Review of "The Art of Dying" by Christopher Eustache

Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)

The Art of Dying by Christopher Eustache is a bold, unflinching collection that stares directly into the abyss of human emotion—grief, detachment, existential dread—and somehow emerges with moments of piercing clarity and dark humor. Blending the surreal with the deeply personal, Eustache crafts stories that read like philosophical meditations wrapped in lyrical fiction. With a voice that is as fearless as it is compassionate, this collection doesn't offer easy answers, but instead holds space for those quietly wrestling with what it means to survive, to feel, and to let go.

This book was a mixed bag to us. There were times when it had us at the edge of our seats. There were times it made us laugh. There were times it made us think. There were times it bored us. There were times it confused us. There were times when it excited us, and there were times it fell flat.

We'll say this: this is a unique book. It's far from conventional.
First of all, despite the book's dark topics and subject matters (like self-termination, depression, and disillusionment), the author effectively incorporates humor, sass, irony, and clever sarcasm to make this a less dreary reading experience. In fact, as we alluded to before, there are times when this book is outright hilarious and quite entertaining. There are also stories in here that are truly thought-provoking, as we'll get to.

It's important to note that, despite most of these stories exploring many of the same themes, this isn't one singular story but actually a collection or anthology comprised of shorter stories.

Yet, despite the lengths of these stories, some of these characters (like David and Jason) get a ton of development—arguably more so than characters in full-length novels!

And let's talk about David's story for a good minute because it really is the highlight of this book, in our opinion. It really exemplifies the book and the author's range of darkness, light, sarcasm, and sass.

David's story is titled "The Man Who Wanted Nothing: A Fairy Tale." Despite being told from the author/narrator's perspective, David often breaks the fourth-wall to dispute the narrative and provide his own two-cents. This is really unorthodox and, honestly, a lot of fun! But don't let the fun and humor completely distract you from the deeper, darker things going on with David and this story.

Because underneath the quirky narration, ironic footnotes, and whimsical tone lies one of the most heartbreaking depictions of emotional withdrawal and existential fatigue in the entire collection. David, though eccentric and socially awkward, is profoundly intelligent and burdened by his perception of life’s absurdity. His mission to rid himself of all desire (in a Buddhist-like way) isn't just a philosophical exercise—it’s a desperate attempt to protect himself from pain, connection, and disappointment. And in doing so, he slowly erases his own identity and humanity.

His relationship with his mother, Sharron, is central to the emotional weight of the story. She's loving, frustrated, and ultimately heartbroken watching her son disappear into detachment. Add in characters like Ms. Farina, Tawna, and Jess (the attractive nurse—a candidate for "Hottest Character"), and what you get is a supporting cast that amplifies David’s loneliness while still showing glimmers of compassion, love, and—perhaps tragically—hope.

This story features probably our two favorite moments in the whole book:

When David essentially argues with the narrator about whether he "likes penises."

There are other really humorous parts of this story like when David is being a loudmouth and Ms. Farina tell him to "SHUT UP!" all the while being a loudmouth herself (ironically). It's an All That library skit come to life!

We also get the hilarious line from Masud, who we think is supposed to be David's friend who married his crush (Tawna): "I’m sorry for eating your cake that one time. I said I didn’t, but I did. I lied, sorry…also sucks that you’re dying and stuff…good-bye, Uncle Dave."

Wait, why does he sound like he's 6-years-old?

Anyway, "I'm sorry you're dying and stuff" is just one of those lines that had us rolling and bawling.

This sense of humor returns in "The Art of Dying" (the short-story this book is named after) when the protagonist encounters a little boy wearing a Call of Duty hoodie, which makes the protagonist consider the irony of a little boy wearing swag that celebrates a violent video game series. The little boy asks him, "Does it get better?" and he immediately jumps to the conclusion that the boy means life. Hilariously, the boy is actually just talking about the series. Honestly, this is probably the funniest and best scene in the book!

The next several stories, which may have not stood out as much in terms of characters and story, still employed some solid writing. One thing we kept noticing is how the author uses sounds, phonemes, and onomatopoeia. For example, Eustache uses:

"Beep"
"Trriiiinnnggg trring tring" (doorbell)
"POW"
"Clink" (to describe the sound of boots)
"Click"
"Clang"

Speaking of "Beep" used as an onomatopoeia, it is used in one of the most heart wrenching and beautiful passages in this book (from "Run"):

"Beep.
It followed a consistent pattern.
Beep.
A rhythm.
Beep.
Like taking in a breath of life-giving air.
Beep.
And slowly releasing.
Beep.
Each beep chipping away at the insurmountable task.
Beep.
Of bringing everything back into focus.
Beep.
One step at a time.
Beep.
One foot in front of the other"

Nothing says that "I'm still breathing, I'm still living, I'm still kicking" like a sound that indicates one's heart's still beating. It's a beautiful way to emphasize the hope that remains in Jared's dark, wounded mind and psyche in this story.

Another story that really stood out to us was "Selected." Now, "Selected" is one of the most confusing yet fascinating stories in this collection, and we had different interpretations of it. The story is about a character named Atlas, but who Atlas actually is and what he's actually experiencing is up to debate. We're not kidding, some of us actually considered if Atlas was some sort of AI-dog/robot-dog who was programmed to essentially be a prisoner or servant in this mysterious space. There are subtle hints to this being a possibility. Then again, there's just as much evidence for this premise as there is against. Another interpretation is that Atlas is someone who has been trapped/imprisoned in this liminal space for so long that he has simply just lost his humanity and his mind. He records over 60 logs and even starts misnumbering and misnaming the logs, almost as if losing track of both time and himself.

This premise actually blends right in with the next story that really compelled us: "Life Sentence." In this story, Jason is sentenced to eight-years in prison after previously facing the possibility of serving a life sentence. On one hand, Jason should be relieved that he can someday see the light of day outside a prison cell. On the other hand, Jason is faced with the prospect of eight years without freedom, without seeing friends or family, and being separated from a world that's sure to change a lot by the time he's out.

Similar to Atlas in the previous story, Jason is tormented by the monotony of the prison experience. In particular, there's another inmate who repeatedly and continues to laugh. This man becomes known as the "laughing man." His laughs vary in tone, loudness, and intensity, becoming one of the most maddening parts of Jason's prison experience.

This story really makes you think about our prison & justice systems and the lives of the incarcerated. Yes, some of them truly belong behind bars, but what's happening behind those bars/walls/barbed wire fences? What is actually being accomplished? And why?

And, perhaps most thought-provoking of all: what happens to a prisoner once they're out of prison. Do we continue to treat them like prisoners? Should we get them the help they need or leave them to their own devices?

Speaking of thought-provoking, "Two Worlds" is a very thought-provoking story. This story really make you think about the way the future and emerging technologies (like AI and virtual reality) could impact those who feel lonely or suffer from depression and suicidal ideation. The main character of this story, whose name we forgot or couldn't figure out but we think is Norman, is some sort of virtual reality programmer/game designer who "creates worlds" as a means of escaping his ill feelings in the real world. It seems as though Norman's career isn't as lucrative as one would hope, especially considering the time, effort, and energy he puts into his work. Because of this, he starts to fall behind on his rent to his landlord, Mr. Okamoto, all the while starting a bit of a relationship with the landlord's daughter, Hanna, who helps close out this book with an eloquent letter.

Anyway, this story really highlights the blending and blurring between reality and fiction. If you've passionately created a fictional world and/or fictional characters, you might realize that they become real to you. If you've talked to an AI about your issues and personal feelings, you might start to really bond with it. Storytelling and these technologies can serve as a bit of an escape. But can they replace reality?

Check it out on Amazon!