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Linda Jo lindajo — This is a serious book. It's also something of a train wreck. Author Charles Bowden is a mix of Henry Miller, William S. Burroughs, and Cormac McCarthy, with a touch of an amphetamine addled writing style, (whether on not he uses I don't know,) and a high-flying ego. Mr. Bowden's stylistic indulgences make for difficult, and not always interesting reading, but when he gets a grip he's both interesting, and compelling. To coin a phrase: when he's good he's very good, when he's bad he's awful. The book bears the full title: Some of the Dead are Still Breathing: Living in the Future, but I think it would have done well without the colon and etc. Mr. Bowden gives us characters that are spiritually dead, highly symbolic animal life - cardinals, rattlers, elephants, and whales on the verge of extinction or coping in an unfriendly world- has his own brushes with crises of faith, and emerges battered, and not quite whole. Looking at the non-human world to see the state of things works very well; drawing any larger conclusions of humanity based on his fringe characters works less well; and using himself as both Virgil and Dante works even less well. The book functions as memoir, and writing of the past does not work as a look at the future, as much as a mirror to Mr. Bowden's present. When he does "get a grip" on both style and story we get reportage from the dark night of the soul - his and his characters', and the reportage is brilliant. His reflections and ruminations on the animal world can scare you into thinking we're witnessing the end of the line, if not the end of time, and his look at the humans in his orbit also make us wonder for the future of humanity - not humans, humanity - and it's depressing. I'm giving it two stars, though it's a very uneven book that bumps down to two and up to four.