Cleo Dang Would Rather Be Dead
A darkly humorous yet uplifting novel about a grieving mother who starts working at a funeral home and discovers that the best way to honor the dead is to live—from the author of the “insightful, moving” (Taylor Jenkins Reid, New York Times bestselling author) Sunshine Nails.
All Cleo Dang has ever wanted is to be a mother. The day she discovers she’s pregnant is the happiest of her life, especially when she learns that her best friend, Paloma, is also expecting. It’s a wonderful surprise, and together, they enjoy their pregnancies. But when they both go to the hospital in labor, something goes very, very wrong. Paloma comes home with a baby. Cleo does not.
Ravaged by grief, Cleo must now navigate life after losing her baby. She alienates herself from the world, particularly her best friend, who is living the life she so desperately wanted. Forced to take leave from her demanding job as an actuary, Cleo manages to find work at a funeral home, where she meets a revolving cast of bereaved locals and discovers the power of confronting grief.
Darkly humorous yet uplifting, Cleo Dang Would Rather Be Dead follows a grieving mother who starts working at a funeral home and discovers that the best way to honor the dead is to live.
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Community Reviews
I picked up Cleo Dang Would Rather Be Dead expecting quirky funeral-home hijinks and maybe some dark comedy with healing sprinkled in like emotional parmesan cheese. You know, the kind of book where grief wears chunky cardigans and makes sarcastic observations while slowly learning to love life again.
Instead, this book grabbed me by the throat and said, “Actually, we’re going to talk about devastating loss now.”
Cool cool cool.
The cover? Adorable.
The summary? “Darkly humorous yet uplifting.”
The actual reading experience? Me staring at the wall at 1 a.m. wondering why I trusted that cute cover.
To be fair, this is a beautiful book. It’s raw and painfully honest about grief, jealousy, isolation, and the impossible unfairness of watching someone else live the life you were supposed to have. Cleo’s pain feels sharp in a way that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived anywhere near it yourself.
It’s been a few years since my own personal year of three miscarriages,” and wow, this book casually walked into the room carrying all that heartache like it had been storing it in a tote bag labeled Feelings You Thought You’d Processed. I had to read this one slowly because some chapters hit a little too accurately. Not in a manipulative way—just in a deeply human one.
And honestly? I’m glad I read it.
The funeral home setting works surprisingly well because the story understands something important: grief isn’t neat, inspiring, or magically transformative. Sometimes it’s ugly and isolating and makes you resent baby shower invitations with the fury of a thousand suns. The novel allows Cleo to be messy without trying to fix” her too quickly, which I appreciated.
That said, I do feel legally obligated to warn future readers: this is NOT a light, fluffy woman starts over while working at a funeral home” romp. There are approximately seven jokes and all of them are standing ankle-deep in emotional devastation.
If you want a heart-wrenching story about loss, friendship, and surviving the unimaginable, this book will absolutely destroy you in the best way.
Just maybe don’t trust the cute cover. The cute cover lies.
Instead, this book grabbed me by the throat and said, “Actually, we’re going to talk about devastating loss now.”
Cool cool cool.
The cover? Adorable.
The summary? “Darkly humorous yet uplifting.”
The actual reading experience? Me staring at the wall at 1 a.m. wondering why I trusted that cute cover.
To be fair, this is a beautiful book. It’s raw and painfully honest about grief, jealousy, isolation, and the impossible unfairness of watching someone else live the life you were supposed to have. Cleo’s pain feels sharp in a way that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived anywhere near it yourself.
It’s been a few years since my own personal year of three miscarriages,” and wow, this book casually walked into the room carrying all that heartache like it had been storing it in a tote bag labeled Feelings You Thought You’d Processed. I had to read this one slowly because some chapters hit a little too accurately. Not in a manipulative way—just in a deeply human one.
And honestly? I’m glad I read it.
The funeral home setting works surprisingly well because the story understands something important: grief isn’t neat, inspiring, or magically transformative. Sometimes it’s ugly and isolating and makes you resent baby shower invitations with the fury of a thousand suns. The novel allows Cleo to be messy without trying to fix” her too quickly, which I appreciated.
That said, I do feel legally obligated to warn future readers: this is NOT a light, fluffy woman starts over while working at a funeral home” romp. There are approximately seven jokes and all of them are standing ankle-deep in emotional devastation.
If you want a heart-wrenching story about loss, friendship, and surviving the unimaginable, this book will absolutely destroy you in the best way.
Just maybe don’t trust the cute cover. The cute cover lies.
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