I’ve been trying to read more non-fiction for a while now, but I keep getting caught up in fictitious adventures and breaking out in a cold sweat whenever I see the wobbling tower of non-fiction reads in the corner of my eye. So when my friend recommended me The Seven Ages of Death, I was a little reluctant to pick it up considering all the other non-fiction books I had waiting to be read. A few days after she mentioned it to me, I found a copy in The Works reduced to £2. I don’t believe in signs, but that was as clear as day (and, of course, I’ll take any excuse to add to my library).
I began this book hesitantly. The very first chapter discusses the suspicious death of a baby in great detail, and I had no idea what I was in for, other than the life’s work of a highly respected forensic pathologist. I was very quickly delighted by what I found within the pages. Dr Shepherd is a man who clearly loves his job – or loved, since he’s now retired. The way he speaks about the dead is so full of respect and care that I don’t think I’d be able to find someone better equipped for the job of forensic pathologist. His writing style has a natural poetic beauty to it, especially when describing biological processes that might otherwise be stuffy or a drag. It’s incredibly informative, giving the background of the simplest of processes that someone else might overlook. The book is accessible to everyone regardless of their knowledge of biology, and it absolutely piques curiosity to find out more. I have a biological background, though I no longer use it, and revisiting these topics was joyful, especially with Dr Shepherd to guide me through the nuances I’d forgotten.
In almost every case there is a police presence, making every chapter a miniature detective story. Readers soon realise that there is so much more to death that a possible motive and culprit. With the delicacy of handling a newborn, Dr Shepherd slices through the web of congenital defects, cascading injuries, and fresh wounds to see the real truth surrounding how someone died. I’m not sure if he realises how nurturing and gentle he comes across when handling organs of every age – this was, of course, routine for him for so many years – but I know if I were to die suspiciously, my ghost would be happy if my body was left as a puzzle for Dr Shepherd to solve.
The content of the book is obviously morbid in a certain sense. It wholly revolves around deaths with an element of doubt or suspicion about them, combined with personal anecdotes and breakdowns of the science behind the magic that our bodies are. It’s the perfect addition to any horror, gothic, or thriller lovers’ library, especially if they’re looking for books that are a little outside their norm.
Check out The Seven Ages of Death on Amazon and Goodreads.
Writing Werewolf 