Baron (Snow White’s Walk of Shame, 2017, etc.) offers a novel in which Death comes to life.
Andy Meade, 53, is on his way to his car after having a few drinks at a bar when a shudder goes through him and he realizes that something is very wrong. It turns out that Andy is dying and, although he can’t see her, a young woman, dressed in black, is there to take his “life force” away. She’s none other than Death, the Reaper of Souls. But she’s distracted by a man who opens a pocket watch nearby, and she finds that she’s inexplicably unable to perform her duties. Soon, she wakes up on the floor of a motel room and realizes that not only can she no longer reap souls, but she’s also become human. She’ll go on to discover what it means to be hungry, tired, alone, and eventually, in love. Still, she’s consumed by the question of if and how she’ll ever be able to reap again. After all, although it may not be pleasant, the world needs Death. And Death, who will come to be known as Dorothy in her human form, is simply lost without her vocation. The resulting tale involves everything from a savage mental institution to the kindness of strangers. It’s an enticing premise that lends itself to comical situations, as when Dorothy insists that “I am Death! I do not get crushes.” Some scenes leave much to be desired, however, as when Dorothy experiences rather tame adventures at a carnival or peruses vinyl records with her sometimes-grating mortal suitor, Randy, who touts a local record store by saying, “Others may try to recreate the feel, but this place is the real deal.” That said, the story does have its share of insights, such as the idea that “every moment of every day was unique for every single person.”
This paranormal tale sets an intriguing stage, but its blander passages dilute the comedy.