Assigned at university, noncompelling, grim, not sure I finished it, short as it was. It felt very much as if even my death would be administered and staged by a tedious bureaucrat. In bringing up this book, I see that the author was also an early pioneer in the hospice movement. You only have to go over the border to Northern Ireland to see charity cups in restaurants, where 20% of donations go to a children's hospice or two. There's something extremely sickening and Anglo-Saxon efficient about a centrally managed institution where parents pay to explicitly send their children to die, while also watching packs of other strangers die. God, that splits my infinitives. Yeah, I'll be skipping the "Acceptance" stage, if the Kubler-Rosses (but I really shouldn't drop the umlaut here) of the world are defining what "Acceptance" means. Luckily, stages in death, as in life, appear to be transparent bunkum, if George Bonanno is to be believed. Further readings will tell.