I FOUND THE BOOK in the new fiction section of my local public library, the place where I discover reading materials that grow me, stretch me, teach me, and, yes, entertain me. The Funeral Ladies of Ellerie County by Claire Swinarski fits all four of those categories. I love this book. Underline love.
I did not expect this reaction when I randomly pulled the novel from the shelf, drawn by its catchy title printed in a colorful font, drawn by the simple cover art of a lakeside Northwoods cabin. I do, indeed, judge a book by its covers, front and then back synopsis. These covers hit all the marks for me, someone who appreciates stories rooted in rural. Stories that are simple, yet complex. Stories that make me think, that tap into my empathy, that move me. Stories that are strong in place.
In some ways, this book reminds me of the writing of Minnesotan Lorna Landvik, author of the popular Patty Jane’s House of Curls, The Tall Pine Polka, Once in a Blue Moon Lodge and more, most of which I have read. But the author of The Funeral Ladies of Ellerie County hails from neighboring Wisconsin, which is similar to Minnesota, but different.
At the heart of this story are the funeral ladies, a group of long-time friends who prepare meals for mourners at St. Anne’s Catholic Church. Casseroles—not hotdish as we call casseroles in Minnesota—concocted with canned cream soups. Shredded beef. Peanut butter bars. Pies made with Door County cherries. Food for the body and soul. This reminded me of the Reception Committee in my childhood home church on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. That group of Lutheran women prepared funeral hotdishes comprised of hamburger, pasta, a vegetable and assorted canned cream soups with salt and pepper for seasoning. The recipes are published in the 1985 St. John’s Anniversary Cookbook. The covers of that cookbook have fallen off my tattered copy. A cookbook is central to Swinarski’s novel.
The point here is that The Funeral Ladies of Ellerie County is absolutely relatable for me. I felt comfortably at home with the story initially, even when I learned of a heartbreaking scam involving main character Esther Larson. That shapes the story. Then the story-line focus shifts from friendship, faith and family to tough topics after a Food Network star and his children arrive to bury his estranged wife in her hometown.
Without revealing too much of the plot, know that family relationships, love and trauma weave into this novel. That trauma is post traumatic stress disorder, experienced by paramedic Cooper Welsh after participating in a holiday parade interrupted by a deadly shooting. In real-life, six people died in November 2021 when a driver plowed his SUV into a Christmas parade in Waukesha, Wisconsin, killing six and injuring many others. I expect Swinarski patterned her fictional tragedy loosely after this event or the many other mass shootings this country experiences.
I appreciate that the author, even in this fictional account of such violence and its personal aftermath, writes with authenticity. As a reader, I felt emotionally invested. I was rooting for Cooper and for those who love him. Swinarski doesn’t just touch on PTSD. She dives into it head on, writing in her acknowledgments that she talked to individuals dealing with PTSD to craft Cooper’s life story. That research shows.
She writes, too, in an authentic Wisconsin voice with a strong sense of place. Noodles in chili (yes, it’s a thing in Wisconsin). Beer not wine. Brandy old-fashioneds, Wisconsin’s signature drink. Supper clubs. And eating at the popular Wisconsin-based fast food chain, Culver’s.
There are so many reasons to love The Funeral Ladies of Ellerie County. Even if you’re a Lutheran from Minnesota who eats hotdishes, not casseroles.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
An April 1 commentary about candy, but not really April 1, 2025
Tags: April 1, April Fool's Day, candy, commentary, fiction, opinion, short story, The Land of Plenty, thoughts
ONCE UPON A TIME in The Land of Plenty, there lived a ruler who, before he took office, declared that he would be king for a day, or some such wordage. He relished power and absolute control with the zeal of a kid unleashed in a candy store. Except even kids in a candy shop realize they can’t devour every piece of sticky taffy, every morsel of chocolate, every jelly bean in sight. Their stomachs would hurt. And they would soon be barfing all over the kingdom.
But the narcissistic leader, who promised to make the country the best it had ever been (because he craved praise and power), apparently did not understand this about consuming too much candy. Or he didn’t care. Once in office, the-man-who-would-be-king gathered his team, granting unfettered powers to one of them in particular. He pulled out his guidebook and magical pen and scrawled his signature across endless pieces of paper imprinted with orders to create an even more wonderful and efficient Land of Plenty, at least in his eyes. Such was his insatiable desire for adoration, domination and control. His plan to become king for a day extended well beyond a day into mindless infinity.
He proposed acquiring more land to add to his empire, focusing his efforts on the countries of Adanac and Dnalneerg, both of which wanted nothing to do with him, understandably so. But that didn’t stop the ruler from obsessing on the topic, for he was a determined man. Do this. Do that. Say this. Say that. Toss out an endless stream of threats and vitriol and perhaps some of it would stick like gum to the bottom of a shoe.
On and on it went. Each day something new. More taxes, which he called “tariffs” and a good thing for his subjects. He advised those who farmed the land to “have fun.” He fooled no one (OK, maybe some too many) with his spin on tariffs. Mass firings, deportations, funding cuts, closures and more (too many actions to count really) happened daily under the ruler’s authoritarian hand.
If anyone protested, spoke up or voiced opposition, the ruthless leader worked to quiet them. There were street snatchings and threats. Intimidation. Disrespect. Denial. Deflection. Distraction. Lies. Verbal attacks. He used all sorts of tactics to create fear, to suppress anyone who disagreed with him, his team and his/their words and actions. That included bullying the printers, lawyers and judges of the land, calling them all sorts of derogatory names. He threatened to come after them, to silence them, to show them who held the power. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes not.
Yet, one plan appealed to the unsuspecting masses. And that was the opening of more candy stores, with promises to give away millions, perhaps even billions, of pounds of candy. To qualify, subjects needed only to sign an irrevocable loyalty pledge, which seemed reasonable on the surface. But there’s always the fine print. They would need to agree with the mighty ruler’s ideology and actions or risk losing four years of a free candy supply or, worse yet, be locked up for rebellious attitudes or other so-called subversive acts. If the subjects looked even closer at the fine print, they would see that candy shops were forbidden from carrying chocolate. Surely that would be the deal breaker for most because, well, who doesn’t love chocolate? All candy, in fact, was to be colorless.
But most failed to read the fine print, so focused were they on a four-year supply of free candy. Such a sweet deal. They trusted that the ruler had their best interests in mind. He didn’t. Even kids understand that too much candy can cause a tummy ache that leaves them regretting their selfish gluttony.
This, my friends, is no April Fool’s Day joke.
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FYI: While this short story is written as fiction, it is (as is most fiction) rooted in truth. It is also a commentary, a way for me to use my voice. Whether you agree or disagree with the content is your prerogative and right. Just note, though, that this is my personal blog and that I moderate all comments and have the final say in those I choose to publish or not.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling