The more startling for the economy of its prose and plot, this novel's story, set among the manicured lawns and euphemisms of Whispering Glades Memorial Park in Hollywood, satirizes the American way of death and offers Waugh's memento mori.
“I wept as I remembered how often you and I had laughed about Los Angeles and now 'tis here you'll lie; here pickled in formaldehyde and painted like a whore....”
“They are a very decent generous lot of people out here and *they don't expect you to listen*. Always remember that, dear boy. It's the secret of social ease in this country. They talk entirely for their own pleasure. Nothing they say is designed to be heard.”
“There are jobs that an Englishmen just doesn't take. Yours, dear boy, is pre-eminently one of those.”
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