This nonfiction memoir isn't a gory tell-all about the cemetery industry: more so, it's a personal tale about one kid's crappy summer job, filled with crazy characters and trouble they find ... although you are certain to learn unsettling things about how cemeteries are run, too.
Gallows humor, half-assed slackers, and marijuana abound in this story. During summer break 1969, Charles lands a job at Willowlawn Cemetery. The boss is a drunk, it's really hot, and one of his co-workers - a philosopher/economist/gravedigger - has a hidden pot plot somewhere in the back section of the yard. It's amazing anybody gets planted properly.
It's a much lighter read than I'd expected, and I enjoyed it quite a bit.