Briefly Perfectly Human: Making an Authentic Life by Getting Real about the End

Wow. This book completely shifted my perspective on what it means to live while knowing that we are all inevitably heading toward an exit. Alua Arthur writes with a raw, luminous honesty that made me both laugh and cry in the same chapter. I found the stories about her transition from a miserable lawyer to a compassionate death doula to be deeply inspiring and humbling. Her reflections on self-acceptance and body positivity were unexpected but felt so necessary within the context of mortality. It’s not just a book about dying; it is a sacred invitation to show up for your own life before it’s over. I finished this feeling a strange sense of peace and a renewed desire to cherish every fleeting, messy moment. Truly a beautiful, life-altering read.

The chapter regarding her brother-in-law’s passing is something that will stay with me for the rest of my life. It was gut-wrenching, yet Arthur’s ability to weave that personal tragedy into a larger narrative about legacy and love is masterful. Personally, I found her storytelling style to be incredibly authentic and courageous. She doesn’t shy away from the gritty, uncomfortable parts of the human experience, including her own struggles with depression. While some might find her tangents into her personal life distracting, I felt they were the heartbeat of the book. It highlights that we don’t become saints just because we’re facing the end. We remain briefly, perfectly human. This is a must-read for anyone navigating grief or simply looking to understand the mechanics of a 'good death' through a more spiritual lens.

After hearing Alua Arthur speak in an interview, I knew her book would be special, but I wasn't prepared for how much it would mirror the emotional depth of her sister Bozoma St. John’s work. There is clearly a lot of wisdom in that family. Arthur’s prose is poetic and fluid, making a heavy topic feel accessible and even light at times. I particularly appreciated her intersectional lens as a Ghanaian woman navigating the very white, very clinical death industry in America. She brings a unique cultural richness to the conversation that is often missing from Western literature on the subject. Not gonna lie, I cried through the last fifty pages. It’s enlightening, challenging, and ultimately a very refreshing take on a topic we usually spend our lives trying to avoid.

Rarely do I find a book that feels like it was written specifically for the questions I was too afraid to ask out loud. This is a courageous exploration of the one thing we all have in common. Arthur’s honesty about her 'failures' and her depression makes her feel like a friend rather than an untouchable expert. I felt like I was sitting across from her, sharing a cup of tea while we talked about the end of the world. Her descriptions are vivid and her empathy is palpable on every page. This book doesn't just teach you how to die; it teaches you how to be present. I’ve already recommended it to my entire book club because the conversations it sparks are just too important to miss.

Ever wonder what a death doula actually does? This book answers that, but it also asks you what YOU are doing with your time right now. It is raw, honest, and sacrosanct. Alua Arthur has a way of making the most terrifying topic feel like a warm hug. I loved the blend of her Ghanaian heritage with her American reality; it added a layer of depth that most memoirs lack. The stories of her patients were handled with such tenderness, even the difficult ones. It’s educational without being dry and emotional without being manipulative. This book creates a space for self-acceptance that I didn't know I needed. Ten stars if I could give them. It is simply profound.

Picked this up during a period of intense grief, and it served as a gentle companion through the dark. I loved the way she describes the logistical 'death work'—the financial and spiritual preparation—as a form of ultimate self-care. It’s a thought-provoking read that pushes you to ask yourself the hard questions before it’s too late. There were a few moments where the narrative felt a bit preachy, especially regarding her views on ageism and the 'full life' trope. I didn't necessarily agree with all her takes, but I appreciated the challenge to my own assumptions. Her writing is gorgeous, and her voice is distinct. Even when I disagreed with her perspective, I couldn't stop reading because her journey from the law to the bedside is so compelling.

Is it possible for a book about death to be vibrant? Alua Arthur proves it is. She manages to balance the somber nature of her profession with a cheery, almost irreverent disposition that makes the content easier to digest. I loved the stories about her clients, though I wish there were more of them and fewer chapters about her dating life. Some of the memoirs felt a bit like fillers. However, the lessons on 'dying with grace' and the burden that puts on the dying were truly eye-opening. It made me realize how performative we expect the end of life to be for the sake of the survivors. It’s a solid four-star read for me, though the structure could have been a bit tighter to keep the momentum going.

Not what I expected, but in a way that I actually enjoyed. I went in thinking this would be a handbook for end-of-life planning, but it’s much more of a spiritual and personal memoir. Arthur’s voice is strong, and she isn't afraid to be the 'unfortunate extra' in someone else's story. She addresses racism and the Black experience in America with a bluntness that is necessary and timely. While the flow is a little chaotic—kind of like life itself, I suppose—the emotional payoff is worth it. I did find the audiobook narration a bit slow, so I switched to the physical copy and enjoyed it much more. It's a beautiful meditation on the fleeting nature of our existence.

To be fair, I think your enjoyment of this book depends entirely on what you think you’re buying. If you want a clinical, step-by-step guide on how to prepare for end-of-life logistics, you might be disappointed. I was expecting more 'how-to' and less 'here is my life story.' The marketing implies a heavy focus on her clients, but in reality, it’s about 80% autobiography and 20% death doula insights. The timeline felt a bit chaotic and disjointed at times, jumping between her travels and her career pivots without a clear through-line. I also struggled with the tone when she discussed her own 'reckless' choices, like the mushroom trip during a depressive episode. It’s well-written, but it felt more like a personal venting session than the educational resource I was hoping for.

Frankly, I struggled with the author’s tone throughout much of the narrative. As a healthcare worker myself, some of her comments regarding patients were incredibly off-putting and lacked professional boundaries. Calling a man with a bowel obstruction 'full of shit' felt mean-spirited rather than insightful. I also found it difficult to reconcile her claims of universal love with the way she openly relished a dying man’s physical discomfort because of his racist views. While I understand the pain of experiencing discrimination, wishing more pain on a dying person feels like the opposite of what a doula should represent. The book felt like one long humble brag where she is constantly the hero of the story. It was more about her identity crisis than the actual process of dying. I’m honestly surprised by the high ratings.