Kirsty Greenwood's new novel ponders what would happen if you met your match... in the afterlife
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See the cover for Greenwood's 'The Love of My Afterlife'
Romance is dead takes on new meaning when you meet the potential love of your life in purgatory.
That's the premise behind The Love of My Afterlife, the U.S. debut of hit U.K.-based romance novelist Kirsty Greenwood.
The book, out July 2, follows Delphie, a woman who considers her life utterly forgettable, right down to her embarrassing death choking on a microwavable burger. But maybe death isn't so bad after she and an extremely attractive man share "a moment" in the afterlife waiting room. Until said hottie is abruptly sent back to earth.
Delphie gets a second chance at life — and love — when she's offered the chance to return to Earth in pursuit of this mysterious stranger. But to make her fresh start possible, Delphie has to find said hottie in the vastness of her city and get him to kiss her before ten days are up. No sweat, right?
EW can exclusively reveal the cover for The Love of My Afterlife below, as well as share an exclusive excerpt. Additionally, we asked Greenwood some questions over email to get more details behind the novel and her inspiration. Read her answers below, followed by the except.
Cornerstone
ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Where did you get the idea to write a book that starts in the afterlife waiting room?
KIRSTY GREENWOOD: It was actually the culmination of two ideas; one in which two people fall in love in the afterlife and have to find each other back on Earth, the other in which an obsessive romance fan wants to see a romance novel play out in real life and will do anything to make that happen. They were separate ideas that sort of melded together in my brain one day and gave me such a fizz of excitement, I knew I had to write it!
Would you call this the ultimate “second chance” romance?
Absolutely! Not only does the protagonist Delphie get an unexpected second chance to find the only man she’s ever felt a real connection to, but she also gets a second chance at life, and the opportunity to approach it in a way she never would have done before she died.
Our heroine has a time limit on getting this to work. What appealed to you about giving her a deadline?
I love books and films in which there’s a ticking time clock for the heroine — It always keeps me on the edge of my seat. I thought this would be especially good for Delphie because she’s always taken a back seat in her own life and now she has no choice but to get off her bottom and make things happen. Her life literally depends on it!
Did you want to say something grander about the afterlife or where we go at the end, or is that secondary to the love story here?
So often it takes drastic measures for us to see the ways in which we need to change. How would you live if you knew you were likely to die in ten days? Would you be braver? Would you say the things you were always too scared to say? Would you lean into the parts of you that you always kept hidden for fear of embarrassment? How far would you go to find love if it was your very last chance to experience it? I found it thrilling to explore these themes!
What do you hope whoever greets you in the waiting room says?
“I’ve missed you. You’re radiant. They serve bottomless apple pie here.”
Excerpt from 'The Love of My Afterlife' by Kristy Greenwood
‘Dead, huh?’ he grimaces, reminding us both of the s--- circumstances in which we find ourselves. My shoulders slump again. It had been a relief to forget reality for a couple of minutes.
‘Dead,’ I repeat gently. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘F---. I had so many plans this August. What a gutter to miss London during the summer. It really is something magical,’ he bites his objectively juicy looking bottom lip. ‘The best city on earth.’
I immediately think of how the piles of bin bags on the street start to stink in the heat of the summer sun. How the rats become bold enough to emerge in the daylight and look you right in the eye, how the onslaught of tourists arriving into Paddington Train Station wheel their gigantic suitcases down my road at midnight, waking me up. I think of the chewy smog that feels unbearable when it’s warmed up in rush hour. Like pollution stew.
‘Definitely.’ I nod. ‘Magical.’
I glance down at the man’s tanned hands on my arms. It feels quite lovely, his skin on my skin. Usually when people touch me I get sweaty and anxious, the urge to either run away or kick them in the shin intensifying with each second of contact. But this? It feels... pleasing. Steady and soft and sensual all at the same time. Like a warm bubble bath on a brittle February day.
The man sees me staring at his hands on my arms and quickly removes them, shoving them into the pockets of his blue jeans.
‘Yikes. Sorry. I didn’t realise I was totally grabbing you. Bit weird. Promise I’m not a perv.’
‘It’s okay.’ I tuck my hair behind my ears and giggle. I don’t think I’ve giggled since two thousand and eleven.
‘This is strange,’ his eyes narrow. ‘And it probably sounds totally like a line but... I... feel like I’ve met you before. Like I know you...Does that sound nuts? It does, right?’
I nod quickly because I realise I feel the exact same way. I mean, I know I’ve never met this man before. I know that. But, right now, I’m experiencing a sort of peaceful sensation that I haven’t felt around anyone else before. It’s like this man knows me. Like he already knows all my foibles and bad habits and stressy thoughts and he couldn’t give a hoot. Like he likes me despite, well me. Like I’ve been missing him my whole life. It’s a strange feeling. A good feeling. My eyes scan his face. His teeth, his strong straight nose and the exact cornflower blue of his eyes remind me an awful lot of Mr Taylor, which is odd because I was just talking about him. The man’s gaze runs over my face and lingers on my lips for a moment. My whole body starts to tingle and fizz in response, like I’m a glittery snow globe that’s just been shaken. Everything surrounding me fades in comparison to the brightness of his presence. Who the hell is this man?
He laughs self-consciously and runs a hand across his jaw. ‘So, er, do you come here often?’ He leans against the wall and does a silly over-the-top face. I grin, once more forgetting where I am or that I am, in fact, dead. This beautiful stranger is looking at me like no-one has ever looked at me my entire life. Like I’m fascinating and pretty, and not in any way a loser.
‘You’re so young.’ He frowns. ‘Too young to die.’
‘You too.’
‘Sucks.’
‘Blows.’
‘At least we’ll always be hot, I guess? Preserved.’
He said it. He thinks I’m hot. With my hair one day past acceptably unwashed and my weird nightdress. My cheeks flame. What is happening right now?
‘Preserved,’ I murmur. ‘Like lemon curd.’
He laughs out loud. ‘Lemon curd?’ He takes a step closer to me, his voice suddenly low and intimate.’ Tell me your name.’
I notice that his pupils are almost fully dilated. I… I think this is chemistry! This is what it feels like to have instant chemistry with someone. Wow.
‘My name is Delphie. Delphie Bookham.’
‘It’s good to meet you, Delphie Bookham.’ He holds out his hand and I take it. But we don’t shake. We just hold hands. If this were a film there’d be sweeping orchestral music playing, a camera circling us as we stare at each other, maybe a cacophony of fireworks popping off overhead.
‘What’s your name?’ I return.
‘I’m Jonah. Jonah T’
I don’t get to hear the rest of his name because the door to Merritt’s office slams open and she runs in, goggling at Jonah and me. We jump apart and Merritt, who appears to be holding a piece of fax paper, strides over, blonde curls bouncing with each step.
‘Hi!’ she says through a gritted sort of smile, wide eyes blinking rapidly. ‘Jonah, right?’
‘Um, yeah?’ his voice breaks a little with shock at the interruption. He clears his throat and tries again. ‘Yes. That’s me.’
‘Hello Jonah! Sooooo, I’m afraid there’s been a tiny little mix up – it sometimes happens, but nothing to worry about.’
‘What is it?’ Jonah asks. He is no longer relaxed. His face has turned a ghostly white colour.
‘Yeah,’ Merritt blows the air out through her cheeks. ‘So good news as it turns out! You are not actually dead, Jonah. Thing is, you’re just what we term an “unconscious visitor”. Our systems can get a bit screwy and deliver us people who are not ready to be here.’ Her eyes snag on the fax in her hand. ‘Not for a very long time as it happens. So...’
And then, before Jonah or I can say or do anything, Merritt steps forward and presses her thumb right into the middle of Jonah’s forehead. I scream as his whole body starts to shimmer before sort of bursting like a wet blowing bubble that’s just been popped.
I look down at my hand, the one that was just holding his.
It’s empty.
No, no no!
I think… I think I might have just met the only person I was ever truly supposed to meet.
And now he’s gone.
From THE LOVE OF MY AFTERLIFE published by arrangement with Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2023 by Kirsty Greenwood.
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