He found love, purpose, and inner peace… after a fatal heart attack. Timing is everything.
My coworker recommended Under the Whispering Door and said, “It’s not my usual genre. It's ... different. You'll see.” My copy came available on Libby yesterday, so I read it today.
Wallace Price dies right at the beginning, and honestly, he kind of deserved it. He’s a miserable human being: Greedy, selfish, and generally unpleasant to everyone who crosses his path. If he were a coffee order, he’d be a double shot of espresso with no milk, no sugar, no joy, and double the bitterness.
After his untimely demise, Wallace is “rescued” from his own funeral by Mei, a Reaper who’s just trying to do her job, and taken to Hugo, the ferryman who helps souls cross over. But before Wallace can pass through the “whispering door,” he has to go through the five stages of grief about himself. Because dying doesn’t mean you stop being a jerk in the afterlife, apparently.
The heart of the story is that Wallace has to die to learn how to live. Along the way, he discovers empathy, love, and even falls for Hugo, the man who makes tea for the dead. It’s all very warm and tender and meant to tug at your emotions.
And yet... meh.
It’s not that the book is bad. The concept is interesting, and I genuinely like the idea of an afterlife where you can have a second chance at becoming a better person. I want that for myself when the time comes. But the humor didn’t land for me, and the tone sometimes felt uneven, like Klune wasn’t sure whether he was trying to make me laugh or cry. He didn’t quite do either.
That said, it wasn’t a total waste of time. I can see why some readers adore it. It’s comforting, hopeful, and full of tea. It just wasn’t my cup.
I would recommend it if you like cozy fantasy with a side of self-reflection. But if you’re like me and prefer your stories with a bit more grit or suspense, you might find yourself wishing Wallace would just go through the darn door already. Or wishing you could give him a shove.
