Introduction
Summary of the Book Death’s Summer Coat by Brandy Schillace. Before moving forward, let’s take a quick look at the book. Death is an undeniable part of human existence, yet it remains a topic we often shy away from. In different times and places, people have invented countless ways to face, remember, and even celebrate life’s final chapter. From preparing for a good death by putting your affairs in order, to taking unsettling yet meaningful Memento Mori photographs, history is filled with attempts to soften death’s sting. Some cultures invited death into the heart of the family home, while others turned it into a spectacle of scientific study. Today, we experiment with unusual funerals and digital tributes that challenge our old definitions. This book’s journey through varied customs and beliefs encourages readers to look at death differently. Perhaps, by learning from these practices, we can find more gentle, honest, and comforting ways to understand and accept the inevitable.
Chapter 1: Understanding Why the Human Mind Struggles to Classify the Reality of Death.
From the earliest moments of our lives, our minds begin to build categories. We separate colors, shapes, animals, and objects, placing them into mental boxes so that the world makes sense. We naturally create labels that help us tell living things apart from lifeless objects, allowing us to feel secure and confident in our surroundings. But when it comes to death, our well-organized mental system stumbles. Death is a tricky concept that refuses to fit neatly into a known category. It is not simply an animal, object, or moment in time. Instead, it sits at the edge of our understanding, both a sudden event that stops life in its tracks and a long, creeping process that follows us as we age. Since our minds work hard to make sense of everything we encounter, the uncategorized puzzle of death makes us anxious, uneasy, and uncertain.
Part of this confusion stems from how our brains, whether sighted or blind from birth, develop neural pathways dedicated to sorting things into understandable groups. Researchers have shown that people who cannot see still form mental categories that mirror those formed by those who rely on vision. This means the urge to categorize is hardwired into our brains, shaping how we interpret everything. Normally, categories calm us. They allow us to label a barking creature as a dog, or a wooden object that drives nails as a hammer. Death, however, resists these comforting labels. It is an invisible process that we sense but cannot neatly file away. The discomfort we feel when thinking about death has roots in this endless search for a mental box that can hold it, a search that never quite ends.
As time passes, death both waits at life’s finish line and simultaneously unfolds in our day-to-day existence. This duality is strange. On one hand, we know that one day our hearts will stop beating. On the other hand, we also realize that parts of us are constantly dying and renewing—like skin cells that shed and drift into dust, or hair cells that fall out and regrow. This ongoing cycle is subtle, but it reminds us that pieces of our bodies die while we continue living, blurring the line we try to draw between alive and dead. We are forced to acknowledge that death is neither purely an endpoint nor strictly a process—rather, it’s an unsettling mix of both, making it too fluid to easily categorize.
This uncertainty makes many of us uncomfortable, so we often push thoughts of mortality aside, hoping that ignoring them will keep anxiety at bay. We celebrate births happily and publicly because birth clearly fits into our sense of order: it’s the start of a life story. Death, however, we treat quietly, even secretly. We prefer not to face its messy reality, because doing so means admitting we can’t fully understand or control it. As a result, in many modern societies, discussions about death are whispered in hushed voices, left to professionals like doctors and undertakers. This avoidance does not remove our fears, though. It only deepens the mystery and dread. Our brains crave tidy categories, and death refuses to be pinned down, leaving us unsettled and eager to look away.
Chapter 2: The Long History of Achieving a More Peaceful, Prepared and ‘Good Death’ Experience.
For much of human history, people have aspired to something often called a good death. Though definitions of a good death have changed over time and across cultures, this ideal generally means leaving the world without panic or chaos, with one’s life affairs settled and a sense of peace hanging in the air. Centuries ago, when human societies shifted from roaming bands of hunter-gatherers to settled agricultural communities, people gained more stability and longevity. This allowed them to think carefully about the end of life. Living longer and growing older in a familiar community gave individuals the opportunity to plan. They could say goodbye to friends, pass on their property, and reflect on their spiritual and moral duties before taking their final breath.
In medieval times, a good death often meant being well-prepared both practically and spiritually. It was not merely about dying painlessly; it was about ensuring your soul and responsibilities were in order. Landowners, for instance, would make arrangements for who would inherit their estate. Parents would ensure the future of their children, and faithful believers would spend their last months deep in prayer, confession, and reflection. Deathbed scenes included loved ones gathered close, spiritual leaders offering comfort, and an atmosphere of solemn acceptance. People understood that dying was not always sudden or surprising; it could be approached with calmness if granted enough time and awareness.
In modern times, the idea of a good death still lingers. People might hope to die in their own homes, surrounded by family and friends. Some might write memoirs or letters, record messages, or organize their finances and possessions so that their survivors will not struggle. True, not everyone can afford such a calm and orchestrated farewell. Medical expenses, social inequalities, and unpredictable illnesses can make a peaceful and controlled death a luxury rather than a guarantee. Despite these challenges, the underlying wish remains the same: to face death with as little fear and regret as possible, ensuring our final moments reflect who we are and what we value most.
Unfortunately, many individuals in today’s world find themselves dying in hospitals, attached to tubes and machines, isolated from the people they love. Modern life’s fast pace, medical complexity, and fragmented support systems can rob us of the chance to arrange our endings thoughtfully. Where once people had time and tradition guiding their final days, now many face uncertainty, rushed decisions, and high costs. Nevertheless, the enduring concept of a good death reminds us that humans have always sought meaning and dignity in life’s last chapter. This timeless desire encourages us to reconsider how we view and handle end-of-life care, challenging us to create conditions that allow for acceptance, closure, and a sense of serenity when our own final moment arrives.
Chapter 3: How Nineteenth-Century Science and Greedy Practices Thoroughly Desecrated the Once-Sacred Human Corpse.
In earlier ages, the dead body held a sacred quality. Corpses were treated with reverence, carefully buried, and vigilantly guarded. However, the nineteenth century saw significant changes as scientific curiosity, medical education, and financial incentives collided. The growing field of anatomy required fresh human bodies for dissection, training, and study. Demand skyrocketed, and medical schools needed cadavers to understand the human body better. But these cadavers did not appear out of thin air. With churchyards full of graves and no easy legal way to supply so many corpses, a grim underground market developed where the bodies of the recently dead were snatched right out of their resting places at night.
This practice, known as body snatching, shredded the moral fabric that once surrounded death. Grave robbers, sometimes called Resurrectionists, worked in secret teams. Under the cover of darkness, they would dig through fresh earth to reach the coffin below. With rough haste, they broke it open, dragged the corpse out, and stripped it of identifying clothes. Their profits came not from any respect for learning but from the money paid by anatomy teachers eager to provide their students with real human specimens to carve and study. In a world desperate for medical progress, moral limits were pushed aside, causing distress and outrage among ordinary citizens who feared their own loved ones might be stolen away after burial.
In places like the United States and the United Kingdom, this dark trade revealed deep social inequalities. Poor people’s graves were robbed more frequently, and in the U.S., racial prejudice led to the disproportionate targeting of Black cemeteries. In the UK, a failed attempt to rob a wealthy family’s grave caused an uproar, but still the practice continued. The Anatomy Act of 1832 in Britain legalized the use of unclaimed bodies for medical study, but the demand remained high, and so did the illicit supply. These unethical practices stripped corpses of their dignity and families of their peace of mind. People began to realize that once highly respected customs surrounding death could be cast aside in the name of progress and profit.
As the century wore on, the public’s rage and fear mounted. Many demanded stricter laws and better protection for cemeteries. Some families installed iron cages over graves or used booby traps to discourage thieves. Over time, improved regulations, changing medical standards, and more transparent donation systems reduced the need for body snatching. Still, the damage was done. The nineteenth century taught society a harsh lesson: when death loses its sacred shell, it can become just another commodity, bought and sold in grim marketplaces. This chapter in history reminds us that how we treat the dead reflects our deepest values. When the line between human body and mere object blurs, we lose a piece of our shared humanity.
Chapter 4: Modern Medicine’s Technological Advances That Blur the Fragile Boundaries Between Life and Death.
Today, medical technology allows us to push the boundaries between what we call alive and dead. Centuries ago, if someone’s heart stopped, that was it—life had ended. But in the twentieth century, life-saving techniques like cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) began to complicate this definition. A heartbeat no longer had to mean permanent vitality or its absence permanent death. Machines like ventilators can keep a person’s lungs pumping and heart beating long after their brain shuts down. Suddenly, death, once a relatively simple marker, became something more uncertain. Can we say someone is alive if they cannot think or feel? If we keep their body functioning only by artificial means, where do we draw the line?
These advances opened up new ethical dilemmas. Brain death, for example, was introduced as a medical concept to help physicians decide when life support was no longer meaningful. But what if a patient recovers some function after being pronounced brain dead? Such rare cases make even the clearest definitions feel shaky. Families face heartbreaking decisions: should they remove life support, accepting a definition of death that no longer depends on a beating heart, or keep hoping for a miracle? Doctors, too, struggle. On one hand, their role is to save lives; on the other, they must acknowledge when recovery is impossible. This uncertainty tests our compassion, reasoning, and emotional strength.
Real-life examples show just how tangled these situations can become. Consider a family who must choose whether to keep a loved one on machines for years, waiting for a possible, though incredibly slim, improvement. Or think about cultures that honor the heartbeat as the essence of life, clashing with medical definitions that rely on brain activity. In some communities, a child in a coma might be cared for at home for decades, fed and nurtured by parents who refuse to accept death’s modern redefinition. The existence of different cultural and personal beliefs only adds more layers to this already complex question.
As medicine advances, organ transplantation, coma states, and artificial life support all force us to reconsider what it means to be alive. Is life just a physical function measured by machines, or must there be awareness, personality, and interaction with the world? Our tools have outpaced our ability to define death easily, leaving us with lingering doubt. People and their families must now consider multiple perspectives: scientific knowledge, personal beliefs, religious ideas, and cultural expectations. The blurred line between life and death challenges the ancient certainties we once took for granted. It compels us to engage in honest, if painful, discussions about when to let go and when to keep trying, reshaping our understanding of mortality for generations to come.
Chapter 5: Strange Rituals of Consuming the Dead as Expressions of Affection and Respect.
For many people today, the mere idea of touching a dead body feels uncomfortable. The thought of eating the flesh of a deceased loved one seems horrific. Yet, in some cultures of the past, consuming the dead was a heartfelt way to mourn and show respect. Consider the Wari tribe of the Brazilian rainforest. For them, necrophagy, or the ritual eating of the dead, was a practice that brought the living closer to their departed relatives. Rather than avoiding the corpse, the Wari surrounded it, cried out to chase away evil spirits, and then carefully prepared and cooked the body’s flesh, treating it as something precious, not disgusting.
This custom may sound terrifying to outsiders, but to the Wari, it was about love. By consuming the deceased, the tribe ensured that their loved one remained within the family. They believed this act protected the spirit of the dead from becoming lonely or vengeful. It was a shared experience of grieving, a group event in which everyone participated. But the immediate family members did not actually eat their close relative. Instead, more distant family and community members consumed the flesh, ensuring that no one was forced into a too-personal act. This careful choice showed that even such extreme rituals had structure, meaning, and compassion behind them.
Over time, as outside influences reached the Wari, necrophagy faded by the 1960s. Still, this tradition leaves us with an important lesson: there is no single right way to cope with death. What seems strange or horrifying to one culture might have deep, loving significance to another. While few societies today practice such rituals, we can learn from their openness toward the dead. Instead of shunning the corpse or hiding it away, these traditions confronted mortality directly, acknowledging death as a natural part of the life cycle. The Wari integrated the body into their ongoing story, treating it as a symbol of togetherness rather than an object of fear.
Though we will not be adopting necrophagy, this insight can inspire us to find healthier, more personal ways of remembering our dead. Perhaps we can preserve the ashes of loved ones in decorative urns, scatter them in cherished places, or even create artistic tributes. By facing death more directly—though not as dramatically as the Wari—we might gain comfort, understanding, and a stronger sense of continuity. Such cultural examples remind us that fear often comes from distance and denial. Embracing rituals that honor the departed, in ways aligned with our own values, can help us accept loss and move forward with a sense of connection, rather than isolation and dread.
Chapter 6: Victorian-Era Memento Mori Photography and the Haunting, Twisting Ambiguity of Death’s Reality.
In Victorian England, death was a constant presence. With diseases and limited medical knowledge, families lost children and relatives frequently. Grief became central to life, and people found creative ways to remember and mourn. One unusual trend of that era was Memento Mori photography—images created to remind the living of their mortality. These photographs often showed the deceased propped up in natural poses, as though they were still among the living. Sometimes the corpse was placed next to family members who were very much alive, producing an unsettling mixture of tenderness and eerie stillness.
Back then, photographs were expensive and difficult to produce. Cameras were bulky, the processes required toxic chemicals, and the result was a treasure not to be wasted. Many families could only afford a single photograph in their entire lifetime. So, if a beloved family member died, they might choose to invest in a Memento Mori image. This single, precious picture would become a lasting keepsake, capturing the face of the departed in a moment that suggested not lifelessness, but a pause—as though the person was asleep, waiting to awaken at any second. To those who made these photographs, it was not morbid; it was an act of love and memory.
But these photos also reveal a complicated relationship with death. On one hand, by positioning the corpse in everyday surroundings, the living could pretend that the person they had lost was still there. On the other hand, these images highlight an inability to fully accept the finality of death. A small child photographed as if napping might be a comforting picture, but if you looked closely and saw signs that the child had died of a disease like smallpox, you understood the denial and sadness beneath the surface. This careful presentation shows how Victorians lived in tension between acknowledging death’s certainty and clinging to the illusion of continued presence.
Over time, as photography became simpler and more common, and as cultural attitudes changed, Memento Mori images gradually faded from popularity. Yet they still fascinate us today. They show how humans struggle to accept that death is truly an end. They illustrate how we sometimes dress up death in familiar clothing, hoping it will feel less frightening. These photographs stand as quiet reminders that, no matter the era, people wrestle with loss in personal, sometimes odd ways. Understanding these old customs can encourage us to think about our own practices, inspiring us to find honest yet comforting methods of honoring and remembering those who are gone.
Chapter 7: Modern Memorial Innovations, from Life-Like Funerals to Everlasting Digital Profiles of the Departed.
In the modern age, we no longer need to rely solely on old traditions to remember the dead. Some families are reinventing funerals in ways that bring the deceased back into the spotlight. Consider the case of a woman named Miriam Burbank in New Orleans. Her family decided not to present her body in a coffin, but rather posed her sitting upright at a party, wearing sunglasses, surrounded by the items she loved—beer, music, and a disco ball. It was as if Miriam were still enjoying the celebration, turning her funeral into a vibrant event rather than a silent, tearful goodbye.
Similarly, a deceased boxer named Christopher Rivera was positioned standing beside a boxing ring at his funeral, ready for a match he would never fight. These examples might shock some, who expect funerals to be somber affairs. Yet, they show a desire to honor the personality and passions of the person who has died. Instead of hiding the corpse away, these families choose to display it as part of everyday life, blurring the line between living and dead, presence and absence. Though such funerals are not the norm, they hint at a growing willingness to handle grief in unusual, personalized ways that celebrate rather than solely mourn.
In addition to these physical reenactments, the digital world has opened up new possibilities. Today, millions of Facebook profiles continue to exist long after their owners have passed on. Friends and family members can visit these pages, leave messages, and post memories as if talking to the person who is gone. Some apps even allow people to pre-write messages that will be posted after they die, sending digital hellos from beyond the grave. While this might sound comforting, it also complicates the grieving process. Seeing a loved one’s Facebook updates can make it harder to accept that they are truly gone, trapping us in a limbo where the dead seem oddly present yet unreachable.
These modern approaches—parties with posed corpses and online profiles that never vanish—reflect new ways people cope with loss. They raise questions: Is it healthy to keep someone so alive in our minds and social media feeds? Or might this delay the acceptance of reality? On the other hand, maybe these changes offer more room for personal expression than ever before. Instead of following a standard funeral script, families can choose the farewell that best matches their loved one’s life and values. Such innovations challenge us to think deeply about how we want to remember those who have passed, and whether embracing new customs might help us navigate the painful territory of saying goodbye.
Chapter 8: Rethinking Our Relationship with Death to Embrace a Healthier, More Honest Perspective.
If we look back at the many examples from history—body-snatching in the nineteenth century, elaborate funeral traditions among tribal peoples, Victorian Memento Mori photographs, and today’s creative and digital memorials—we find one recurring theme: humans are constantly struggling to understand, manage, and express their feelings about death. Over time, we have tried to tame death with rituals, laws, and beliefs. Sometimes we have embraced it, other times we have tried to hide it away. Regardless of the approach, death remains a powerful and mysterious force that shapes our lives and values.
Some societies in the past had a more open and integrated view of death. Instead of running from it, they made it part of everyday existence. While our modern world offers medical miracles and online memorials, it also encourages us to shut death behind hospital doors and funeral homes. We often allow professionals to handle the dead, leaving us disconnected from the physical reality of loss. This separation might protect us from discomfort in the short term, but it can also prevent us from truly coming to terms with our mortality. The result may be more fear, confusion, and difficulty in moving forward.
By learning from past customs and exploring new traditions, we might find a healthier relationship with death. Instead of simply treating it as something to dread and avoid, we can approach it as an event that shapes meaning in our lives. We can talk more openly about our end-of-life wishes, share our feelings about loss, and support each other in grieving. We might learn to balance acceptance of death’s finality with genuine ways of keeping memories alive, without denying that life eventually concludes. Honoring death honestly can guide us to cherish our time more deeply, treat others with greater kindness, and find peace in knowing that life’s impermanence makes it more precious.
Rethinking our attitude toward death does not mean becoming gloomy or obsessed with endings. Rather, it means realizing that death, like birth, is a natural part of the human story. By understanding how other cultures have approached death—and by recognizing how modern technology and ideas are reshaping our customs—we gain tools to confront mortality with courage and openness. The choice is ours: continue to view death as an unwelcome intruder that we never talk about, or embrace it as a teacher that reminds us to live fully. If we choose the latter, we might find ourselves more at ease with life’s ultimate mystery and more inclined to celebrate the time we have, however long it may be.
All about the Book
Explore the profound themes of mortality and memory in ‘Death’s Summer Coat’ by Brandy Schillace. This captivating narrative blends personal reflection with cultural insight, inviting readers to contemplate life’s ephemeral nature and the legacies we leave behind.
Brandy Schillace is a renowned author and historian whose work focuses on the intersections of science, culture, and mortality. Her insightful writings engage readers in deep reflections on life and death.
Healthcare Professionals, Psychologists, Sociologists, Death Educators, Cultural Anthropologists
Reading Philosophy, Creative Writing, Exploring History, Participating in Book Clubs, Meditation and Mindfulness
Coping with Grief, Understanding Mortality, Cultural Perspectives on Death, Memory and Legacy
Life is a tapestry woven with threads of memory, each moment a brushstroke on the canvas of our existence.
Dr. Abraham Verghese, Elizabeth Gilbert, Rachel Naomi Remen
National Book Award Finalist, Gold Medal for Best Nonfiction at the Independent Publisher Book Awards, The Christopher Award
1. How does our culture view death and dying? #2. What role does mourning play in the grieving process? #3. How can personal stories influence our understanding of loss? #4. What connections exist between death and seasonal change? #5. How do historical perspectives shape modern death rituals? #6. In what ways can art express our feelings about death? #7. How does humor help us cope with mortality? #8. What impact does death have on personal identity? #9. Can exploring death lead to a more meaningful life? #10. How do different cultures celebrate life and death? #11. What is the significance of death cafes worldwide? #12. How does technology affect our relationship with death? #13. What insights can we gain from historical death practices? #14. How can literature deepen our understanding of grief? #15. What are the psychological effects of prolonged mourning? #16. How do personal artifacts reflect our relationship with loss? #17. Can understanding death improve our mental health? #18. How does the concept of legacy influence our actions? #19. What lessons can nature teach us about mortality? #20. How can facing death help us appreciate life?
Death’s Summer Coat, Brandy Schillace, death and mortality, memoir on grief, life lessons from death, philosophy of dying, understanding loss, confronting mortality, psychology of grief, poignant memoir, literary exploration of death, personal narrative on loss
https://www.amazon.com/Deaths-Summer-Coat-mortality-meaning/dp/1641602358
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