For some reason, it took me over ten years to read a second Russell Banks book. I picked this one because it was short--and what an odd book it is. Not at all like the realistic story in Continental Drift, his other book I read. This one is more reminiscent of Kafka or even Beckett, but not quite as strange or hard to make out. The protagonist chooses to go to prison rather than give up his calling as a coffin maker, because his religion is all about honoring the dead. This life means little. In his dreams, the dead speak to him. The book has its share of perverse amusements as the narrator solemnly tells the story of his arrest, imprisonment, debaucheries with his wife, her cousin, and the jailer, and finally his increasing isolation from his fellow prisoners. Along the way, there are excerpts from his Holy Book, which was memorized in childhood since actually having a copy would be illegal. We learn such great lessons as, if something can be ignored, then do so; if it can't be ignored, worship it. This is an interesting book you'll read in a couple of days or maybe even one sitting. When you're done, I can't quite say what you're are going to have gotten out of it--perhaps more appreciation for your own place in the world and how so much of it depends on what we're thinking rather than where we are or what we're doing. But I don't plan to start doing my thinking in a coffin! ( )

An interesting literary excercise, but as compelling fiction? Not so much. ( )

I loved this book. Banks modeled it on works by jailed Puritan divines. However in this case the work is science fiction in nature. Rather than have a jailed Puritan detailing the trials and tribulations of being imprisoned for his beliefs, the protagonist here is a coffin-maker, a worshiper of the dead, in a world where the majority worships life. The dead worshipers have their set of scripture, and their main ritual is lying in a coffin to commune with the dead. ( )