relationships.

Brett clearly has communication issues, but without knowing her backstory as context, it would be easy for the people in her life to consider her vacant at best, or immature and callous at worst. But the underlying current suggests that Brett knows that saying anything of her feelings out loud would open a floodgate that could destroy relationships, if not lives, including (possibly) her own. Instead of speaking the whole truth, Brett releases tiny leaks of information, keeping the rest (and her full emotional scope) walled up.

Then there's the cancer diagnosis. Did I mention that?

This is an excellent book of the power of communication on ourselves and those around us, and the impact on our extended friends and family. There's a lot to love about this book.

I loved Brett's interaction with Mel, whom I picture as some sort of a gentle giant, only made mysterious because of his ability to convey his thoughts with as few words as possible. I also loved the interplay between the three main characters of Brett, Cole, and Norah, but to be honest, I think Norah isn't the best sort of person you'd want as a bestie. But I'm not Brett, and their yin/yang characterizations might be what keeps them not only at odds, but close.

Themes of motherhood, sexual abuse involving a minor, poor choices under the influence of alcohol, and the mental anguish that thoughts of abortion and miscarriage brings, are all here. Proceed with absolute caution if these might carry triggers for you.

Huge old shout out to the author, the publisher, and Edelweiss for providing me with a digital ARC in exchange for this honest review.

[Rebecca Jebson - Taylor]

I don't feel that I can rate this book, because I would give it 4 or 5 stars but the amount of trauma in this book...just doesn't feel right. The writing is stunning, the characters frustrating and beautiful.

Trigger warnings would include cancer, abortion, miscarriage, abuse, sexual abuse and incest involving minors, death of animals/roadkill, death of immediate family members, house fire...I'm sure I'm missing some.

[Madi (whatsmadireading) · Rating 3 out of 5]

The rapidly growing cancer cells have built up inside of Brett, like her childhood trauma, pushing her to decide when, or if, she will choose to love herself and let others love her.

3 ⭐️

This book is packed with symbolism of her childhood secrets that influenced Brett’s distant personality and the cancer she’s reluctant to let go of.

For such a heartbreaking premise, the writing kept me emotionally detached from the main character. This makes sense, being that it’s one of the main purposes of the book, but it made for a long and slow read.

I haven’t read a women’s fiction with quite this tone before. It’s dark and becomes more and more disturbing as you read it. The only book I can think to compare it to is The Paper Palace.

[K.R. Wilson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brett—stalled in Barrie, Ontario on her tentative way toward whatever the rest of her life might be—keeps her head down and her shoulders taut, clearing brush and dead animals from rural roadsides and relieving her stresses with her much younger musician boyfriend. Then one day there’s bleeding.

Susan Wadds’ novel What the Living Do tracks Brett’s life as she wrestles with an unexpected diagnosis, an unsettling past, and an uncertain future. Its stunningly good prose embeds us in Brett’s sensory world (her doctor “wiggles his fingers into blue stretchy gloves and lets the cuffs snap”) and in the fraught dynamics of her relationships. It’s a book to savour for its language and to remember for the raw, flawed humanity of its characters.

[Leanne ODowd · Rating 4 out of 5]

⭐ 3.75

Not exactly the best choice for a holiday read — I knew going in that it wouldn’t be light, but I didn’t anticipate just how heavy this would make me feel. 


The story deals with a lot of trauma and difficult, often frustrating conversations. Not a breezy read, but definitely one that held my attention until the very end.

[Reader Views · Rating 5 out of 5]

Susan E. Wadds creates a compelling work focused on grief, healing, and self-worth in “What the Living Do.” The novel follows Brett Catlin, a 37-year-old woman who has experienced a lot of trauma, heartache, and loss throughout her life. Still guilty over the loss of her sister and father in her childhood, Brett has also suffered at the hands of her cousin who sexually abused her. She’s experienced toxic relationships and recently received a cancer diagnosis. To cope with it all, Brett finds solace through other people but cannot open herself up to more hurt. Wadds excels most at writing compelling characters. She explores trauma, resilience, and redemption.

Brett is a complex character to follow, and readers will find a lot to relate to in her struggles with grief, guilt, and self-isolation. She comes off as a real and flawed character but is nonetheless endearing. Cole and Norah also stand out as compelling characters. Cole provides a tender, soft space. I enjoy reading male characters who can be vulnerable and kind without struggling with it.

Norah is another character exploring her own grief and frustrations, showing how powerful and enriching friendships can be in the face of loss and pain. She and Brett are a fantastic exploration of female friendships. Through her characters, Wadds studies the complexity of human connection, forgiveness, and despair. For readers who enjoy character-driven storytelling, they will find a new favorite in “What the Living Do.”

While the character-focused narrative is a strength of this novel it can feel limiting at times, especially for readers who enjoy a faster-moving plot. Brett’s internal monologue does slow down the pacing and plot and is heavily introspective. It can occasionally feel repetitive, but in a way, this is a perfect reflection of how we process grief. Healing is never linear, and Brett’s cyclical thinking, while repetitive, feels realistic as well.

Susan E. Wadds’ ability to portray trauma, love, and healing in such a realistic way is fantastic, and her prose really heightens the story she is telling in “What the Living Do.” Introspective readers will find a new favorite here, and perhaps others will see a lot of themselves in Brett as well.

[Literary Reviewer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Susan Wadds’ debut novel, What the Living Do, is a haunting exploration of Brett Catlin’s life—a woman grappling with the echoes of her traumatic past, a devastating cancer diagnosis, and the delicate balance between self-destruction and survival. Through Brett’s introspective journey, Wadds crafts a story that is both raw and beautifully poetic as Brett navigates her relationships and the fragmented pieces of her past to find healing.

Wadds has a way of weaving words that feel like they’re sinking straight into your bones. Early on, Brett’s job handling roadkill becomes a visceral metaphor for her internal state. I couldn’t shake the image of her burying a young dog in the hard-packed dirt, her thoughts unraveling like the rib bone poking through the carcass. These moments, uncomfortable yet profound, bring Brett’s pain and search for meaning to life.

Wadds isn’t afraid to show us the beauty and brutality of survival. Her conversations with Mel, who teaches her to pray for animals rather than to them, are some of the most grounding moments in the story. These exchanges are a quiet counterpoint to the chaos of her dynamic with Cole, her younger lover. The contrast between Mel’s stoic spirituality and Cole’s boyish longing for stability highlights Brett’s own turmoil. I also appreciated Wadds’ portrayal of Brett’s past trauma and how it reverberates into her present.

The novel doesn’t shy away from difficult topics—childhood abuse, survivor’s guilt, and the weight of familial expectations. Yet, Wadds handles these with sensitivity and grace. The recurring motifs of fire, ash, and the lingering scent of smoke are haunting reminders of Brett’s unresolved grief. They mirror her struggle to reconcile the ghosts of her family and her own self-worth.

Wadds writes with a compassion and honesty that is rare and deeply moving. What the Living Do is perfect for anyone who isn’t afraid to confront the messiness of life, grief, and the hope of healing. Fans of literary fiction with emotional depth will find much to admire in Brett’s journey.

[Anastasya Smith · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book needs a MASSIVE trigger warning. Child sexual abuse and INCEST in three different forms! It got dark and terrifying near the end that I read past 90% of the text just to see if the final child at risk was protected. Prob why I didn’t give it a rating of 4. I had a bloody nightmare that shook me to my core after reading the ending of this book..

This felt like a gender flip with the female character being 6 years into a relationship in her 30s with a much younger man and not sure she wants to commit. It’s infuriating even when the script is flipped! Her thoughts even “sound masculine” because of the masculine association with running away from problems and suppressing feelings or refusing to seek or accept help. Half the time I wondered if she even saw her romantic partner as a human being or just as a fulfiller of her desires, so the minute he asks for reciprocation or something that benefits him, she backs far away and imagines just leaving to Bali. The writer does a good job of capturing this torture of the avoidantly attached, resurfacing-resuppressing trauma, frustrating and fraught communication and inability to share the truth of abuse.

Pros: a female character in a non-traditional job and a younger male love interest who is the committed one.

Cons: it’s dark. The characters are bloody frustrating, but that was intentional.

[Heather · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brett is 37, working for the city maintenance department and dating a man ten years younger. Her father and younger sister died tragically when she was ten and her mother was emotionally absent from her life after that. She uses sex to distract from any and all conflict, has one foot perpetually out the door, and pushes away anyone who tries to get close. After a shocking diagnosis, Brett begins to question if this is really how she wants to spend the rest of her days.

Brett is a bit of a mess. But she's achingly human, and damaged and fighting hard to find her way out of the deep dark of the life she's settled into.

What the Living Do is a beautifully written debut novel of immense childhood traumas and lingering hurts, self-determination, reproductive rights, and internalized beliefs. It doesn't shy away from secrets and dark thoughts, but it is full of hope and growth and learning to trust that we are, without conditions, both lovable and deserving of love.

Trigger warnings miscarriage, animal deaths, childhood sexual assault

Thank you to Susan Wadds and the publisher for a copy of the novel for review. I'm grateful to have it on my shelves.

[Matthew · Rating 5 out of 5]

What the Living Do by Susan Wadds is a compelling look at how we can think being ill is a moral failing. The main character, Brett, thinks her illness is a result of her failures as a person, and she agonizes over the deaths of her father and sister, thinking they were her fault—and her illness is her fault by extension.

She also dates a younger man so she can maintain the illusion of control. All this to protect herself.

There are other undercurrents in this novel, including women’s reproductive rights. Wadds also takes a critical look at Indigenous romanticism. (There’s a part where Brett ascribes her Indigenous coworker a mystical knowledge when the coworker is merely giving general, common knowledge advice. It’s uncomfortable to read. It’s also clear Wadds is interrogating this tendency, though, and not playing into it, because Brett is so obviously misreading the situation.)

I enjoyed the book. It gave me lots to think about, from perspectives I’d never considered and was well written.

[Laurie Burns · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5
This is about a woman named Brett, 37 years old, carrying around shrouds of guilt, death, and terrible feelings.
So trigger warnings, there is some hard stuff in here.

Brett is working road maintenance with her treasured Ojibwe co-worker, driving around picking up road kill and carrying large amount of survivor's guilt. Oh and stringing along her 11 years younger than her boyfriend, who she struggles to really let in.
This writing had excellent prose, and is very sensory, emerging you in Brett's world.
Often Brett really frustrates me with the way she acts, but eventually you come to learn to reasons she is acting so horrible.
Overall the writing is sharp and very observant but the story is dark and frustrating.

[Maya · Rating 5 out of 5]

It is a raw and sore story about a 37-year-old self-destructive woman named Brett. Her traumatic past made her lose confidence and be unable to think seriously about her relationship with her boyfriend (super nice person!) or even about her illness.

The theme is quite heavy, but full of compassion and even hope at the end. Honestly, I'm sometimes irritated with Brett, but at the same time, I really like her and accept her flaws.

Trigger warnings: miscarriage, abortion, cervical cancer, child sexual abuse, death of relatives

[Kerry Craven · Rating 5 out of 5]

Full disclosure that although I don't know her well, I've written with Susan Wadds, and probably would not have picked up this book otherwise, but I'm so glad I did. This is an absolutely stunning novel. I read Margaret Laurence's The Diviners earlier this year, and What the Living Do captures the same sense of the beauty in sorrow that I find so incredibly magical. The characters are well-developed, and the complexity of the main character as she wades through the layers of trauma feels relatable. The writing sparkles.
A modern classic.

[Bernard Dichek · Rating 5 out of 5]

A refreshing, stimulating portrait of a woman's struggle to find peace with her past. Some of the contents are difficult, but I identified with the protagonist's efforts to leave her comfort zone and make uncomfortable decisions. A page-hugging and page-turning read, made me linger over the poetic descriptions, while the twists and turns kept me on edge. I enjoyed the Canadiana atmosphere, insights into indigenous culture and topsy turvy male-female relationships.

[Anna Vogt · Rating 5 out of 5]

After finishing this novel, I still find myself wondering how the characters are doing... I came to love them and care about them as if they were real people in my life, a testament to the skill of the author. I was so moved by this story that I cried several times and laughed out loud too. A truly human story about living with new and facing old trauma, told in a voice that sounded like a close friend confiding in me, What the Living Do is now on my keeper shelf. I loved this book.

[Deborah Bayer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brett is a protagonist to root for, even when she makes terrible decisions. Her childhood trauma has fractured her family, and she blames herself. But she surrounds herself with people who love her. When she is finally able to forgive herself, her relationships change. She can see who loves her and who only pretends to.

[Lois Rooney-Giurin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book reminds me if the "Can Lit" we used to study in English when I attended high school. This is very much in a class with the books by Margaret Atwood, Margaret Lawrence and Alice Munro that we read.

Beautifully written, full of lush simile and metaphor, it was a worthwhile read.

[Phil Dwyer · Rating 5 out of 5]

***Review to follow***

[Linda Sienkiewicz · Rating 5 out of 5]

The narrator of the story, Brett, is angry, impulsive, and often mean to those who love her, yet on a gut level, reflective. I wondered when and if I would get to know or understand her. That happened quickly, and then I could not stop reading. The writing is deeply emotional and yet the pacing is fast, oftentimes torrential. When everything comes to a head, it hits hard. I set the book aside when I had three chapters left because I was exhausted and wanted to savor the ending; I knew it would be that good. And the author delivered. Wow.