The review is written under the influence of the latter.ġ171, Cambridge, pre-Campus life. I must admit reading this book as a doctor of the dead and then as an ex-doctor of the dead gave a different impact on the psyche. Therefore, this book speaks in a louder volume to me than usual. Similar to Adelia, I landed my pretty arse in England to master the language and art of speaking to the dead.
They say it makes you a better person. I say, yeah-my pretty and succulent arse doesn’t agree with you. Though I will put the blame on me on this one cause people seems to like you better if you blame yourself for your shit life, forgetting there might be external forces dropped upon you. But then I wasn’t a doctor of the dead no more-partly my fault, but wouldn’t regret if I’d dare to put blames on others as well. I had enjoyed the company of death in my days, conversing with rotting or calcified bones to reveal the secret of what their lives once were. I was once a doctor of the dead as well, though hadn’t the chance to be the best.
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