Death and Other Holidays

by Marci Vogel

The 2017 Miami Book Fair/de Groot Prize winner, this debut fiction introduces a distinctive new American voice.

Funny, tender, and wholly original, Death & Other Holidays is a year in the life of a young woman coming to terms with the death of her beloved stepfather, while attempting to find love in LA. We are introduced to her friends and family, as she struggles to launch herself out into the world, to take the risks of love—the one constancy in all the change.

Told with a great good humor and underlying affection for all her characters, Death and Other Holidays announces a brilliant and assured new voice in American fiction.

Genres: Fiction, Novella, Contemporary, American, Short Stories, Grief, Literary Fiction

144 pages, Hardcover

First published November 13, 2018

Reviews

[Julie G · Rating 3 out of 5]

This little book is being promoted as a novella, but I'm more inclined to think of it as an appetizer than a small entree. It is, to me, not a full-bodied story, but a collection of images.

The author is a poet who has published one work of poetry, At the Border of Wilshire & Nobody, and I'd be curious to read it. She has a strong knack for capturing the essence in the room, a bit like the photographer protagonist herself in the story. Death and Other Holidays is a tribute to our senses; in it you find the look and the feel of every room, every setting.

What I didn't find here was character depth or believable dialogue. And, truth be told, Ms. Vogel wouldn't be the first poet to struggle with capturing the way others talk. I think of the poet as the person who sits quietly on the rock, away from the group, missing most of the conversation around them, but the same person who goes home later that evening and manages to capture, brilliantly, in words, the way the sunset looked smeared across the sky in purple fingerpaint on that day.

Also, the minutiae in this book was tiresome. The protagonist, April, seems interested in giving the reader the running details of every shopping trip, every inventory of the items in the frig. Here's one example:

By the time I got to the checkout, my basket was full: five ears of corn, a bag of radishes, a pound of carrots, five apples, three oranges, two heads of lettuce—butter and red leaf—an orange pepper, three onions, one basket of mushrooms, a quarter-cut cantaloupe, two lemons, and an avocado. The bill was $92.47. I had some non-produce items, too.

Oy! Make it stop. I go to the grocery store a minimum of three times a week to feed a family of five and I don't want to look at another goddamned grocery list as long as I live. Please, please. . . tell me instead that the grocery clerk is Jamaican and his ass won't stop in those jeans. Tell me that you've been trying to make eye contact with him for months, and when you finally did, you dropped your infernal shopping list in surprise. Next thing you knew, you were in a back storage room, holding on to his dreadlocks for leverage as you struggled to maintain your balance on a crate with your inner thighs, but DO NOT TELL ME THAT YOU'VE GOT SOME NON-PRODUCE ITEMS, TOO.

You've got this, Ms. Vogel. You can do this, you can write prose. Just make sure and look away from the sunset sometimes and listen to the people standing around you in the dirt, talking.

And abandon the lists, okay?

[Alena · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'd recommend reading this lovely novella in one setting because, while it's not poetry, it's lyrical and beautifully paced. Covering one year of grief and living, it's cadence is an important part of the storytelling. No great revelations here, but a lovely way to spend an evening with a talented voice. I hope she has more to say.

[Janet · Rating 5 out of 5]

The quiet everyday beauty of this little book bowled me over. A loosely linked year of tiny stories, divided into sections by season, of a young woman dealing with the deaths of men--her stepfather, recently, and her father--by suicide--years before, how one death opens up the entire subject you think was closed, the central story interwoven with her interactions with the world and with men in her dating life. While the men in her life seem to move in a steady flow, her best friend is a pillar--almost a Greek chorus of one--weighing in on the protagonist's situation.

Each story is told with such a light touch, it's like watching a feather on your fingertip, and yet it deals with the difficulties of growing up, the difficulties and strangeness of other people, the lingering absence death leaves. Vogel is a poet, and handles these small moments of living so beautifully... it's like watching someone make an omelette or wash dishes, and then suddenly take a pirouette, arabesque, and go back to washing dishes. I look forward to rereading this novella-in-stories for years to come. Note, it's published by Melville House--a publisher I always watch for, which specializes in novella-length work. Always handsome editions, and this is no exception.

[James · Rating 4 out of 5]

Perceptive and quietly charming, Marci Vogel's first novel is the unassuming but sneakily profound story of a year in the life of a young woman grieving the death of her loved stepfather. A friend's marriage, a new relationship, depression and an old dog are the foci around which the story moves, capturing the beauty and awkwardness of life. Not a word is wasted, and Vogel manages the neat trick of making reading about the experience of grief, an inherently boring thing, fascinating and even funny.

[Sara · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a sweet book, I loved it! This is the story of a woman in her twenties in the year after her step dad passed away. We go through her ups and downs, various boyfriends, family matters, apartments. It takes place in the 90's and I am her I think. I wasn't reeling from a loss back then, but I can identify with her life.

Some chapters are short, some longer. Just snatches of her life, but I feel like we're friends.

[Mare · Rating 2 out of 5]

The structure of this book is engaging - a novella with quick chapters. The story arc is a familiar one, done both in nonfiction and fiction, death followed by life. We're exploring a terrible tragedy, in this case two father figure deaths, one current and one many years ago. And the gathered threads along the way include some apartments, boyfriends, best friend's wedding and career.
The author makes good use of her small canvas in terms of communicating necessary and even poetic plot and conflict advancements; however, the ending is just too Disney.
Yes, sure, a parent is killed in the beginning of nearly EVERY Disney tale, but the end, the end is joyful and perfect. Who needs their parents anyway? This author wraps up every single thread in such a neat bow I was actually annoyed. Tossed the book across the room annoyed. So grateful it wasn't a 500-pager, I prolly would have thrown it out the window. I mean in 2019 do we still have to make everyone happy at the end in order to talk about death?

[Mary · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book broke my heart and made me smile. Her language is clear and poetic in all the best ways. If you love Lorrie Moore or Amy Hempel, you will probably love Marci Vogel. I can't wait to see what she writes next.

[Raven · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Sculpture, writing, photography. Something might still exist if you didn’t, but it wouldn’t be exactly the same. Your version wouldn’t have been made. It’s action that creates what we’re looking at now. Something out of nothing, see?”

Often, when I go to the library, I browse the fiction section and pick out books at random. There is a certain combination of factors that always appeals to me: a slim spine which suggests the book is a novella, an interesting title, an aesthetically appealing cover, and a dust jacket flap that mentions “late twenty-something” or “early thirty-something.” Death and Other Holidays checked all but one of those boxes (the cover is fine, but it isn’t particularly visually interesting), so I had to check it out.

As the title would suggest it is about death. April, our twenty-seven year old protagonist, is grieving the death of her father and her step-father. This novella focuses on the minutiae of her life over the course of a year immediately following the death of her step-father. It is divided into four sections: spring, summer, fall, and winter.

This book deals with what happens when you begin to anticipate endings rather than being rooted/present in the moment. And Marci Vogel handles this topic well, because she never ignores the fact that this is a learned skill and kind of a sensible reaction when loss is a recurring theme in one’s life. April also has this recurring anxiety and about love, and quantifying it, and physicalizing it. Can two people love ever really love one another equally, or does one person love more? What happens to the love a person had for you when they die? When they don’t die, but simply exit the relationship? Are some loves worth more than others? I truly enjoyed pondering those questions as I read this quiet novella.

Also, the writing is pretty spare but the imagery is lush (Does that make sense? I don’t know, but I’m sticking with it.). For example: “Victor and I go in search of still-available gifts. My new boots keep catching on the display rugs, and it’s tricky to maneuver stops by the corners of stacked glass. Finally, we arrive safely at the kitchenware section, where we find white melamine bows, 14 oz., 4.75” dia. x 2.75” h., item #628-440. We imagine all the chocolate ice cream we’ll be eating over the next forty years in those bowls at Libby and Hugo’s, all the strawberry shortcake, the summer red gazpacho.” (!!!). Also, the chapter titled, “Diagram of Dogs” (!!!) nearly broke my heart! That chapter could exist independently as a short story, a micro, a flash fiction piece; it can absolutely carry itself and it’s worth a read if nothing else.

The ending is surreal and I’m not sure if I fully understand it. And I’m thinking that perhaps that is the point. That last paragraph is beautifully written though, whatever it means. I liked this book and while I read the first half slowly, I devoured the second half in the span of a half-hour. Marci Vogel’s style is reminiscent of Jenny Offill in some ways: fragmented, focused on the inner life of the main character rather than any sort of plot, and dreamy in a way that I vibe with on the deepest of levels. Marci Vogel’s artistry is certainly her own though, and Death and Other Holidays is an absolute gem.

Notable Quotables:
“Stop searching forever, happiness is just next to you.

“It’s like this, I think: Sometimes atoms travel together in pairs through space. What happens when the coupled atoms pass by a black hole is that only one of them gets pulled in. The other is propelled in the opposite direction. At the exact moment of separation, there’s a bright flash of light from ripping apart. It’s like a whole universe is shocked at the new arrangement.”

[ANGELICA · Rating 3 out of 5]

Slow start, the middle was great, the ending was extremely abrupt and a little disappointing. I understand that the book is poetic in nature and we are working with vignettes of time and space but I really thought I had another chapter left when I turned the last page and came to the acknowledgements. Not entirely disappointing, like I said the page 30+ really sucked me in, I am just left with little closure.

[Vanessa · Rating 5 out of 5]

this book.
the quiet, sad beauty of this small book.

[Janine · Rating 5 out of 5]

The perfect novella to read in one sitting (one laying?) in bed on a Sunday morning. The beauty of day-to-day life — buying produce, planting a garden, going for a drive, a dog nuzzling your hand with its nose — amidst a backdrop of loss, and love. A wise book written so well, it seems as if it wasn’t written.

[thebookwormscorner · Rating 4 out of 5]

" The problems of the world are impossible to solve"
-Wilson, Death and other Holidays
TW/CW: Grieving a family members death, divorce, talks of suicide

A short book, but very well written (to me anyway). We're taken into the life of April. Set in the 90's, April just lost her stepfather, Wilson. Her mother biological father separated when she was younger, and her father committed suicide when she was a teenager, so she's had a pretty crappy life and has been dealing with death more than she should. She's grieving them both and being in her late 20's and now alone after her room mate Libby moved out to be with her boyfriend she has a lot of time to reflect on her past and present relationships as well as everything in between. These stories are often shown in little snippets or in a few pages. The words making a impactful statement, making you feel something in your soul. This is my first novella and I enjoyed it.

[Alan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Interestingly good.

[KL · Rating 3 out of 5]

Read this book if you're finding for a lovely quick read. For me the writing is what makes it enjoyable rather than the story. Read the book in one sitting just because of the lovely style.

[Eden Weber · Rating 4 out of 5]

Every day is a gift and little details about people become monumental

[Jo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lovely.

[Latkins · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set in 1998 and 1999, this novella tells the story of a year in the life of its narrator, April. At the beginning, in the spring, her stepfather Wilson has just died, and she is grieving for him. Her father and mother split up when she was a child and her father committed suicide when she was a teenager. Now in her late 20s, she's living alone after her roommate Libby has moved out to live with her fiance Hugo. The story takes us through the year in short chapters, highlighting a moment from her present or her past as she come to terms with Wilson's death and goes through several relationships. Life and death in miniature, somehow made more profound with the ordinary details of the everyday. A short but memorable novel.

[Amy Jekel · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've never read anything quite like it. It's like walking through a gallery and considering different works, so it seems appropriate that April works in a museum. It's like looking through photos and learning the little vivid moments of someone else's life, so it's appropriate that April is an amateur photographer. And the white line runs through it all, connecting the rhythm of the year, tethering all of life's little moments. Thoughtful, playful, and provoking. A reminder that being entirely oneself is beautiful, even if you never quite belong.

[Hannah · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm not really sure what to think of this. That ending was truly unexpected though. I didn't feel like there was enough time to really connect with or learn about any of the characters. What is written is mostly just every day errands and routines, which don't really give a view into a person's mind. It was different, which is what I was looking for, so at least I got what I wanted I suppose.

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

A charming story of loss and discovery told by a young woman mourning the loss of her father. The author’s deft prose and light touch make this a pleasure to read.

[sushiladybug · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Start, Go.” Marci is a mentor of mine and I return to this book whenever I’m feeling stuck. Thank you Marci, for a book that’s helping me through my twenties and probably beyond.

[Gina · Rating 1 out of 5]

1.5 - 2 stars

BuzzFeed News calls Death and Other Holidays a stunning meditation on loss, love, and our powerlessness in the face of time.

BuzzFeed News' review is as vapid and pointless as the book. Death and Other Holidays is not stunning; it is sluggish. It is not a meditation; it is a collection of essays, journal entries, or blog posts that Marci Vogel pulled together and managed to get published.

Who is Marci Vogel, and why do I care about about her community garden or her losing an earring?

She is a poet, which may explain how she manages to write lovely words whilst simultaneously writing overwritten grammatical garbage. Instead of writing Victor and I always slept late, Vogel writes, Victor and I, we always slept late.

How about this nugget of nonsense?

We cast Wilson's ashes into the bay, emptied the box to the sky. They blew out, and all the hope that ever was, I tried to imagine what happens to hope that's mixed with ash.

What is Vogel saying? Without complete sentences and periods, I am at a loss as to how to decipher it.

Not every book needs to be deeply plot-driven, but what is it with these books in which almost nothing happens? I have neither the words (other than piss off or sod off) nor the strength to address the ridiculous ending.

Other than the essays in which she discusses her father (death by suicide) and her stepfather (death by cancer), the bulk of the book is (as Johnny Rotten may or may not have said) boring, Sidney, boring.

[Rob Forteath · Rating 4 out of 5]

Firstly, a star-gazing fact: the most distant object visible to the unaided human eye is the galaxy Andromeda. But if you stare directly at it, you will never see it. The only way you will catch a glimpse is by looking at something a bit to one side, and the galaxy will then be noticed by the more sensitive part of your retina.

An analogous trick is used consistently through this novella. April is in a depressed state, but instead of knocking her into her serious issues head-on, we see her take them on obliquely. While appearing to us (and herself) to be tackling ordinary events in her ordinary life, we see her gradually making significant gains. She focuses on things she can handle by making decisions that somehow manage to let glimpses of truth slip in past her conscious.

This is all handled in a deft manner by the author, who doesn't put a wasted word onto the page. A lot of editing and rewriting must have gone into crafting this short book, and it is well worth the couple of hours it takes to read.

[Marj Clark · Rating 3 out of 5]

I swithered between 3 and 4 stars for this one - 3.5?

My mum recommended this to me and I read it in 2 short sittings. I enjoyed the detached snapshots, short and sweet chapters, the quick glances into floating moments of April's (main protagonist) life.

The book begins and ends with camera references, which is apt for its neat, poetic chapters which are like lyrical polaroids. April's musings cover bereavement, dating, and life's familiar banalities, all in a late 90s setting.


In spite of the often serious overtones of grief, commitment and relationships, it is an easy read and evokes some of the sunshine of the American west coast. Something familiar about the dialogue and I enjoyed the car comparisons, camera and sea themes.

[Amy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Vogel offers a straight-forward piece that dives directly in like a one night stand with no strings attached. Protagonist April is in her late 20’s, living in Los Angeles and working as a curatorial assistant. The novella includes her narration of a series of events that take place over the course of a year following the death of her step father. Chapters are very short with sections broken up by season. This book is a very quick read.

Vogel’s writing style is fabulously direct. Without overbearing and complicated sentences, she still evokes imagery and creates dynamic characters. Death and Other Holidays seems to shed new light on everyday occurrences and give meaning to the mundane. This would be a great read for an airplane ride because there aren’t pages and chapters of introduction, the story grabs from page one.

[Evelyn · Rating 2 out of 5]

An unassuming series of episodic images and instances, wrapped with a bow and masquerading as a novella, about grief and how it intertwines itself with daily life. Vogel tells each story like she is sitting in the room with you, like you're being handed a photograph.

Death and Other Holidays is neat and charming that way. Everything wraps up just fine.

That's how grief works, sometimes: it sneaks into the crevasses of your life, while memories wrap themselves around even the most mundane things you do. You don't have to be perpetually sad. Sometimes, you just feel, and it is just that inexplicable. Vogel captures it perfectly.

A quiet read, great for finishing in a sitting.

[Carol · Rating 2 out of 5]

I enjoyed the structure of this novella, which read more like a memoir then fiction. Brief snapshots carry the reader through a year of grieving after the loss of a beloved stepfather. However, the many comma splices, timeline mistakes, verb tense mistakes, and other poor editing choices were more than mildly distracting. Even the blurb inside the front cover of the dust jacket is poorly edited.

As far as the story itself goes though, I wish more had happened. A bit of a story arc wouldn't have been too much to ask. The ending just annoyed me. It was like a few lines of poetry were tacked on to the end of a slow-moving story. Some of the description was well-written, evocative even. But this isn't the book I will remember reading, although I think the author has potential.

[Erin Myler · Rating 3 out of 5]

I was unconvinced at first but it grew on me. The novella is one year of April’s life sectioned into the four seasons, starting with spring and ending with winter. The micro chapters feel like leafing through a stack of photographs; brief snapshots of events in her life that move quickly. Once you move on to the next, you kinda forget about the one you just read, yet it pieces together her life story. The fall section had the most weight for me and caused me to be more invested. I enjoyed the parallel of the fall & winter chapters becoming longer as Victor becomes a more constant and grounding companion in her life.

[R. · Rating 5 out of 5]

SSRI Television Commercial: The Novelization

A slim yet elegantly designed novel, a year of death (and other holidays) told in quiet vignettes that call to mind Banana Yoshimoto in their poetic austerity - mercifully short, as bad years tend to be, otherwise the narrator's seemingly relentless rollout of tragedies and heartbreak might overwhelm sensitive readers - to say nothing of the ending that may confuse and shock despite an inevitability that sensitive readers (again with that cohort, that desired audience) will discern (nodding sagely, murmuring yes, that was inevitable) upon quiet reflection an hour after the turning of the last page.

[Chelsea · Rating 5 out of 5]

“She said she’s afraid of losing her mind, her memory, of being erased, so every day she takes a photograph of something, and that way she won’t lose her life when the time comes. I thought it was a good idea.”

Relatable, authentic, unfussy and somehow transcendent. Proof that everyday moments can be so much more than the sum of their parts, that grief can be softened or sharpened by happiness, that life goes on. Stylistically reminiscent of Hunter’s The End We Start From. Stellar, already can’t wait to revisit this.