BookBrowse Reviews Yr Dead by Sam Sax

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A poignant look at life lived against a backdrop of pain and grief, and at what it means to choose death when hope feels lost.

The entirety of Sam Sax's debut novel, Yr Dead, takes place between the moment 27-year-old Ezra sets themself on fire in the streets of New York and the moment of their resultant death. Presented as a series of fleeting, non-linear vignettes, the novel plays very literally with the notion that our whole life flashes before our eyes just before we die. Ezra's memories of pain and joy as a queer, Jewish youth flood over them, and accumulate for the reader into a moving exploration of suffering and desperation.

Sax doesn't trace Ezra's depression, or their choice to end their life, back to any one root, but we do see how specific events have shaped their life. Ezra's mother abandoned her family when Ezra was young, which seems to have contributed to Ezra's self-loathing and constant, futile search for belonging. "Of the many kinds of grieving, we happen to be saddled with one where we, Dad and me, clearly weren't enough—and where else could the fault lie?" Ezra thinks. As an adult, Ezra (whose gender identity and sexuality are never defined) stumbles from one unhealthy relationship with a man to the next, being treated poorly or self-sabotaging a happiness they feel they don't deserve. This pattern, too, is fueled by prior loss: Ezra's memory returns often to their earliest and one true love, Edwin, from whose death Ezra has never truly recovered. In the wake of Edwin's death, Ezra feels numb: "Everything that follows has less taste. The color of the world dulls to a sepia and never comes back."

And yet, while Ezra's personal pain is obviously a large factor in their decision to end their life, other, external factors also play a role. The climate emergency, international war, systemic racism—many world events and social ills are touched on in Ezra's vignettes. Ezra clearly feels the weight of these social issues, and struggles to reconcile their passionate desire for change with the futility of their actions: "There are a hundred different apocalypses on the horizon, and what can I do?… It's never enough," they think. "Fifteen protests this month. Each one, like poetry, makes nothing happen, it survives."

Although specific names and dates aren't mentioned, it's easy to tell that the book is set in the aftermath of Trump's 2016 election win. At one point, Ezra describes what is certainly Trump Tower—"It's on television that I first see the president's tower, in reruns of The Nanny and Home Alone 2: Lost in New York… Then it was just a dumb icon, an ugly-dark building"—and their train of thought immediately turns to the Golden Gate Bridge, the US's most popular suicide destination: "I wonder how they felt when they first saw it? Was there some immediate recognition—that this is where I will die—or was it more subtle? Did it plant itself in the head like some kind of invasive vine?" The implication is clear: Ezra has chosen Trump Tower as the setting of their suicide. Though motivated by a personal grief, Ezra's self-immolation is also a political act.

There is a wry self-awareness to the way Ezra speaks about their suicide, and how it is both political and personal. "I nurse the wild narcissist in me who believes something may pivot following my death. Not like an end to war or anything that grandiose, but maybe a subtler change, some minor shift in the language," they think. What might their suicide mean for the world, if anything? "Someone might make the accusation this is just a publicity stunt, and they wouldn't be wrong, though would be hard-pressed to say exactly for what," they think. "Survivability? Living grief? Giving up my own two lungs with the hope it'll give someone a little more good air to breathe?"

Despite the darkness and pain at the heart of Yr Dead, the book is not without its flashes of levity. There are moments of affection and romance stolen with Edwin; glimpses of genuine friendship with fellow members of the queer community; and a sardonic sense of humor that both fleshes out Ezra's character and provides some much-needed respite for the reader. There are zingy, quotable one-liners peppered throughout, like "Art is so embarrassing, and if it isn't at first blush, just give it a few years, it will be," and "Love is just another thing that happens to you, like a rash or a bad radish or a car accident."

In the end, Yr Dead is a harrowing yet compassionate read, a reminder of how difficult and brave it can be to keep living when the world's problems feel insurmountable. And while the book never glamorizes Ezra's suicide, Sax writes with empathy and without judgement about those who feel they simply cannot go on. "So many of us are tired, and tried our best, and are ready to be gone," as Ezra puts it. Ezra's suicide is both intensely specific to their life experiences and universally understandable—a young person who feels only tiredness and pain at the thought of the future—and Sax's novel is a reminder to be kind to ourselves and each other as the world becomes crueler and more uncertain.

This review first ran in the September 18, 2024 issue of BookBrowse Recommends.