My New Life in Obituaries

In writing and in conversation, I like to refer to obituaries. I love obituaries. But if I were to say I always have, I’d be lying.

I would like to say the trajectory of my more-than-passing interest in obituaries and obituary writers began when I was a kid, and, like my mother, I opened our preferred hometown paper, The New York Times, to the obituary page before any other. But the truth is, while I did grow up reading The Times, and while my mom did go to the obituaries first, I was addicted to the sports and automobile sections—the lively, inconsequential ones—in silent protest of my mother’s interest in the new dead.

Mother always said she kept up with the obituaries to make sure she was younger than the people who’d died. But I don’t think her loyalty was so simple.

It has taken me more than a decade to catch up. I have expanded my Times reading to the limit, perusing every section of every paper I can get my hands on. (This summer I live in a Mississippi city where The Times is sold only on Sundays, but when I’m somewhere else I try to obtain a copy to read every day.) I pore over two areas in the newspaper more than any of the others: the front page and the obituary pages.

About a year ago, when obituaries were still of passing interest to me, I checked to see if they concerned people I considered relevant. Usually they did not. But back then, I think, I lacked the compassion, and therefore the courage, to read about people I’d never heard of.

Since then I have become more flexible. Not only do I attempt to read every obituary published in the Sunday paper, but I check the Times’ obituary Web page several times a week, to catch up on the ones I haven’t read.

I keep tabs on who wrote the obituaries—Margalit Fox or Bruce Weber, Peter Keepnews or Christopher Lehmann-Haupt); I figure out what kinds of people they tend to write about, and I look out for exceptions, as well as the bylines of ad-hoc obituary writers. And recently I have been learning about famous Times obituary writers like Alden Whitman and Robert McG. Thomas Jr. I save up their greatest hits for times when I must be inspired or fascinated. (As a young reporter, I’m awestruck by the challenge to summarize a life, never mind an important one, and by logical progression I have profound sympathy for obituary writers. Small wonder I was thrilled to come across an essay by Gay Talese called “Mr. Bad News,” which is chock full of information on Whitman’s life and example of his work.)

To feed my addiction, I have signed up to receive an e-mail from an outfit named Celebrity Death Beeper whenever a significant figure passes. When I get such an e-mail, I check The Times’ Web site, anxious to see what the newspaper has put together.

For me, a standard Times obituary will make me appreciate a person I’ve never met (unless, of course, I have met him or her). A good Times obituary will reveal to me a world about which I knew little if anything, or turn me into a fan of a person, place or thing, or make me wonder, “Why didn’t I know about this person until now?” A great Times obituary will challenge me to make more of my life than I was planning to.

My obsession with obituaries has driven me to look forward to deaths, and especially big deaths, which cause The Times to bring out work by some of its most talented reporters, like Robert D. McFadden.

The excitement I derive from news of a major death has caused friends and acquaintances to call me morbid.

I don’t care.

If anything, I’d defend it as a symbol of care and curiosity. Obituaries help me understand more about the world and human nature. After all, my continuing consumption of obituaries has made me more and more confident of the power of a single individual.

In the last two weeks, we have been pelted with celebrity deaths, and consequently, corresponding obituaries. Ed McMahon went, and Farah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson, and Billy Mays, and Karl Malden. . . . Each was fascinating in his or her own right, but in the public conscious they may immortally be considered together. I wonder why we received such an onslaught.

Whatever the reasons, I’m not a big fan of actors, but I know many people who are. If any of them read an obituary in the last few days and decided the form is wonderful, I would be thankful, because I would be vindicated. The obituary fan club would have grown. How joyful that would be. My mother would be pleased.

I guess I have to thank her for turning me on to the pleasures of obituary reading.

I don’t think I’m completely morbid; she is one of many people whose deaths I do not look forward to.

Reporter-Centric Quiz

If you attended Narrative Round Table No. 2, which took place earlier this week, I talked about what I call a reporter-centric way of thinking. But I don't think I made myself clear.

So I prepared an informal quiz, to clarify what I mean, and to help you figure out if you too are reporter-centric.

I should note that I don't intend it to be insulting. If anything, it may be humorous. Actually, I hope you find it funny. And I hope you enjoy it. And so, without further ado, . . .

Please complete the following sentences to figure out how reporter-centric you are, and learn what that might mean for you.

1) When I read the newspaper, . . .
a. I glance at the pictures and scan the headlines.
b. I read each byline and if I recognize the name, I read as much of the article as possible.
c. Wait, wait. You mean that gray thing with words? I don't read that!

2) When researching a topic, the first thing I do is . . .
a. call a friend.
b. Google it.
c. search The New York Times archive.

3) After waking up, the first thing I do is . . .
a. comb my hair, brush my teeth, eat breakfast or go to wherever I need to be.
b. talk to someone and find out what's going on.
c. check nytimes.com, or go out and buy The Times.

4) If a crisis happens, I hope . . .
a. no one is hurt.
b. The Times unleashes one or a few of of its top reporters to tell a strong, interesting story for the next day's paper.
c. to find a TV and see what happened.

5) In the future, I'd like to . . .
a. do some good for the rest of the world.
b. do something I enjoy and get paid well for my work.
c. become a great reporter, just like the people I admire most.

6) The majority of the books on my bookshelf . . .
a. compile stories my favorite reporters wrote. The rest were mentioned in articles I read.
b. are about any old topic. Some are fiction, some are non-fiction. . . . The rest are necessary for my profession or classwork.
c. Um, I don't own books.

7) When someone famous dies, . . .
a. I mourn his or her death and keep him or her in my prayers. Maybe the person will come up in conversation.
b. I look forward to reading his or her obituary in the next day's Times. It'll probably be great. And if I'm lucky, it'll be written by Robert D. McFadden.
c. I don't always hear about it right away. It'll be news to me when people mention the death in conversation.

8) In my free time, . . .
a. Woah, woah—I don't have free time.
b. I talk with other people, write, draw, browse the Internet. . . .
c. I read up on reporters I heard about recently, borrow a book of theirs from the library, or read the day's paper or check the news online.

9) I think most reporters are . . .
a. the most noble people alive.
b. I don't know; I've never met one, or even thought about that. . . .
c. scumbags.

10) Altogether, I think about the world . . .
a. when other people talk about it.
b. now and then.
c. in terms of the reporters who would write about aspects of it.

Now, add up the points you scored for your answers, using this key:

1) a = 1, b = 2, c = 0
2) a = 1, b = 0, c = 2
3) a = 0, b = 1, c = 2
4) a = 0, b = 2, c = 1
5) a = 1, b = 0, c = 2
6) a = 2, b = 1, c = 0
7) a = 1, b = 2, c = 0
8) a = 0, b = 1, c = 2
9) a = 2, b = 0, c = 1
10) a = 1, b = 0, c = 2

If you scored between 0 and 5, you're probably not reporter-centric in the least, and you have nothing to worry about. You probably don't like to read much, and certainly not anything a reporter wrote. You might prefer a scholarly work, or a best-seller, or something a friend or a few websites recommended. You rarely, if ever, pay for a newspaper.

If you scored between 6 and 10, you're not very reporter-centric. You might think now and then about journalism, stories, and things of that nature, but you're not obsessed with them. You may know a reporter or two, and their thinking may have rubbed off on you. You may pick up a newspaper for the experience.

If you scored between 11 and 15, you may be on your way to becoming reporter-centric, or you were in the past and you realized how unusual is to be always thinking about reporters. You might subscribe to a newspaper, or you could be in the habit of picking one up on Sundays. You may know reporters. You might even be a reporter.

If you scored between 16 and 20, you're probably a reporter, and you may know several reporters. You may love reading. You're definitely reporter-centric. Which makes for a lonely but satisfying existence. You learn about reporters and look for their bylines for pleasure. You're in your own little world, and you may care little about the real one. You may wish to seek help.