Two Irish-American writers engage questions of mortality with the sense of humor proper to a wake.

The stories we tell about what happens when we die have lost their certainty.

After that business with the blackbird, Kevinsore-shouldered from his mortifications—the lent-long arms reach and supplications in service of life’s mysteries and flights—lay himself out, spread-eagled in paschal light,cozy in a copse of alders, cones and catkins, and sle