Interesting and entertaining memoir. I have no idea what tidbit led me to this title, but the blurb from M. Roach circa Stiff-era makes complete sense. ( )

I thoroughly enjoyed this entertaining look behind the curtain of an industry none of us really know that much about. The author, Charles Wilkins, worked as a general labourer at one of Toronto's bigger graveyards during the summer of 1969.

I had the good fortune to hear the author speak at a Writers' Community of Durham Region breakfast last year and bought a couple of his books based on how well he entertained me for forty-five minutes.

But I didn't expect this book to be as good as it was. It's gross, it's heartwarming, it's sad, it's hilarious, it's shallow and it's deep as hell.

But it was this line that really stood out for me: "The problem," says Luccio as we rattle up Millwood Road, "is that most people would rather sell their time, or kill it, than nail it to the fucking wall."

This is a book that does make you appreciate the opportunity to nail it to the fucking wall.

Highly recommended. ( )

A feckless youth grows tiresome. ( )