Review by Booklist Review
Bud Stanley didn't really mean to die--at least not yet. A jaded obituary writer who accidentally publishes his own obit after a few too many drinks, Bud quickly realizes he's set an irreversibly chaotic chain of events in motion. His newspaper's human resources system has already marked him as deceased, so he can't technically be fired, but he's suspended without pay until further notice. Wholly unprepared to find a new job, Bud finds himself attending the funerals of total strangers, thinking more deeply about life, death, and the messiness in between. This is a razor-sharp, darkly comedic, and emotionally piercing exploration of unexpected connections, romantic disappointments, and professional crises. Kenney (Talk to Me, 2019) seamlessly balances irreverence and depth, urging readers to confront life's brevity with both cynicism and hope. With the satirical bite of Richard Russo's Straight Man, the introspection of Fredrik Backman's A Man Called Ove (2014), and the reinvention of Andrew Sean Greer's Less (2017), Kenney's vivid prose transforms the mundane--chats with neighbors, bad dates, office rivalries--into unexpected hilarity. I See You've Called in Dead is a witty and heartwarming reminder of the bottomless despair, limitless absurdity, and undeniable joy of the human experience.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Library Journal Review
In this coming-of-middle-age tale, Kenney (Love Poems for the Office) adopts a tongue-in-cheek approach to mortality. Bud Stanley is struggling; at 44, he feels stuck. His marriage ended two years ago, and his job as an obituary writer is at a dead end. After a disastrous blind date (Bud's date shows up with her ex in tow), he drowns his sorrows with Scotch. He begins writing his own outrageous obituary for fun, but then he accidentally submits it to the national news feed. The next morning, Bud is suspended from work because (as a displeased human resources manager informs him) the newspaper cannot employ people who are dead. At loose ends, Bud meets a woman who attends strangers' funerals to feel fully alive. Along with his best friend Tim, Bud begins to do the same. Narrator Hopkins fully embodies Bud, capturing his sarcasm and genuine feelings of hopelessness and loss. Hopkins's narration is crisp yet warm, portraying a man who is afraid to truly live. The varied lives of the people whose funerals Bud attends, and the lives of the people they leave behind, underline Kenney's message that the real tragedy isn't dying--it's never living in the first place. VERDICT Heartbreaking and affirming, this tender story reveals the sharp beauty of life.--Laura Trombley
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
A sinking man relies on unexpected friends to stay afloat. Professional obituary writer Bud Stanley is a divorcé coasting through life in Brooklyn. He discovered his wife was cheating on him when she accidentally sent him a text message meant for her lover. At work, he's uninspired, unable to muster the interest in writing about the recently deceased. After a particularly bad blind date, he drinks to excess and comes up with a bold, ill-advised idea. He writes and semi-accidentally publishes his own obituary and is summarily suspended from work, but not before his mentor suggests that he's unfit for his career: "'You are an obituary writer who does not understand the first thing about life. Wake up,'" his boss pleads. It's from here that Kenney's touching, provocative novel takes off. During this time of suspension-induced depression and malaise, Bud relies heavily on his landlord, downstairs neighbor, and best friend, Tim Warren, who is paraplegic. While at a funeral for Bud's former mother-in-law, the duo meets Clara, a free spirit who quit her high-paying corporate job after missing her own father's death because of a meeting. Together, the three start going to funerals for people they don't know and have late-night discussions about life and death over wine. As Bud and Tim spend more time with Clara, each member of this unexpected triangle illuminates for the others the things that make life so rich. Bud comes to terms with his mother's death in a way he repressed for many, many years, while Tim begins to reveal how heavy of a toll his near-fatal accident and subsequent disability took on him. Through these death-related accoutrements--funerals, wakes, and obituaries--Bud begins to reckon with his purpose on this planet. Kenney doesn't propose any sort of clean answer, but alludes to the idea that life's richness comes from spending time with people you love, and that those relationships are built on mutual respect, truth, and love. A touching ode to the people who make life worth living. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
