What do you think?
Rate this book
What Remains?: Life, Death and the Human Art of Undertaking
Death is not my friend, neither is it my enemy; it is my destiny.
When he became an undertaker, Rupert Callender undertook to deal with the dead for the sake of the living. What Remains? is the brilliant, unforgettable story of the life and work of the world's first punk undertaker - but it is also a book about ordinary, everyday humanity and our capacity to face death with courage and compassion. To say goodbye to the people we love in our own way.
And in becoming the world's first 'punk undertaker' and establishing the Green Funeral Company in Devon, Ru Callender and his partner Claire challenged the stilted, traditional, structured world of the funeral industry: fusing what he had learned from his own deeply personal experiences with death, with the surprising and profound answers and raw emotion he discovered in rave culture and ritual magick.
From his unresolved grief for his parents and his cultural ancestors to political and religious non-conformists, social outlaws, experimental pioneers and acid house culture, Ru Callender has taken an outsider 'DIY' ethos to help people navigate grief and death. He has carried coffins across windswept beaches, sat in pubs with caskets on beer-stained tables, helped children fire flaming arrows into their father's funeral pyre, turned modern occult rituals into performance art and, with the KLF, is building the People's Pyramid of bony bricks in Liverpool.
What Remains? is a deeply moving book that will change the way readers think about life, death and the all-important end-of-life experience. As Ru memorably says, 'Death has shown me unimaginable horror, the unbreakable core of love and courage that lies at the heart of what it means to be human.'
When he became an undertaker, Rupert Callender undertook to deal with the dead for the sake of the living. What Remains? is the brilliant, unforgettable story of the life and work of the world's first punk undertaker - but it is also a book about ordinary, everyday humanity and our capacity to face death with courage and compassion. To say goodbye to the people we love in our own way.
And in becoming the world's first 'punk undertaker' and establishing the Green Funeral Company in Devon, Ru Callender and his partner Claire challenged the stilted, traditional, structured world of the funeral industry: fusing what he had learned from his own deeply personal experiences with death, with the surprising and profound answers and raw emotion he discovered in rave culture and ritual magick.
From his unresolved grief for his parents and his cultural ancestors to political and religious non-conformists, social outlaws, experimental pioneers and acid house culture, Ru Callender has taken an outsider 'DIY' ethos to help people navigate grief and death. He has carried coffins across windswept beaches, sat in pubs with caskets on beer-stained tables, helped children fire flaming arrows into their father's funeral pyre, turned modern occult rituals into performance art and, with the KLF, is building the People's Pyramid of bony bricks in Liverpool.
What Remains? is a deeply moving book that will change the way readers think about life, death and the all-important end-of-life experience. As Ru memorably says, 'Death has shown me unimaginable horror, the unbreakable core of love and courage that lies at the heart of what it means to be human.'
263 pages, Hardcover
First published September 15, 2022
23 people are currently reading
575 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 63 reviews
October 10, 2022
Call me morbid or call me realistic; in the last decade and a half I have read a lot of books about death, including terminal illness and bereavements. I’ve even read several nonfiction works by American mortician Caitlin Doughty. But I’ve not read anything quite like punk undertaker Rupert Callender’s manifesto about modern death and how much we get wrong in our conceptualization and conversations. It was poignant to be reading this in the weeks surrounding Queen Elizabeth II’s death – a time when death got more discussion than usual, yes, but when there was also some ridiculous pomp that obscured the basic human facts of it.
Callender is not okay with death, and never has been. When he was seven, his father died of a heart attack at age 63. His 1970s Edinburgh upbringing was shattered and his mother, who he has no doubt was doing her best, made a few terrible mistakes. First, a year before, she’d reassured him that his father wasn’t going to die. Second, she didn’t make him attend the funeral. (I still wish my mother had made me go back to tour my late grandmother’s house one final time when I was seven; instead, I stayed behind and played on a Ouija board with my cousins.) Third, she soon sent Callender away to boarding school, which left him feeling alone and betrayed. And lastly, when she died of cancer when he was 25, she had planned every detail of her funeral – whereas he believes that is a task for the survivors.
An orphan in his late twenties, Callender came across The Natural Death Handbook and it sealed his future. He’d been expelled from school and blown his inheritance; acid house culture had given him a sense of community. Now he had a vocation. The first funeral he coordinated was for a postman named Barry. The fourth was a suicide. Their first child burial was one of his partner’s daughter’s classmates.
Over the next two decades, he and his (now ex-)wife Claire based Totnes’ The Green Funeral Company on old-fashioned values and homespun ceremonies. They oppose the overmedicalization of death and the clinical detachment of places like crematoria. Callender is vehemently anti-embalming – an intrusive process that involves toxic substances. They encourage the bereaved to keep the body at home for the week before a funeral, if they feel able (ice packs like you’d use in a picnic cool bag will work a treat), and to be their own pallbearers to make the memory of the funeral day a physical one. He performs the eulogies himself, and they use cardboard coffins.
This is a slippery work for how it intersperses personal stories with polemic and poetic writing. Despite a roughly chronological throughline, it feels more like a thematic set of essays than a sequential narrative. Callender has turned death rituals into both performance art (including at festivals and in collaboration with The KLF) and political protests (e.g., a public funeral he conducted for a homeless man who died of exposure, the third such death in his town that year). While he doesn’t shy away from the gruesome realities of dealing with corpses, he always brings it back to fundamentals: matter is what we are, but who we were lives on in others’ loving memories. Death rituals plug us into a human lineage and proclaim meaning in the face of nothingness. Whether you’ve seen/read it all or never considered picking up a book about death, I recommend Callender’s sui generis approach.
Some favourite lines:
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
Callender is not okay with death, and never has been. When he was seven, his father died of a heart attack at age 63. His 1970s Edinburgh upbringing was shattered and his mother, who he has no doubt was doing her best, made a few terrible mistakes. First, a year before, she’d reassured him that his father wasn’t going to die. Second, she didn’t make him attend the funeral. (I still wish my mother had made me go back to tour my late grandmother’s house one final time when I was seven; instead, I stayed behind and played on a Ouija board with my cousins.) Third, she soon sent Callender away to boarding school, which left him feeling alone and betrayed. And lastly, when she died of cancer when he was 25, she had planned every detail of her funeral – whereas he believes that is a task for the survivors.
An orphan in his late twenties, Callender came across The Natural Death Handbook and it sealed his future. He’d been expelled from school and blown his inheritance; acid house culture had given him a sense of community. Now he had a vocation. The first funeral he coordinated was for a postman named Barry. The fourth was a suicide. Their first child burial was one of his partner’s daughter’s classmates.
Over the next two decades, he and his (now ex-)wife Claire based Totnes’ The Green Funeral Company on old-fashioned values and homespun ceremonies. They oppose the overmedicalization of death and the clinical detachment of places like crematoria. Callender is vehemently anti-embalming – an intrusive process that involves toxic substances. They encourage the bereaved to keep the body at home for the week before a funeral, if they feel able (ice packs like you’d use in a picnic cool bag will work a treat), and to be their own pallbearers to make the memory of the funeral day a physical one. He performs the eulogies himself, and they use cardboard coffins.
This is a slippery work for how it intersperses personal stories with polemic and poetic writing. Despite a roughly chronological throughline, it feels more like a thematic set of essays than a sequential narrative. Callender has turned death rituals into both performance art (including at festivals and in collaboration with The KLF) and political protests (e.g., a public funeral he conducted for a homeless man who died of exposure, the third such death in his town that year). While he doesn’t shy away from the gruesome realities of dealing with corpses, he always brings it back to fundamentals: matter is what we are, but who we were lives on in others’ loving memories. Death rituals plug us into a human lineage and proclaim meaning in the face of nothingness. Whether you’ve seen/read it all or never considered picking up a book about death, I recommend Callender’s sui generis approach.
Some favourite lines:
“[The practice of having official pallbearers] is all part of the emotional infantilising encouraged by the funeral industry, all part of being turned into an audience at one of the most significant moments in your family history, instead of being empowered as a family and a community.”
“each death we experience contains every death we have ever lived through, Russian dolls of bereavement waiting to be unpacked.”
“Only once you are dead can the full arc of your life be clearly seen, and telling that story out loud and truthfully to the people who shared it is a powerful social act that both binds us together and place us within our culture.”
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
July 11, 2022
I want to preface this review by saying I tried really hard to read this book. I read it on the train to work, I read it on the train back from work, I read it during my lunch break, and I even read it when I was supposed to be answering emails. This book was a slog to get through.
What is very clear is that Callender has never forgiven his mother for sending him to boarding school after his father died. He does admit this fact early on, but it features in almost every chapter, about how angry he is. I wish he’d done more therapy before he started writing this book because it would have saved chapter space to write about, you know, the thing the book is meant to be about.
Callender comes from a place of enormous privilege. He was given a lot of money after his father died (which he happily admits to wasting on drugs and idiotic business ventures), and he’s also a straight white man who thought that eel fishing was a good way to make money. However, Callender thinks that because he identifies as a “punk”, this, therefore, makes him an underdog and that he’s sticking it to the man by lying in fields at night pretending to be a crop circle.
I felt reading this book that Callender has no respect for the people left behind by those who die. He insults them, and says that people who hold unpunk funerals are just “doing it for themselves”. That grieving families holding church funerals are all idiots, and how dare they stick to formalities because they have just gone through intense trauma.
There is never any warmth that comes from Callender’s writing – yet he claims that he cares about all the people he’s given funerals for. I never felt this at any point in the text, and Callender comes across as very cruel in several passages. I would never trust him with any funeral of my loved one, and I will just add that I’m very much the “stick me in a bin bag and throw it in the sea” type of person.
Also, the idea that Callender was “the first” person to come up with the idea of funerals that didn’t involve religion is ludacris. He acts like he’s the most inventive and intelligent person in the world because his funerals take place in a field and not a church. I wish someone had sat Callender down in his twenties and told him that just because he had a sad childhood (where he happily admits he bullied other children and everyone else did it so it was okay), that doesn’t mean he’s the specialist boy in the world.
In conclusion, I was heavily disappointed in this book, and it left me with a sour taste in my mouth. Callender claims he’s not like the greedy faceless funeral corporations, but I read a memoir of a stuck-up smug man who I wouldn’t trust with my drink at a bar, let alone a funeral. I wouldn’t recommend this book, unless of course, you’re holding a funeral pyre and need some extra kindling.
Thank you to Netgalley for this ARC.
What is very clear is that Callender has never forgiven his mother for sending him to boarding school after his father died. He does admit this fact early on, but it features in almost every chapter, about how angry he is. I wish he’d done more therapy before he started writing this book because it would have saved chapter space to write about, you know, the thing the book is meant to be about.
Callender comes from a place of enormous privilege. He was given a lot of money after his father died (which he happily admits to wasting on drugs and idiotic business ventures), and he’s also a straight white man who thought that eel fishing was a good way to make money. However, Callender thinks that because he identifies as a “punk”, this, therefore, makes him an underdog and that he’s sticking it to the man by lying in fields at night pretending to be a crop circle.
I felt reading this book that Callender has no respect for the people left behind by those who die. He insults them, and says that people who hold unpunk funerals are just “doing it for themselves”. That grieving families holding church funerals are all idiots, and how dare they stick to formalities because they have just gone through intense trauma.
There is never any warmth that comes from Callender’s writing – yet he claims that he cares about all the people he’s given funerals for. I never felt this at any point in the text, and Callender comes across as very cruel in several passages. I would never trust him with any funeral of my loved one, and I will just add that I’m very much the “stick me in a bin bag and throw it in the sea” type of person.
Also, the idea that Callender was “the first” person to come up with the idea of funerals that didn’t involve religion is ludacris. He acts like he’s the most inventive and intelligent person in the world because his funerals take place in a field and not a church. I wish someone had sat Callender down in his twenties and told him that just because he had a sad childhood (where he happily admits he bullied other children and everyone else did it so it was okay), that doesn’t mean he’s the specialist boy in the world.
In conclusion, I was heavily disappointed in this book, and it left me with a sour taste in my mouth. Callender claims he’s not like the greedy faceless funeral corporations, but I read a memoir of a stuck-up smug man who I wouldn’t trust with my drink at a bar, let alone a funeral. I wouldn’t recommend this book, unless of course, you’re holding a funeral pyre and need some extra kindling.
Thank you to Netgalley for this ARC.
October 28, 2024
This book turned out to be quite different from what I initially anticipated. While there were sections I genuinely appreciated, others left me feeling dissatisfied.
The author bravely tackles deeply personal and sometimes uncomfortable subjects, particularly his own tumultuous relationship with death. It’s evident that the trauma of losing loved ones and experiencing abandonment during his childhood has profoundly shaped his identity. I can't help but think that seeking professional counselling could offer him valuable insights and healing.
Moreover, I have significant concerns about the death industry—its increasingly impersonal nature and the way funerals often feel like assembly line processes. The costs seem to rise relentlessly, stripping away the individuality that should characterize such a meaningful farewell.
In our contemporary society, particularly in the Western world, we’ve grown increasingly detached from the reality of death. With longer life expectancies and an ageing population, many of us aren’t faced with the loss of a loved one until we reach adulthood, leading to experiences that feel more clinical and sterile. Therefore, I believe that any discussion or exploration of alternative, more personalized methods of memorializing our deceased—especially those that consider environmental impact—is incredibly valuable.
The author raises many points that resonate with me. I wholeheartedly agree that we should reject the notion of venerating the deceased as infallible, perfect beings. The reality is that we are complex, often flawed individuals, and it's essential for those left behind to remember this truth. Acknowledging both the good and the bad in our loved ones can help alleviate the pressure to forgive indiscriminately or to only cherish the positive memories.
However, there are problematic aspects as well. I don't believe in a binary mindset regarding ceremonies. If individuals prefer a traditional religious service, a more reserved approach, or even cremation, that’s absolutely valid. People who feel overwhelmed by the thought of planning and executing a funeral often need to honour their preferences without judgment. Their methods of commemorating the deceased should never be seen as inferior to anyone else's.
It’s also important to recognize the author’s privileged background. His father’s wealth afforded him opportunities and experiences that many people in our society simply don’t have access to, which undoubtedly influenced his perspectives.
In summary, I believe there is no singular correct approach to experiencing death; each individual’s journey is valid and deserving of respect. We urgently need more open conversations about death—what we desire for ourselves and how we wish to honour those we’ve lost. Normalizing this basic human experience can shed light on our preferences for end-of-life decisions, both for ourselves and in our grief.
While this book didn’t entirely meet my expectations, it does join a growing collection of literature that thoughtfully engages with death and memorialization. I want to express my gratitude to the author, the publishers, and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of this book.
The author bravely tackles deeply personal and sometimes uncomfortable subjects, particularly his own tumultuous relationship with death. It’s evident that the trauma of losing loved ones and experiencing abandonment during his childhood has profoundly shaped his identity. I can't help but think that seeking professional counselling could offer him valuable insights and healing.
Moreover, I have significant concerns about the death industry—its increasingly impersonal nature and the way funerals often feel like assembly line processes. The costs seem to rise relentlessly, stripping away the individuality that should characterize such a meaningful farewell.
In our contemporary society, particularly in the Western world, we’ve grown increasingly detached from the reality of death. With longer life expectancies and an ageing population, many of us aren’t faced with the loss of a loved one until we reach adulthood, leading to experiences that feel more clinical and sterile. Therefore, I believe that any discussion or exploration of alternative, more personalized methods of memorializing our deceased—especially those that consider environmental impact—is incredibly valuable.
The author raises many points that resonate with me. I wholeheartedly agree that we should reject the notion of venerating the deceased as infallible, perfect beings. The reality is that we are complex, often flawed individuals, and it's essential for those left behind to remember this truth. Acknowledging both the good and the bad in our loved ones can help alleviate the pressure to forgive indiscriminately or to only cherish the positive memories.
However, there are problematic aspects as well. I don't believe in a binary mindset regarding ceremonies. If individuals prefer a traditional religious service, a more reserved approach, or even cremation, that’s absolutely valid. People who feel overwhelmed by the thought of planning and executing a funeral often need to honour their preferences without judgment. Their methods of commemorating the deceased should never be seen as inferior to anyone else's.
It’s also important to recognize the author’s privileged background. His father’s wealth afforded him opportunities and experiences that many people in our society simply don’t have access to, which undoubtedly influenced his perspectives.
In summary, I believe there is no singular correct approach to experiencing death; each individual’s journey is valid and deserving of respect. We urgently need more open conversations about death—what we desire for ourselves and how we wish to honour those we’ve lost. Normalizing this basic human experience can shed light on our preferences for end-of-life decisions, both for ourselves and in our grief.
While this book didn’t entirely meet my expectations, it does join a growing collection of literature that thoughtfully engages with death and memorialization. I want to express my gratitude to the author, the publishers, and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of this book.
February 22, 2023
I always say that there are three things that are inevitable. Death, taxes and your computer crashing. Nowadays my computer rarely crashes and tory grandees seem to think that taxes don’t apply to them. However, none of us can avoid death, even those who have taken it upon themselves to rely on the pseudoscience of cryogenics.
Almost all of the funerals that take place in the UK are rooted in the rituals and habits of the Victorian era. And whilst this is fine for most people, it is not right for others. Robert Callender describes himself as the first punk undertaker. But rather than a leather-clad bloke with some suspicious piercings and a Mohican, he is a ray of light in the stilted world of the British undertakers.
The funeral system that exists in this country is very much a one size fits all process. Callander wants to show that there are many other ways of coming to terms with the loss of a loved one. He aims to de-mystify the fears around death and the way that we see it in society and help people discover their own grief for the person that they have lost. Each funeral is for that family and he will rarely say no to anything should a family request it.
Even though death walks these pages, it is not morbid in the slightest. There are a lot of dead bodies in here and there are some parts that may be uncomfortable reading for some, I won’t expand on them here though. I felt that I was being guided by someone who is very sensitive to people’s actual needs as they say goodbye. Thought that it was interesting that he wrote about those that are laying to rest family members that were not always liked and in certain instances detested. It is really sensitively written, too. He has a knack of being reassuring and quietly confident in what he is doing and most importantly why he is doing it.
Almost all of the funerals that take place in the UK are rooted in the rituals and habits of the Victorian era. And whilst this is fine for most people, it is not right for others. Robert Callender describes himself as the first punk undertaker. But rather than a leather-clad bloke with some suspicious piercings and a Mohican, he is a ray of light in the stilted world of the British undertakers.
The funeral system that exists in this country is very much a one size fits all process. Callander wants to show that there are many other ways of coming to terms with the loss of a loved one. He aims to de-mystify the fears around death and the way that we see it in society and help people discover their own grief for the person that they have lost. Each funeral is for that family and he will rarely say no to anything should a family request it.
Even though death walks these pages, it is not morbid in the slightest. There are a lot of dead bodies in here and there are some parts that may be uncomfortable reading for some, I won’t expand on them here though. I felt that I was being guided by someone who is very sensitive to people’s actual needs as they say goodbye. Thought that it was interesting that he wrote about those that are laying to rest family members that were not always liked and in certain instances detested. It is really sensitively written, too. He has a knack of being reassuring and quietly confident in what he is doing and most importantly why he is doing it.
December 11, 2022
If I’d not listened to this on audio, I probably wouldn’t have finished it. Reading it as a physical book, I’ve no doubt I’d have given up on it within the first chapter or two.
The book is read by the author himself, who I found unlikeable, appears bitter for his upbringing (which sounds like it was one of immense privilege) & is insulting of people who don’t agree with his ideas (“reptile brained” being one phrase that springs to mind).
I like to read books about death, but this was less about death & more about the author’s apparent attempt to single handedly overhaul the funeral industry into something more radical. I found the talk of magic, spells (which included meditation to the point of orgasm) & rituals extremely strange.
I also cannot support someone who advocates the use of illegal drugs (MDMA) for “healing” & suggests families should use them together around the bed of a dying relative.
It’s rare for me to give a critical review of a book in this way but I found this book disturbing on so many levels. I have given it 2 stars merely because I did find the stories of some of the people in his care (of which he mentioned few) quite emotional.
I appreciate the publisher having sent me this book in exchange for an honest review.
The book is read by the author himself, who I found unlikeable, appears bitter for his upbringing (which sounds like it was one of immense privilege) & is insulting of people who don’t agree with his ideas (“reptile brained” being one phrase that springs to mind).
I like to read books about death, but this was less about death & more about the author’s apparent attempt to single handedly overhaul the funeral industry into something more radical. I found the talk of magic, spells (which included meditation to the point of orgasm) & rituals extremely strange.
I also cannot support someone who advocates the use of illegal drugs (MDMA) for “healing” & suggests families should use them together around the bed of a dying relative.
It’s rare for me to give a critical review of a book in this way but I found this book disturbing on so many levels. I have given it 2 stars merely because I did find the stories of some of the people in his care (of which he mentioned few) quite emotional.
I appreciate the publisher having sent me this book in exchange for an honest review.
July 15, 2022
‘Euphemisms are at the heart of what I stand against in relation to death and how we deal with it’.
This was a really compelling read about the death industry in the UK and a ‘punk undertaker’ who tried to modernise the industry and provide people with other options than are currently available or promoted through regular means. I found the author’s stories of his time at boarding school and childhood in Scotland interesting and as a Cornish person, really appreciated the focus on Cornwall. We need more people like this author and his partner in the UK death industry.
This was a really compelling read about the death industry in the UK and a ‘punk undertaker’ who tried to modernise the industry and provide people with other options than are currently available or promoted through regular means. I found the author’s stories of his time at boarding school and childhood in Scotland interesting and as a Cornish person, really appreciated the focus on Cornwall. We need more people like this author and his partner in the UK death industry.
September 30, 2024
I was interested to explore more about behind-the-scenes of stewarding death and dismantling the capitalist predation of funeral spaces. Instead, I got a repetitive memoir-style rant in a very angry and judgemental voice that didn’t work for me at all. It’s a shame because there are some good talking points (destigmatizing conversations about death, open grieving, sustainability in death rituals, the power of choice and agency) that are easily lost in the palpable anger within these pages.
There’s a woo bent that features more heavily than I would expect in a book purportedly about death: drug use, ritual magic, occult, casting spells, mythology, crop circles, living ancestors… it starts really unravelling toward the end of the book as this stuff takes center stage. Maybe it’s because I’m 20 years younger or not British but a lot of the references to stuff like “acid house” and “KLF” went totally over my head (and there’s no attempt by the author to bring people who weren’t there along).
Callender’s privilege was so hard to stomach: blowing through £700,000 in the 90s on drugs and dodgy business ventures is absolutely appalling. The picture he painted of himself and his motivation (ego project vibes) throughout the book reduced his credibility for this reader (made worse by how unselfaware, defensive, and painfully self-congratulatory it is).
I would have liked to see more (non-exploitative) exploring of different cultures’ death rituals, the psychology or science behind rituals and closure, and commentary about the environmental harm of burials, embalming, and commercialization of death. There are some ranty comments on capitalism and cherry-picked environmental comments but it was all disappointingly surface level and seemed to be based in the author’s opinion more than anything substantial. I also have doubts about some of the claims that the Callender was making about UK funerals (for example: vilifying pallbearers as paid goons. Aren’t they usually volunteers from the family?).
From a technical perspective, the book could have benefited from much tighter editing: the overall flow is clunky (what is the point of that prologue?!), the overall focus is unclear (an entire chapter where the focus shifts to obscure, dated music?!), there are sections repeated verbatim across the book, the pacing is glacial, and the tone is so angry with a noticeable amount of insensitive language choices.
Death and grief are extremely personal and individual. I shudder to think of the harm that Callender may have caused by trying to rectify/seek closure for his own trauma through gatekeeping others’ grief journeys. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve a life and remember a human; the last thing folks going through this need to feel is shamed or judged about their comfort rituals. With that in mind, I can’t in good conscience recommend this book.
I was privileged to have my request to read this book accepted by Chelsea Green Publishing through NetGalley.
There’s a woo bent that features more heavily than I would expect in a book purportedly about death: drug use, ritual magic, occult, casting spells, mythology, crop circles, living ancestors… it starts really unravelling toward the end of the book as this stuff takes center stage. Maybe it’s because I’m 20 years younger or not British but a lot of the references to stuff like “acid house” and “KLF” went totally over my head (and there’s no attempt by the author to bring people who weren’t there along).
Callender’s privilege was so hard to stomach: blowing through £700,000 in the 90s on drugs and dodgy business ventures is absolutely appalling. The picture he painted of himself and his motivation (ego project vibes) throughout the book reduced his credibility for this reader (made worse by how unselfaware, defensive, and painfully self-congratulatory it is).
I would have liked to see more (non-exploitative) exploring of different cultures’ death rituals, the psychology or science behind rituals and closure, and commentary about the environmental harm of burials, embalming, and commercialization of death. There are some ranty comments on capitalism and cherry-picked environmental comments but it was all disappointingly surface level and seemed to be based in the author’s opinion more than anything substantial. I also have doubts about some of the claims that the Callender was making about UK funerals (for example: vilifying pallbearers as paid goons. Aren’t they usually volunteers from the family?).
From a technical perspective, the book could have benefited from much tighter editing: the overall flow is clunky (what is the point of that prologue?!), the overall focus is unclear (an entire chapter where the focus shifts to obscure, dated music?!), there are sections repeated verbatim across the book, the pacing is glacial, and the tone is so angry with a noticeable amount of insensitive language choices.
Death and grief are extremely personal and individual. I shudder to think of the harm that Callender may have caused by trying to rectify/seek closure for his own trauma through gatekeeping others’ grief journeys. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve a life and remember a human; the last thing folks going through this need to feel is shamed or judged about their comfort rituals. With that in mind, I can’t in good conscience recommend this book.
I was privileged to have my request to read this book accepted by Chelsea Green Publishing through NetGalley.
November 16, 2022
Angry, arrogant, preachy, disrespectful.
November 12, 2022
I received this book from Netgally in exchange for an honest review.
Please have a look at the blurb of this one as here are my thoughts only.
Earlier this year Queen Elizabeth II died and me, as many other people around the globe, whiteness how a funeral works here in the UK, (Im not British and I was overwhelmed by the whole thing) Obviously this specific funeral wasn’t average at all, yet all the elements of the very standard funeral were present. As I was appalled by the lack of emotion and the over ceremonial of it all, I wasn’t surprised, so I decided to read this book and see if this detachment was a very normal thing here. Sad to say, it really is. But happy to know that there are people who actually cares for the bodies left behind, and the very alive people who have to deal with it.
I enjoy the back story of the author and he lead us into his own mind and paths that he took in order to become an undertaker. All the stories intertwine with the narration make this book worth a read. I wasn’t very happy with the writing style as it kind of jumps from place to place. I think I’d been better if the book was split into short stories or essays as at some point it looses its thread, then the ending seems to go for longer than it was necessary.
The digital ARC was good to read as I could synced to another device , as there are mentions of other cultures funerals and death related rituals, I got curious and downloaded the audiobook version (which I purchased) the author himself reads the book, but his pronunciation of the Spanish words could’ve been improved, his reading voice wasn’t as pleasant as you’d like on an audiobook, so I only heard parts of the audio (anything to do with Día de muertos I wanted to hear) I wouldn’t recommend the audiobook.
The topic is fascinating and his points of view weren’t easy to digest, but I love that he made me think, and his stories brought some very important issues to the table as he explains that in the UK there’s an over practicality and the emotions and bereavement are often set aside (Just like a saw on telly during the Queen’s funeral)
I highly recommend this read as a part of your own mental health, we all are gonna die, and there are things we don’t think to do (or planned too much) while we all should have a better understanding of life and death, funerals are for the living taking part on the process could really help most people getting a sense of closure.
Please have a look at the blurb of this one as here are my thoughts only.
Earlier this year Queen Elizabeth II died and me, as many other people around the globe, whiteness how a funeral works here in the UK, (Im not British and I was overwhelmed by the whole thing) Obviously this specific funeral wasn’t average at all, yet all the elements of the very standard funeral were present. As I was appalled by the lack of emotion and the over ceremonial of it all, I wasn’t surprised, so I decided to read this book and see if this detachment was a very normal thing here. Sad to say, it really is. But happy to know that there are people who actually cares for the bodies left behind, and the very alive people who have to deal with it.
I enjoy the back story of the author and he lead us into his own mind and paths that he took in order to become an undertaker. All the stories intertwine with the narration make this book worth a read. I wasn’t very happy with the writing style as it kind of jumps from place to place. I think I’d been better if the book was split into short stories or essays as at some point it looses its thread, then the ending seems to go for longer than it was necessary.
The digital ARC was good to read as I could synced to another device , as there are mentions of other cultures funerals and death related rituals, I got curious and downloaded the audiobook version (which I purchased) the author himself reads the book, but his pronunciation of the Spanish words could’ve been improved, his reading voice wasn’t as pleasant as you’d like on an audiobook, so I only heard parts of the audio (anything to do with Día de muertos I wanted to hear) I wouldn’t recommend the audiobook.
The topic is fascinating and his points of view weren’t easy to digest, but I love that he made me think, and his stories brought some very important issues to the table as he explains that in the UK there’s an over practicality and the emotions and bereavement are often set aside (Just like a saw on telly during the Queen’s funeral)
I highly recommend this read as a part of your own mental health, we all are gonna die, and there are things we don’t think to do (or planned too much) while we all should have a better understanding of life and death, funerals are for the living taking part on the process could really help most people getting a sense of closure.
October 25, 2024
DNF at 25% (audiobook)
i had such high hopes for this book and really hoped it'd provide some fresh insight into death care, but instead all i got was repetitive complaints from a man who had every privilege afforded to him and has stapled the moniker of "punk" onto himself in a feeble attempt at making him seem more down to earth.
it's a shame i felt the need to dnf this as i agree with so much of what rupert is saying when he actually refers to various social elements, including the funeral industry. but those moments feel very few and far between, leading you to wade through different versions of the same anecdotes to briefly encounter something even bordering on profound.
in short: this is a collection of essays written by a trust fund kid who should've spent more of his time in therapy rather than writing this.
i had such high hopes for this book and really hoped it'd provide some fresh insight into death care, but instead all i got was repetitive complaints from a man who had every privilege afforded to him and has stapled the moniker of "punk" onto himself in a feeble attempt at making him seem more down to earth.
it's a shame i felt the need to dnf this as i agree with so much of what rupert is saying when he actually refers to various social elements, including the funeral industry. but those moments feel very few and far between, leading you to wade through different versions of the same anecdotes to briefly encounter something even bordering on profound.
in short: this is a collection of essays written by a trust fund kid who should've spent more of his time in therapy rather than writing this.
May 13, 2025
I had high hopes for this book, having heard Rupert Callender talk about his alternative funeral arrangements, which had sparked my interest. This book, however, is boring, repetitive, disrespectful and narcissistic; and I certainly don't subscribe to his views that post traumatic mental health would be improved by the use of psychedelic drugs! My life is too short to read anymore of this drivel!!
September 14, 2022
This is my second undertaker / funeral director memoir - and it seems that as long as you can describe yourself as alternative or counterculture, there is plenty of mileage in the genre. What Remains? is very British, and the life and the rebellion contained within are themselves very British too (very restrained childhood, parental death, no grieving, years of public school bullying, independent wealth, drugs and acid-house). From how he writes and his own sense of self-awareness I have known plenty of Rupert Callenders and whilst I feel ideologically closer to him than I would most of his type, I also find that time almost uniformly annoying.
So how to separate the wheat (ideas about how to conduct funerals and grieve) from the chaff (a difficult life, the KLF). The two are weaved in and out of each other pretty seemlessly, though that is because sometimes they have something to say to each other. So I don't doubt that Callendar not being allowed to go to his own father's funeral is at the heart of his drive to make funerals inclusive. His diatribe against embalming on the other hand, because it has next to nothing of the personal in it, feels like an oasis of clarity here, where he isn't having a minor dig at our awful government or his own fucked up childhood. At the heart of it there is a romance with his partner - in work and life - Claire, which feels like a massive hole in the story as they have since split up. It seems amicable, and of course all the stories he tells of her are only complimentary, but it does create a warts and all biography with some of the warts burnt off.
Broadly I was fascinated by the content of What Remains, but the packaging didn't quite work for me. That is a personality thing, it is certainly well written and extremely informative (without replacing the DIY funeral guidebook he pimps regularly in the pages he also wrote). Its clear eyed about the role of ceremony, whatever ceremony that is, in the business of processing death, and the celebrate the good and the bad. Which is what I hope I have done here.
So how to separate the wheat (ideas about how to conduct funerals and grieve) from the chaff (a difficult life, the KLF). The two are weaved in and out of each other pretty seemlessly, though that is because sometimes they have something to say to each other. So I don't doubt that Callendar not being allowed to go to his own father's funeral is at the heart of his drive to make funerals inclusive. His diatribe against embalming on the other hand, because it has next to nothing of the personal in it, feels like an oasis of clarity here, where he isn't having a minor dig at our awful government or his own fucked up childhood. At the heart of it there is a romance with his partner - in work and life - Claire, which feels like a massive hole in the story as they have since split up. It seems amicable, and of course all the stories he tells of her are only complimentary, but it does create a warts and all biography with some of the warts burnt off.
Broadly I was fascinated by the content of What Remains, but the packaging didn't quite work for me. That is a personality thing, it is certainly well written and extremely informative (without replacing the DIY funeral guidebook he pimps regularly in the pages he also wrote). Its clear eyed about the role of ceremony, whatever ceremony that is, in the business of processing death, and the celebrate the good and the bad. Which is what I hope I have done here.
March 20, 2023
Rupert Callendar, a lifelong punk and rebel has a bone to pick with the patriarchy and he fights that battle through individual and family centered undertaking and coping with rituals such as making crop circles or building shrines What Remains? Life, Death and the Human Art of Undertaking details Callendar's life, both his biography and his work.
Callendar presents himself as a doubly traumatized individual, first by the youthful loss of his father and his not being able to take part in his funeral, and secondly, by boarding school. He willingly squandered his inherited wealth but had two key life epiphanies. The first was in an acid house party gathering where all gathered enjoyed the communal atmosphere with no barriers put in place due to differences. The second was while high and watching television, seeing an interview with Nicholas Albery sharing his experiences. Albery spoke about welcoming his son to the world around the same time his father died, spurring him to look into the legalities and eventually establish the Natural Death Centre, a charity dedicated to informing the public of their rights around funerals and the benefits of doing it yourself.
Callendar went all in on undertaking as a career, very much seat of his pants, but with the goals of speaking the truth of the deceased and building a community. The rest of the book details Callendar's growth in this field, from the early funerals to specific ones that challenged him and the creation of a partnership (and marriage) and eventually dissolution of the partnership with his ex wife Claire. A frequent counterpoint and focus of his ire is on the funerary industry as it exists in the United Kingdom. All this before a ending chapter about Callendar's part in a music/media festival with his heroes.
An angry, traumatized look at possibilities outside the standard way of death. Of most use to those in the United Kingdom. I can't say I recommend this to any readers, Alison C. Meier's Grave covers a lot of this content more succinctly.
I received a free digital version of this book via NetGalley thanks to the publisher.
Callendar presents himself as a doubly traumatized individual, first by the youthful loss of his father and his not being able to take part in his funeral, and secondly, by boarding school. He willingly squandered his inherited wealth but had two key life epiphanies. The first was in an acid house party gathering where all gathered enjoyed the communal atmosphere with no barriers put in place due to differences. The second was while high and watching television, seeing an interview with Nicholas Albery sharing his experiences. Albery spoke about welcoming his son to the world around the same time his father died, spurring him to look into the legalities and eventually establish the Natural Death Centre, a charity dedicated to informing the public of their rights around funerals and the benefits of doing it yourself.
Callendar went all in on undertaking as a career, very much seat of his pants, but with the goals of speaking the truth of the deceased and building a community. The rest of the book details Callendar's growth in this field, from the early funerals to specific ones that challenged him and the creation of a partnership (and marriage) and eventually dissolution of the partnership with his ex wife Claire. A frequent counterpoint and focus of his ire is on the funerary industry as it exists in the United Kingdom. All this before a ending chapter about Callendar's part in a music/media festival with his heroes.
An angry, traumatized look at possibilities outside the standard way of death. Of most use to those in the United Kingdom. I can't say I recommend this to any readers, Alison C. Meier's Grave covers a lot of this content more succinctly.
I received a free digital version of this book via NetGalley thanks to the publisher.
August 7, 2022
There are books that come along that make you feel they have made you a better person by opening up your self to other ways of thinking this is one of those books . It’s hard to put into words how truly wonderful this book is part memoir , part critique of mainstream death industry ,part musical anthem to 90’s rave culture and part performance art/death ritual creator. . Mostly it’s the voice of the author which is never morbid and opens up so many questions about living as much as dying in regards to loss and what it means to live .
This book changed my mind in the use of hallucinogens as a therapy tool and to consider life without God and what it still means to leave a legacy . Truly remarkable thank you NetGalley for the pleasure of reading this amazing book . Thank you to the author for sharing so much of the beauty of his life formed from trauma .
This book changed my mind in the use of hallucinogens as a therapy tool and to consider life without God and what it still means to leave a legacy . Truly remarkable thank you NetGalley for the pleasure of reading this amazing book . Thank you to the author for sharing so much of the beauty of his life formed from trauma .
September 3, 2022
This is the memoir of an unconventional, to say the least, undertaker. When we first meet the author he is engaged in making crop circles in nearby fields and nearing burnout. Rupert, Ru for short, was 29, a Trustafarian who had burned through his inheritance from his mother on dodgy schemes and even dodgier friends. He had spent the ‘90’s in acid culture and raves and was wondering what next? Where does a love of 90’s raves take you in life? Strangely enough he decides to become an undertaker.
The book then goes onto the unexpected death of his father from a heart attack when Ru was 7 and then him being sent away to boarding school. He obviously hated it. And then it takes the reader through his life and how he inherited a lot of money from his mother hence his becoming a Trustafarian and how his lifestyle climaxed in his decision. He also discusses his mother’s involvement with the emerging hospice movement in the ‘70’s which incredibly were a ‘hard sell.’ This was due to a combination of the Calvinist view of suffering being humanity’s lot and that doctors should never give up on people.
This book records the ramifications of his decision, the people that he met along the way who decided to use his services which consisted of an ageing Volvo and a stretcher and how he managed to bring death and mourning back to a more family and community celebration or ritual. In other words, not to fear the dead. They are still your nearest and dearest but in a different state. I remember visiting the undertaker to see my mother and thinking ‘It’s not her.’ While knowing that it was. The old rituals of washing the body, dressing it, the coffin lying in the front room have all gone and there isn’t that personal connection to death. It’s all manged for you. But, as he says, ‘Why would you allow this to be done by someone else?’ It’s the last thing you can do for the person you are burying.’ He wanted to increase family involvement but there will always be those who can’t or don’t want this but then they wouldn’t come to him anyway.
Death is the final ritual that comes to our loved ones and ourselves, maybe at the end of a long life well lived or because of a traumatic event and it can feel like being processed with no personal contact. Most of us go to a high street funeral as there seems nowhere else to go but it does feel as if the funeral process is being managed and taken out of our hands. Some people are happy with this, but others are not. Also, it can feel so sad when still reeling from the death of a loved one to be looking at coffins.
But there are more alternatives available today these days; Humanist minsters, woodland burials – I attended one funeral where the body arrived in a wicker basket and was taken out of a white Transit van. They make the death and the burial more personal and less of a conveyor belt.
And that’s what Rupert, Ru for short, Callender, the author, is trying to do, to de mystify the whole mystery the whole mystery that leads up to the curtains fluttering shut as they swallow your loved one. He is known as ‘the punk undertaker’ and as he says in the Patti Smith quote which he references several times in the book ‘People have the Power.’ He also says that ‘Death is not my friend neither is it my enemy. It is my destiny.’
Some parts may not be for the squeamish such as the chapter on the embalming process and the environmental hazards of cremation which I hadn’t considered.
He also references books such as Jessica Mitford’s ‘The American Way of Death’ which had a lot to say about the US funeral trade and its practices.
But there is humour; admittedly bible black in nature, but it made me smile. As he was establishing himself as an undertaker, Ru did some PR with a couple of local papers which resulted in a photo of him ‘wearing a dark suit with the Oxford Book of Death tucked under my arm, a strange comic hybrid of Walt Whitman and Gomez Adams.’ Later when he acquires a partner Claire, both business and personal.’ they were featured in various publications and had ‘taken to posing like a moody post-punk synth duo.’
There’s a definite air of the shaman about Ru in the way that he conducts ceremonies and encourages mourners to do it their way. His funerals sounded more like ceremonies, a fitting send off. And then there was his involvement with Bill Drummond and Jimmy Cauty of the legendary KLF and the Toxteth Day of the Dead and the Boney Pyramid….
It was a fascinating book but at times it was a difficult read. An alternative view of funerals and the final ritual by someone who has taken another path. It was also a surreal read….
I loved the descriptions of the crop circles that he created and how these ‘temporary temples’ made him feel and the shamanistic element of what he was doing re appears throughout the book as he becomes almost a master of ceremonies at funerals. Especially towards the ned when he describes the funerals held at Sharpden’s, the natural burial place that he established near Dartington Hall. There is a section on the symbolism of crop circles as ‘they are symbolic tunnels to the underworld.’ And ‘pinholes through a burial shroud inexplicably releasing beams of light.’
This book won’t be for everyone, but I enjoyed reading it.
My thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for an ARC.
August 25, 2022
Thanks to NetGalley and Chelsea Green for the advanced copy of this title in return for an honest review.
I’ve experienced my fair share of grief and funerals in my time, particularly in the last 5-6 years, but I’ve never really given much thought to the undertakers beyond them just being there to do their job, so this was a fascinating read for me.
It’s not a perfect book - I’ll get to that - but it is seriously powerful, and you’re swept up in such emotion reading it.
There’s more to Rupert’s background than I thought there’d be, probably the first 25%, and at first I thought perhaps it was verging on too much, but considering the next three quarters is full on undertaking it made sense to give some context to his career decision.
Some of his beliefs, some of the ways he works, are not for me. But who am I to say they’re not for anyone else? I’ve been to church funerals, burials, cremations, spiritual and humanist. And whilst they may not have all been what I would have wanted, they’re always perfect for the person in question, and I think Rupert has done a really good job and expressing the humanity side to death.
To me, undertakers are very polite, but quiet, professional and stoic individuals who help make a terrible day go as smoothly as it can. They show respect and they swallow their own feelings on the day. They don’t seem to get affected by the continuous death. They become symbols of death and of the funeral industry, rather than as individuals, and I think that’s where Rupert is trying to change things. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like a polite man, professional, caring, stoic in the presence of grief (I haven’t met him so he may not be any of these things at all but I hope he is), but he reminds us that undertakers and funeral parlour employees, and priests and celebrants are all human, and working hand-in-hand with death on a daily basis will of course have a huge toll on them, but it also gives them a huge understanding of bereavement.
I found the section about suicide incredibly moving. Like I sad, I’ve experienced a lot of death in the last few years, old, young, middle aged, men, women, dementia, cancer, pneumonia - but the one that will always stick with me is the one by suicide. And Rupert was so tender and respectful that it was almost too moving to read.
I liked his idea that death and funerals can be uplifting and, almost funny. My dad’s funeral 5 years ago when he was jut 57 and I was 24 was a fun event. Sure it had the hearse and undertaker and the songs and whatnot. But it wasn’t religious. For the reflection part, we encouraged everyone to sing Frank Sinatra’s My Way as loud and as badly as they could, and we all left the room to Monty Python’s Always Look On The Bright Side of Life. We then had a wake where lots of alcohol was drink and memories shared and it was a really fun day. For someone who hasn’t experienced death, that might be horrendous to read. But it really was. Granted, I’d have preferred if he was still alive and the funeral and wake were not needed, but we can’t control that. We can only control what we did, and we decided to have fun.
He’s a very sensitive writer, aware that whilst he beliefs in doing things a certain way, he understands that the whole grieving journey is difficult. He’s been very respectful around the case studies. He doesn’t give us too much information for us to identify the bereaved families, but just enough so we can empathise. He doesn’t beat around the bush or sugar coat things. Death is an ugly business but it is something none of us will avoid. It’s not for the faint hearted, but it’s important to know.
My one negative, and it’s going to sound really juvenile, is his use of big words. Now, I am a linguist. I write and edit for a living. But I found myself on several occasions having to stop mid sentence in order to look up a word so I could make sense of it. And it wasn’t for overly industry-standard words or technical terms. I would have accepted that. But complicated language had been used when I feel simpler words would have aided the flow of reading.
My mum couldn’t understand why I wanted to read this book, given the amount of grief we’ve experienced, that it must be depressing and morbid and upsetting. Yes it’s depressing. Yes it’s morbid. Yes it’s upsetting. At times. But it is also joyful. And loving. And hopeful.
I’ve experienced my fair share of grief and funerals in my time, particularly in the last 5-6 years, but I’ve never really given much thought to the undertakers beyond them just being there to do their job, so this was a fascinating read for me.
It’s not a perfect book - I’ll get to that - but it is seriously powerful, and you’re swept up in such emotion reading it.
There’s more to Rupert’s background than I thought there’d be, probably the first 25%, and at first I thought perhaps it was verging on too much, but considering the next three quarters is full on undertaking it made sense to give some context to his career decision.
Some of his beliefs, some of the ways he works, are not for me. But who am I to say they’re not for anyone else? I’ve been to church funerals, burials, cremations, spiritual and humanist. And whilst they may not have all been what I would have wanted, they’re always perfect for the person in question, and I think Rupert has done a really good job and expressing the humanity side to death.
To me, undertakers are very polite, but quiet, professional and stoic individuals who help make a terrible day go as smoothly as it can. They show respect and they swallow their own feelings on the day. They don’t seem to get affected by the continuous death. They become symbols of death and of the funeral industry, rather than as individuals, and I think that’s where Rupert is trying to change things. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like a polite man, professional, caring, stoic in the presence of grief (I haven’t met him so he may not be any of these things at all but I hope he is), but he reminds us that undertakers and funeral parlour employees, and priests and celebrants are all human, and working hand-in-hand with death on a daily basis will of course have a huge toll on them, but it also gives them a huge understanding of bereavement.
I found the section about suicide incredibly moving. Like I sad, I’ve experienced a lot of death in the last few years, old, young, middle aged, men, women, dementia, cancer, pneumonia - but the one that will always stick with me is the one by suicide. And Rupert was so tender and respectful that it was almost too moving to read.
I liked his idea that death and funerals can be uplifting and, almost funny. My dad’s funeral 5 years ago when he was jut 57 and I was 24 was a fun event. Sure it had the hearse and undertaker and the songs and whatnot. But it wasn’t religious. For the reflection part, we encouraged everyone to sing Frank Sinatra’s My Way as loud and as badly as they could, and we all left the room to Monty Python’s Always Look On The Bright Side of Life. We then had a wake where lots of alcohol was drink and memories shared and it was a really fun day. For someone who hasn’t experienced death, that might be horrendous to read. But it really was. Granted, I’d have preferred if he was still alive and the funeral and wake were not needed, but we can’t control that. We can only control what we did, and we decided to have fun.
He’s a very sensitive writer, aware that whilst he beliefs in doing things a certain way, he understands that the whole grieving journey is difficult. He’s been very respectful around the case studies. He doesn’t give us too much information for us to identify the bereaved families, but just enough so we can empathise. He doesn’t beat around the bush or sugar coat things. Death is an ugly business but it is something none of us will avoid. It’s not for the faint hearted, but it’s important to know.
My one negative, and it’s going to sound really juvenile, is his use of big words. Now, I am a linguist. I write and edit for a living. But I found myself on several occasions having to stop mid sentence in order to look up a word so I could make sense of it. And it wasn’t for overly industry-standard words or technical terms. I would have accepted that. But complicated language had been used when I feel simpler words would have aided the flow of reading.
My mum couldn’t understand why I wanted to read this book, given the amount of grief we’ve experienced, that it must be depressing and morbid and upsetting. Yes it’s depressing. Yes it’s morbid. Yes it’s upsetting. At times. But it is also joyful. And loving. And hopeful.
March 22, 2023
What Remains? Life, Death and the Human Art of Undertaking by Rupert Callender #sixteenthbookof2023 #arc
CW: discussions of death, dead bodies, the embalming process, mention of aliens, crop circles
The author of this book is the founder of the Green Funeral Company. He is a self proclaimed punk undertaker. While he himself is afraid of death, he attempts to make funerals more about the deceased and less about the ceremony of traditional funeral services.
I expected a little more from this book. Callender talked in circles a lot, repeating the same facts, phrases, and quotes. He starts off talking about the death of his father and how he was sent to boarding school immediately following his not being allowed to attend his father’s funeral. This series of events traumatized him so much that he speaks of little else. He doesn’t begin talking about the undertaking until 30% in. There’s no real heft to this book. There are only a handful of anecdotes describing his new type of funerals. He talks so much about how punk he is that it’s difficult to believe him.
At one point he describes a funeral for a local homeless man, and says of a speech he gives after carrying the coffin through town, “I am a little preachy, but a good funeral should be anyway.” This is completely contrary to everything he’d been saying in the book till that point. It was gross how he’d used that funeral to rail against the society evil of gambling that this homeless man had as a vice during his life when the rest of the book discussed how funerals should be about the deceased, not a preachy sermon.
The author lives in the UK and references the fact that undertakers have very few regulations, unlike the US. I’m curious whether his type of funerals would be legal here. The book does make me want to explore options where I live to see what kind of burial would be possible. I will say that his description of how embalming is done really turned me off that procedure. If given the choice I wouldn’t choose it for myself or for anyone who’s funeral I’m planning.
Thank you to @netgalley and @chelseagreenbooks for the advance copy. (Pub date 3/23/23)
CW: discussions of death, dead bodies, the embalming process, mention of aliens, crop circles
The author of this book is the founder of the Green Funeral Company. He is a self proclaimed punk undertaker. While he himself is afraid of death, he attempts to make funerals more about the deceased and less about the ceremony of traditional funeral services.
I expected a little more from this book. Callender talked in circles a lot, repeating the same facts, phrases, and quotes. He starts off talking about the death of his father and how he was sent to boarding school immediately following his not being allowed to attend his father’s funeral. This series of events traumatized him so much that he speaks of little else. He doesn’t begin talking about the undertaking until 30% in. There’s no real heft to this book. There are only a handful of anecdotes describing his new type of funerals. He talks so much about how punk he is that it’s difficult to believe him.
At one point he describes a funeral for a local homeless man, and says of a speech he gives after carrying the coffin through town, “I am a little preachy, but a good funeral should be anyway.” This is completely contrary to everything he’d been saying in the book till that point. It was gross how he’d used that funeral to rail against the society evil of gambling that this homeless man had as a vice during his life when the rest of the book discussed how funerals should be about the deceased, not a preachy sermon.
The author lives in the UK and references the fact that undertakers have very few regulations, unlike the US. I’m curious whether his type of funerals would be legal here. The book does make me want to explore options where I live to see what kind of burial would be possible. I will say that his description of how embalming is done really turned me off that procedure. If given the choice I wouldn’t choose it for myself or for anyone who’s funeral I’m planning.
Thank you to @netgalley and @chelseagreenbooks for the advance copy. (Pub date 3/23/23)
October 4, 2024
This is - in short - one of the greatest books I have ever read. I feel changed by this book. Beyond moved.
Have you ever wondered what would happen if a (former) acid houser became an undertaker? This book answers this rather unusual question.
He has been described as the best funeral director in the United Kingdom. He prefers the word 'undertaker.' He undertakes to care for the dead with the living.
Probing his own 'mismanaged grief', he applied, "the lessons of punk and acid house, and its do-it-yourself ethos, to shake up the stilted funeral industry at the beginning of the twenty-first century”
Self taught, he graduated "from the University of Death." He described in great detail how it feels - how it is - to be "the last person on this earth to see someone's face."
This is not (only) a book about death. Or about life. It is about a different kind of loss: "we are all culpable for the slow, lazy drift away from meaning."
His project therefore was, "the re-imagining of how we serve the living by dealing with the dead."
This book is transcendent. There are other books fighting to get out of this monograph on death. There is a book on masculinity. A book on industrial alienation. A book on strong women and the cost of that strength.
But, in the end, this is a book about endings. And new beginnings. As Callender states, "People die, but relationships don’t. They change, but they are still relationships and remain so until we ourselves die.”
My only advice is read this book before you die. It will change your relationships. Including the relationship with yourself.
Have you ever wondered what would happen if a (former) acid houser became an undertaker? This book answers this rather unusual question.
He has been described as the best funeral director in the United Kingdom. He prefers the word 'undertaker.' He undertakes to care for the dead with the living.
Probing his own 'mismanaged grief', he applied, "the lessons of punk and acid house, and its do-it-yourself ethos, to shake up the stilted funeral industry at the beginning of the twenty-first century”
Self taught, he graduated "from the University of Death." He described in great detail how it feels - how it is - to be "the last person on this earth to see someone's face."
This is not (only) a book about death. Or about life. It is about a different kind of loss: "we are all culpable for the slow, lazy drift away from meaning."
His project therefore was, "the re-imagining of how we serve the living by dealing with the dead."
This book is transcendent. There are other books fighting to get out of this monograph on death. There is a book on masculinity. A book on industrial alienation. A book on strong women and the cost of that strength.
But, in the end, this is a book about endings. And new beginnings. As Callender states, "People die, but relationships don’t. They change, but they are still relationships and remain so until we ourselves die.”
My only advice is read this book before you die. It will change your relationships. Including the relationship with yourself.
October 28, 2024
I found this to be quite an emotional, at times, and thought provoking book. I'm sure it will push the buttons of many for not being so 'conventional', and I didn't agree with all the points he made, but I appreciated his honesty and I like reading different viewpoints and this book is definitely full of them!
The author has been on quite a ride of a life, and shares in detail the ups and many downs, and how he came to the world of undertaking in the first place. And he wanted to do things differently so explores the pros and cons of the funeral industry and how he and his partner Claire, wanted to try something different, which put him at odds with the way the 'business' of funerals are undertaken (no pun intended!) but he was adamant that different viewpoints and experiences could be given to the grieving families.
Some of his experiences with the deceased I found to be quite touching, as he summed up the different feelings he felt at times and how he needed to find a release for the pent up emotions that he often felt, which could have come from his childhood experiences too. He's very frank with his opinions, and some of the stories he shares did go over my head a little with their relevance to his life now, but overall I found it to be a book that I wanted to keep reading as he'd led such a unconventional life which had shaped his viewpoint now.
My thanks to Chelsea Green for the advanced reader copy in return for a fair and honest review.
The author has been on quite a ride of a life, and shares in detail the ups and many downs, and how he came to the world of undertaking in the first place. And he wanted to do things differently so explores the pros and cons of the funeral industry and how he and his partner Claire, wanted to try something different, which put him at odds with the way the 'business' of funerals are undertaken (no pun intended!) but he was adamant that different viewpoints and experiences could be given to the grieving families.
Some of his experiences with the deceased I found to be quite touching, as he summed up the different feelings he felt at times and how he needed to find a release for the pent up emotions that he often felt, which could have come from his childhood experiences too. He's very frank with his opinions, and some of the stories he shares did go over my head a little with their relevance to his life now, but overall I found it to be a book that I wanted to keep reading as he'd led such a unconventional life which had shaped his viewpoint now.
My thanks to Chelsea Green for the advanced reader copy in return for a fair and honest review.
November 11, 2022
“What Remains: Life, Death and the Human Art of Undertaking,” by Ru Callender, published date: 23 March 2023, ISBN 9781915294128 and Kindle Edition, earns three stars.
If the average reader is like me, little is known of undertaking. We may have been involved with the last rites of a family member, but the funeral industry does their best to insulate families from the details of their business, if not also the funeral and memorial service specifics. So, in reading this book, one learns much, some of it quite surprising. For me, the biggest surprise was how little the industry is regulated in England, where the author lives and works. I have no idea how similar or different the funeral industry is in the United States.
The interesting thing with this book is the author, Rupert (Ru) Callender is, according to his Green Funeral Company website, “…a self-taught ceremonial undertaker and writer who has worked in Devon and Cornwall since 1999. His partner is Claire Burton, making the multi-award-winning Green Funeral Company fully a two-person operation. Simple, honest, and compassionate, they make funerals as much a part of living as life itself. It is a fascinating read and perhaps may make the reader thinking differently about funeral arrangements in the United States.
Sincere thanks to the author, and Kindle Edition (PDF) and Chelsea Green Publishing
for granting this reviewer the opportunity to read this Advance Reader Copy (ARC), and thanks to NetGalley for helping to make that possible.
If the average reader is like me, little is known of undertaking. We may have been involved with the last rites of a family member, but the funeral industry does their best to insulate families from the details of their business, if not also the funeral and memorial service specifics. So, in reading this book, one learns much, some of it quite surprising. For me, the biggest surprise was how little the industry is regulated in England, where the author lives and works. I have no idea how similar or different the funeral industry is in the United States.
The interesting thing with this book is the author, Rupert (Ru) Callender is, according to his Green Funeral Company website, “…a self-taught ceremonial undertaker and writer who has worked in Devon and Cornwall since 1999. His partner is Claire Burton, making the multi-award-winning Green Funeral Company fully a two-person operation. Simple, honest, and compassionate, they make funerals as much a part of living as life itself. It is a fascinating read and perhaps may make the reader thinking differently about funeral arrangements in the United States.
Sincere thanks to the author, and Kindle Edition (PDF) and Chelsea Green Publishing
for granting this reviewer the opportunity to read this Advance Reader Copy (ARC), and thanks to NetGalley for helping to make that possible.
March 24, 2023
When I started working in a healthcare facility 30 plus years ago, the dead and dying were treated quietly and ceremoniously ( hushed tones, slow moving family members.) it was solemn and expected that it was terrible that a person had died. In other words it would have been appalling to the community if a life was celebrated any means other than solemn , quiet funerals.
Then I expected that. But, as time marches on you learn things. And you know what? People die! Everyday. It is our natural end of life with exception of course of those who die suddenly or young, we ordinarily expect to live until an older age and then we die. No exceptions.
So why do we continue with the maudlin rituals of the modern funeral? Partly religion, partly the history of funerals and family expectations and more..
Working in healthcare made me realize that while the death of a person is almost always a sad event, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be glad for the life, the person they were!
This book was written by a European undertaker who became a staunch defender of a personalized version of the funeral experience.created his own service and cared for a great number of families.
The author takes a long road to get to the points of this book but it is still a solid, quality read. Maybe American funeral directors should take a look.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for this ARC.
Then I expected that. But, as time marches on you learn things. And you know what? People die! Everyday. It is our natural end of life with exception of course of those who die suddenly or young, we ordinarily expect to live until an older age and then we die. No exceptions.
So why do we continue with the maudlin rituals of the modern funeral? Partly religion, partly the history of funerals and family expectations and more..
Working in healthcare made me realize that while the death of a person is almost always a sad event, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be glad for the life, the person they were!
This book was written by a European undertaker who became a staunch defender of a personalized version of the funeral experience.created his own service and cared for a great number of families.
The author takes a long road to get to the points of this book but it is still a solid, quality read. Maybe American funeral directors should take a look.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for this ARC.
September 29, 2022
Rounded up to 3.5 stars
I have to say first off, this isn't a book that I would have necessarily chosen for myself. I was kindly provided a copy by the publishers.
This is I guess the memoir of Rupert Callender, a man who considers himself to be a 'punk' undertaker.
Intriguing is my initial thoughts on the book.
We are taken on a journey through Rupert's life, whilst getting a more detailed look at the industry of death and funerals.
Whilst not entirely my cup of tea, I found this book to be insightful and compelling in places. Seeming to embrace both the thoughts of life and death equally, it gave a view of something I knew very little about to start with that came across as sensitively done.
I had no idea that there was such a choice when it came to saying goodbye to a loved one and in a world that is trying its best to look after its environment, it was refreshing to see even in this industry that there are eco-friendly options available.
It is all rather fascinating.
From the words written I could tell that Rupert is passionate about what he does and is a spirited person and through his own life experiences, he has gained a lot of knowledge about death and what it means to others.
Well worth a read.
I have to say first off, this isn't a book that I would have necessarily chosen for myself. I was kindly provided a copy by the publishers.
This is I guess the memoir of Rupert Callender, a man who considers himself to be a 'punk' undertaker.
Intriguing is my initial thoughts on the book.
We are taken on a journey through Rupert's life, whilst getting a more detailed look at the industry of death and funerals.
Whilst not entirely my cup of tea, I found this book to be insightful and compelling in places. Seeming to embrace both the thoughts of life and death equally, it gave a view of something I knew very little about to start with that came across as sensitively done.
I had no idea that there was such a choice when it came to saying goodbye to a loved one and in a world that is trying its best to look after its environment, it was refreshing to see even in this industry that there are eco-friendly options available.
It is all rather fascinating.
From the words written I could tell that Rupert is passionate about what he does and is a spirited person and through his own life experiences, he has gained a lot of knowledge about death and what it means to others.
Well worth a read.
October 31, 2024
Oh gosh.... this book. I had high hopes for What Remains and definitely went into it expecting something totally different to what I actually got. I certainly wasn't expecting a preachy, rambling, self indulgent angry rant from the author for the majority of the book. I understand that Callender wanted to explain why he came to view death and the funeral industry as he does but he goes way, WAY too far and at times, what feels like, massively off topic. I think the purpose of the book was to give readers insight into a different side of the funeral industry and show that there are other non-traditional options out there but honestly, if I hadn't already been set on having a natural funeral from my own previous research and reading then I really believe that Callender would have put me right off the idea. He comes across as a self absorbed, righteous know it all who would judge my family and their beliefs / decisions (and he openly admits to doing this in the book if they don't stand up to his own standards).
This book was really missing the humanity aspect, the people and the stories that would show readers how a natural funeral could work and the joy / peace it can bring. The odd glimpses into these stories were heartwarming and interesting. The rest could have been edited out.
Thank you to NetGalley and the Publisher for a copy of this book in return for an honest review.
This book was really missing the humanity aspect, the people and the stories that would show readers how a natural funeral could work and the joy / peace it can bring. The odd glimpses into these stories were heartwarming and interesting. The rest could have been edited out.
Thank you to NetGalley and the Publisher for a copy of this book in return for an honest review.
March 20, 2023
This is a memoir of sorts. It covers the life of Rupert Callandar, a holistic undertaker in the UK, the epiphany that led to him becoming an undertaker and some of various experiences he has had in his work, and the toll that it takes in every aspect of one’s life to live in the presence of death, constantly.I have some mixed feelings on this one. On the one hand, this is a really interesting line of work. I mean to be in the line of burial preparation is definitely unique and is certainly not for everyone. It takes a special kind of person to do such things. On the other hand there are certain things discussed in this book, like ritual drug use and some really strange rituals, that are a little bit head scratchers for me. Maybe I’m just not evolved enough yet to understand such things. I think the world needs more people Like Rupert. He does make it quite clear that the line of work that he was chosen is not an easy one to live with and it has been both rewarding in experiences and costly in what it takes from you. This may not appeal to everyone. Thank you to Netgalley for the copy in exchange for an honest review.
November 23, 2024
This book is very unusual but very enjoyable.
It’s a memoir of the author, Rupert Callender, and details why he decided to become an undertaker. He describes his philosophy on the undertaking business and how he would like the Undertaker's role to change and be viewed. He believes that Undertakers should take more of a less traditional role with the loved ones of the person who has died as they navigate the initial days after the person has passed. He would like Undertakers to help the loved ones left behind by spending more time with them and helping them navigate through the loss and grief.
Rupert takes the reader through his life, from the loss of his parents, being sent to a boarding school as a young boy, to his thoughts and experiences of death, from being the one who has lost loved ones to the time he has spent with others who are grieving. He beautifully sets out why we should all rethink our own feelings and fears about life, death, and the experience of the end of life.
Although it is written about a very sad event that we all must go through, this beautiful book is also thought-provoking, sad, inspiring and sometimes funny.
It’s a memoir of the author, Rupert Callender, and details why he decided to become an undertaker. He describes his philosophy on the undertaking business and how he would like the Undertaker's role to change and be viewed. He believes that Undertakers should take more of a less traditional role with the loved ones of the person who has died as they navigate the initial days after the person has passed. He would like Undertakers to help the loved ones left behind by spending more time with them and helping them navigate through the loss and grief.
Rupert takes the reader through his life, from the loss of his parents, being sent to a boarding school as a young boy, to his thoughts and experiences of death, from being the one who has lost loved ones to the time he has spent with others who are grieving. He beautifully sets out why we should all rethink our own feelings and fears about life, death, and the experience of the end of life.
Although it is written about a very sad event that we all must go through, this beautiful book is also thought-provoking, sad, inspiring and sometimes funny.
October 1, 2022
Thanks to NetGalley and Chelsea Green Publishing for the ARC.
This book was not what I expected, but I found plenty of thought-fodder in it anyway.
While there are descriptions of some of the funerals Rupert arranged, and an impassioned critique of the death industry the book is as much an autobiography as it is a book about undertaking. Rupert dives deep into his own psyche, examining his early experiences with death, with the oppressive environment of boarding school, and with the hospice his mother campaigned for.
There are plenty of gems in there, lines I highlighted and will go back to, but lets be honest, he does ramble. There are parts that went way over my head (the KLF: I think you had to be there) and parts that really resonated with me (the natural cemetery up on the hill, the rituals).
All in all I did really enjoy this, but if you choose to read it be prepared to go on a journey with Ru and death as your companions and have absolutely no idea where you’re going.
This book was not what I expected, but I found plenty of thought-fodder in it anyway.
While there are descriptions of some of the funerals Rupert arranged, and an impassioned critique of the death industry the book is as much an autobiography as it is a book about undertaking. Rupert dives deep into his own psyche, examining his early experiences with death, with the oppressive environment of boarding school, and with the hospice his mother campaigned for.
There are plenty of gems in there, lines I highlighted and will go back to, but lets be honest, he does ramble. There are parts that went way over my head (the KLF: I think you had to be there) and parts that really resonated with me (the natural cemetery up on the hill, the rituals).
All in all I did really enjoy this, but if you choose to read it be prepared to go on a journey with Ru and death as your companions and have absolutely no idea where you’re going.
September 6, 2022
read thanks to netgallery
keywords: Death, undertaking, autobiography, life, 90s
In short: A good, unusual read about an important career that is not talked about enough.Heart tugging and emotional.
Full review
This is my first try of Rupert Callender and his unusual look at life and death make for a book you wont be able to put down.
We travel through Roberts life from boarding school, to schemes, money issues, acid and his feeling about life and how those leaving whether young or old should pass to the next stage after life.
This is a fascinating, emotional read about a very unique take on a very serious, traditional job. This book is something I think everyone should read as it not only tugs on the heartstrings but makes the reader think and see things from a different perspective.
keywords: Death, undertaking, autobiography, life, 90s
In short: A good, unusual read about an important career that is not talked about enough.Heart tugging and emotional.
Full review
This is my first try of Rupert Callender and his unusual look at life and death make for a book you wont be able to put down.
We travel through Roberts life from boarding school, to schemes, money issues, acid and his feeling about life and how those leaving whether young or old should pass to the next stage after life.
This is a fascinating, emotional read about a very unique take on a very serious, traditional job. This book is something I think everyone should read as it not only tugs on the heartstrings but makes the reader think and see things from a different perspective.
September 11, 2022
I received a free e-arc of this book through Netgalley.
I've been reading a lot of books about death in the last 3 years when my sister became terminally ill. I like to investigate other peoples' perspectives around death and dying. There is still so much that is taboo about death. This memoir from Rupert Callender is about trying to lift the taboo and mystery around death and burials and accept it for the normal part of life that it is.
Rupert is in the U.K. so it was interesting to compare how the system is there compared to the U.S. where I live. I didn't realize that 75% of people in the U.K. choose cremation. This book made me tear up several times probably. He makes some good points about the war on drugs being a racial divide as well since alcohol is much more destructive, but is considered acceptable.
I've been reading a lot of books about death in the last 3 years when my sister became terminally ill. I like to investigate other peoples' perspectives around death and dying. There is still so much that is taboo about death. This memoir from Rupert Callender is about trying to lift the taboo and mystery around death and burials and accept it for the normal part of life that it is.
Rupert is in the U.K. so it was interesting to compare how the system is there compared to the U.S. where I live. I didn't realize that 75% of people in the U.K. choose cremation. This book made me tear up several times probably. He makes some good points about the war on drugs being a racial divide as well since alcohol is much more destructive, but is considered acceptable.
December 17, 2022
As a morbid realist who is generally fascinated by the entire death care industry, it's not surprising that I enjoyed this book but not in the ways that I expected. Contrary to many of his counterparts I enjoy, Callender is not part of the "death positive" movement. Not only is he not part of it, he openly dislikes and fears death.
Callender outlines his backstory and reasonings for his discomfort in detail so that you can understand his position, then fills the reader in on how his unique funeral home and body of work have come to be.
For me, his position on the issues with the traditional funeral industry and his vision for what is possible is where our views meet perfectly and this was my favourite part of the book. To hear of the beautiful, thoughtful and personal services he provided to the families in his care is what I hope the industry can lean into in the future.
Callender outlines his backstory and reasonings for his discomfort in detail so that you can understand his position, then fills the reader in on how his unique funeral home and body of work have come to be.
For me, his position on the issues with the traditional funeral industry and his vision for what is possible is where our views meet perfectly and this was my favourite part of the book. To hear of the beautiful, thoughtful and personal services he provided to the families in his care is what I hope the industry can lean into in the future.
October 6, 2024
Did not expect this book to be the page-turner it was. I downloaded the ARC as soon as I saw I was approved for it and just wanted to take a peek at the first few pages, I did not just read the first few pages.
Yes, I am fascinated with death. I have always been this morbid, if that is the kind of word you want to label my fascination with. I've read several books by medical examiners, spiritual books about death and what may lie behind it, but never have I read a book written by an undertaker before. It was so interesting to read about why and how Rupert Callender became an undertaker. His, and his partner's journey, is as unique as they are and as unique as each of the funerals they have taken care of. I am in awe at how they established themselves and am honestly hoping I can find a similar service for when my time comes.
Yes, I am fascinated with death. I have always been this morbid, if that is the kind of word you want to label my fascination with. I've read several books by medical examiners, spiritual books about death and what may lie behind it, but never have I read a book written by an undertaker before. It was so interesting to read about why and how Rupert Callender became an undertaker. His, and his partner's journey, is as unique as they are and as unique as each of the funerals they have taken care of. I am in awe at how they established themselves and am honestly hoping I can find a similar service for when my time comes.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 63 reviews