The Funny Business of Death

Posted on 18 May 2023

Simon James Green, author of middle-grade novel, Finn Jones Was Here, writes about how laughter can help with grief.

Finn Jones Was Here is out now.

I’ve always believed in the power of comedy. Laughter is a great thing, which we don’t do enough of. The world can often be a depressing, stressful and unhappy place, and when it gets like that, one of the best things we can do is laugh. There’s science that proves this (endorphins are wonderful it turns out!) but I think it’s even simpler than that: laugher reminds us that life is supposed to be enjoyable. It should be fun.

Since my debut, Noah Can’t Even, was published in 2017 I’ve used comedy in my books to explore everything from the power of friendship in Life of Riley, to the challenges faced by the LGBTQ+ community in Gay Club! via the importance of being brave enough to be your true self in the picture book I created with Garry Parsons, Llama Glamarama. During my many school visits I’ve seen how the lens of comedy can make exploring difficult issues much more accessible. Laughter breaks down defences, it relaxes people, and it can be a unifying experience. It led me to wonder: is there anything comedy can’t help with?

I don’t know whether the pandemic is entirely to blame, but over the last couple of years I’ve been thinking a lot more about the fragility of life – how it can be gone before we know it, how it’s precious, and how we need to try to embrace every moment and every experience. I was thinking about people I’d lost – my father, who died unexpectedly a few years ago, my gran, and even friends from my school days – and how I hadn’t known when I was talking to them for what would be the last time, all the things I never said, and all the things they never got to do.

Out of that came the idea for my new middle-grade novel Finn Jones Was Here – a story which deals with life and death through the experiences of a couple of 12-year-old boys. When Eric starts getting notes from beyond the grave from his best friend Finn, he follows Finn’s instructions on a totally unpredictable scavenger hunt. Along the way, he becomes increasingly convinced he’s going to find Finn, alive and laughing, at the end of it. It’s a journey that brings memories, but also a truth that seems impossible to accept. This juxtaposition of youth and death interested me. Kids aren’t meant to die. And yet, sadly, sometimes they do. The funeral of a 90-year-old can be a celebration of a life well lived, but what about that of a 12-year-old who had so much potential, and so many dreams that he never got to fulfil? That’s heartbreakingly tragic. How could comedy ever help coming to terms with that?

Honestly, I wasn’t sure it could before I started writing. But I also knew that a three hundred-page book about death, without any laughs or humour in it, wasn’t going to help any young person going through similar. I’d met so many kids in schools who’d told me they just craved some light relief, even when the topic of a book was a more serious one. They, perhaps, understood the power of laughter better than some adults. Creating this book became a test: just how powerful could comedy really be?

It soon became apparent that humour could work, and that actually, I was initially looking at this story the wrong way round. It wasn’t a book about death. It was a book about life. Eric’s diary entries that directly address Finn give the initial impression that he’s very much still here (which Eric believes he is), and even when he learns a hard truth, he also realises that, in lots of ways, Finn is still here regardless. The book explores the importance of memories, of lessons learned, experiences shared and the good times had. It turns out Finn also discovered the secret of immortality, but I won’t spoil that particular revelation for you!

What came out of all that was an overriding feeling of joy, hope and, yes, laughter. I realised, and Eric realises, that grief is a long road, and it isn’t a straight road – there are dips, and hills, and impossible valleys – but some laughter makes parts of that journey lighter, and it also means you’re on the right track to healing a little.

I was reminded as well of something my gran said to me, a month or two before she died. She held my hand and she said, “We had some fun, didn’t we!” Eric realises that’s the case for him too, and that’s one of thing he grieves for, but he also realises that Finn wouldn’t want him to be unhappy. He would want the laughter to keep ringing out, like it always did, and like it always should. Eric knows the pain of loss doesn’t go away, but he also learns that one of the best ways to remember those we love is to take what they’ve taught us and go out there and live, for them, and for ourselves.

Combined with Jennifer Jamieson’s joyful illustrations (and even cartoon strips!), Finn Jones Was Here became a book that refused to let the tears be more important than the laughs and the fun. I would fully expect any reader with a heart to cry (I did, and still do, every time I re-read it!) but, even so, it’s a joyful celebration of the enduring power of love and friendship, living life to the max, embracing every opportunity, making every second count and how, even in the darkest hour, remembering to laugh a little can really help.