Book Reviews: The Loved One

“Tomorrow and on every anniversary as long as the Happier Hunting Ground existed a postcard would go to Mr. Joyboy: Your little Aimée is wagging her tail in heaven tonight, thinking of you."
- Evelyn Waugh, The Loved One

The Loved One by Evelyn Waugh is a short story and  morbid comedy that digs into Hollywood’s funeral industry complex. It’s fascinating to see the way Waugh handles the subject—sharp, satirical, and oddly prophetic. The book offers a glimpse of death as commodity, perhaps one of the earliest accounts of an industry that would soon take hold.

Waugh unabashedly illustrates the irony of death through his English protagonist, Dennis Barlow. To his fellow countrymen, Barlow has tarnished his dignity as an Englishman by working at the Happier Hunting Ground, a pet crematorium and cemetery—a setting that perfectly captures the novel’s dark humor. In contrast stands Mr. Joyboy, a sparkling yet suffocated employee of Whispering Glades—not a resting place for pets, but for humans. The two characters already feel at odds, but the tension sharpens when a love triangle emerges between them and Aimée, who prepares the dead for display at Whispering Glades.

An Early Indication: Sir Francis Hinsley 

Barlow lives with another expatriate, Sir Francis Hinsley, who once had a career as a writer in Hollywood. However, Sir Hinsley is fired in a particularly cruel fashion—upon arriving at work, he finds someone else sitting in his seat. Unable to cope with this humiliation, he takes his own life. Through Sir Hinsley, Waugh seems to expose the despicable nature of people working in Hollywood (and perhaps in the U.S. more broadly). There are no principles of loyalty or gratitude—qualities that Sir Hinsley demonstrated throughout his career—and he isn’t even given the courtesy of a proper farewell. In other words, everyone is dispensable.

What’s fascinating about this early episode is Barlow’s reaction. Waugh reveals exactly who Barlow is as he visits Whispering Glades to plan Sir Hinsley’s funeral—distant, despondent, and remarkably indifferent. He isn’t swayed by the somber surroundings, and though he came to Hollywood hoping to be a writer, he shows none of the sentimentality or soul often associated with the profession. Instead, he methodically plans the funeral, using the opportunity to gather knowledge about Whispering Glades that he can later profit from at his job at the Happier Hunting Ground.

Barlow couldn’t care less about what’s happening around him, fully absorbed in himself and his desire to make it in America, somehow, someway. A similar attitude emerges later in his interactions with Aimée—calculated and opportunistic, he tries to take full advantage of her naivety. I find it ironic that throughout the book, Barlow struggles with writer’s block—a detail that suggests he may be incapable of being a true writer, since he seems to feel nothing beyond his own self-interest. Even in his “courtship” of Aimée, he sends her poems by famous authors, revealing that his goal is not a genuine connection but simply to get what he wants from her.

Aimée As A Symbol of Female Loss

Aimée Thanatogenos finds herself caught in a love triangle between Mr. Joyboy and Barlow—unwillingly. It’s clear that neither suitor is truly good for her. Having already endured significant hardship—a neglectful, alcoholic mother and an absent father—she now faces life without either parent and forms no meaningful connections beyond these two men. Vulnerable and isolated, Aimée has no one to confide in or seek comfort from, except through her letters to a “Guru,” whom I’ll examine in a separate section.

Aimée fails to see a third option: marrying no one. She doesn’t have to choose between the soulless Barlow and the mama’s boy, Mr. Joyboy. She could choose herself and recognize that she deserves better. Yet, whether due to her innocence or lack of awareness, Aimée is unable to cope with the emotional turmoil and tragically ends her life in Mr. Joyboy’s office—ironically, at Whispering Glades, a funeral home and her place of work. 

There’s a lot of speculation about what might have happened if Aimée had female friends, confided in someone at work, or left Whispering Glades and Hollywood to start anew. But alas, Aimée is like many women from troubled backgrounds—isolated, vulnerable, and ultimately prey to the men around her, who seek to consume her rather than help her soar. 

What makes me feel sick is how Mr. Joyboy and Barlow handle Aimée’s death, disposing of her body at the Happier Hunting Ground, the pet cemetery. Mr. Joyboy is more concerned with protecting his reputation, while Barlow simply returns to the U.K. Aimée becomes just another notch on their belt. One might argue that Mr. Joyboy genuinely cared for her and showed some affection, but in the end, he’s no different from Barlow—he chooses his career and reputation over giving her a dignified funeral.

It’s heartbreaking to see Aimée buried at a pet cemetery, as if Barlow and Mr. Joyboy equated her life to that of an animal. Aimée herself valued Whispering Glades deeply and cherished the spirituality of her work there, so this act feels like a profound blow—not only to her memory, but also to the very essence of who she was. How many stories have we forgotten as a result of men trying to dispose of their “mistakes"?

The Larger Issue with The Guru

The Guru is presented as an almighty figure, someone who supposedly holds all the answers to life’s problems. He writes columns and responds to letters from those seeking his wisdom. In reality, however, he is just a sluggish, middle-aged man—and, true to Waugh’s satirical vision, he too is disposable, ultimately being fired from his position. 

Aimée’s relationship with the Guru is alarming because, throughout the book, she turns to him rather than confiding in a real person. She writes letters asking for guidance as she struggles to decide between marrying Barlow or Mr. Joyboy, relying on a figure who is ultimately incapable of offering real support. The Guru’s visible annoyance with Aimée’s letters illustrates that his role is merely a means to an end—he doesn’t genuinely care about the people seeking his advice. He sees Aimée as spoiled and bratty for failing to recognize Mr. Joyboy’s affections, even though Mr. Joyboy’s own behavior, particularly his complicated relationship with his mother, reveals how deeply problematic he really is.

The Guru feels like something we can all relate to—how many of us seek guidance from a higher power? How many of us long for someone who has all the answers? And, more glaringly, how many of us actually follow those answers? In her desperation at the end of the novel, Aimée calls the Guru for help, only for us to discover he’s at a bar. He hands the phone to the bartender and doesn’t even listen to her pleas for guidance. His careless response—telling Aimée to “fall off somewhere”—implies that she should take her own life.

What if the Guru had cared enough to say something different? Perhaps Aimée would still be alive. Ironically, she repeatedly insists that she is not religious, yet in the end, her faith in the Guru effectively substitutes for some form of religion.

Happier Hunting Ground & Whispering Glades

Ultimately, both the Happier Hunting Ground and Whispering Glades profit from loss—one from the death of pets, the other from the death of humans. Waugh contrasts these two locations early in the novel, but by the end, through Aimée’s tragic death, the lines are disturbingly blurred.

The commercialization of death is hardly new. In early history, wealthy individuals paid to be buried closer to the church, hoping to be nearer to God. Similarly, during the Victorian era, death became a commodity through fashion and jewelry, with women wearing specific clothing and accessories to signal mourning.

Waugh’s The Loved One exposes the ways in which death has long been commodified, highlighting human vanity, moral emptiness, and the exploitation inherent in these industries. From the pet cemetery to Whispering Glades, from Aimée’s tragic fate to the Guru’s indifference, the novel satirizes how profit, reputation, and self-interest often take precedence over empathy, dignity, and genuine human connection. Even today, the echoes of this commercialization persist, reminding us that beneath the surface of solemn rituals, there can lie a marketplace—and that human folly, ambition, and soullessness are never too far away.