Denial of Death, or what a book about death taught me about living
London – 3 June 2026
Some books rearrange the furniture in your mind.
For me, one of those was The Denial of Death by the cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker: a slim, dense, and unexpectedly inspirational read that won the Pulitzer Prize in 1974, two months after Becker himself had died (Becker, 1973).
I came to it expecting something bleak. What I found instead was a book that helped me see myself, other people, and the world with a good deal more perspective and a good deal less fear.
Becker's big idea
Becker's argument is disarmingly simple.
We are the one animal that knows it will die and most of what we do, he suggests, is a way of not quite looking at that fact.
We live in two worlds at once: a physical, mortal body, and a symbolic self that dreams, plans, and reaches for meaning.
To bridge the gap, we throw ourselves into what Becker calls "immortality projects": the work, families, beliefs, and causes through which we hope to become part of something that outlasts us.
None of that is foolish. It's human. But when those projects quietly run our lives without our noticing, we can end up anxious, driven, and strangely disconnected from the very life we're working so hard to justify.
The freeing paradox
Here's the part I didn't expect.
Naming our impermanence – actually thinking and talking about how brief and fragile life is – turns out to be freeing rather than frightening.
When I stopped treating mortality as something to swerve around, a lot of the noise got quieter.
The endless self-comparison, the inflated stakes, the sense of being mysteriously behind in some race no one ever explained… much of it loosened its grip.
Seen against the backdrop of our ephemerality, the ordinary day becomes more, not less, precious.
We feel a little less lost, because we stop waiting for life to begin somewhere up ahead and start noticing the one we're already in.
And with that comes something surprisingly empowering: a sense of control.
Not control over the universe (because we don't get that…), but over the stance we take toward it.
We are ultimately in charge of generating our own life philosophy, and of trying to live in accordance with it, whatever the world throws at us.
That is the gift hiding inside a book about death.
Why I bring existentialism into the therapy room
This is also why I draw on existential ideas in my work when they fit.
Existentialism, running from Kierkegaard, on whom Becker leans heavily, through to the existential therapists, takes seriously the "givens" of being human: that we will die, that we are freer (and more responsible) than we'd like, that we are ultimately alone in our own experience, and that meaning is something we make rather than find (Yalom, 1980).
Far from being abstract or gloomy, these themes get to the heart of so much of what people actually carry today: the burnout, the perfectionism, the "is this it?" questions that arrive in midlife or after a big change.
When it's the right fit, gently turning toward these questions, rather than away from them, can be one of the most steadying, clarifying things we do together.
If your own immortality projects have started to feel more like a burden than a calling, it might be worth getting curious about why.
Sometimes the most life-affirming conversation begins with the very thing we're trying hardest not to think about.
If you'd like to read it for yourself, Becker's The Denial of Death is available on Amazon.
Be warned that it's a chewy read, but a rewarding one.
Further reading
Becker, E. (1973). The Denial of Death. New York: Free Press. (Awarded the Pulitzer Prize for General Nonfiction, 1974.)
Solomon, S., Greenberg, J., & Pyszczynski, T. (2015). The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life. New York: Random House. (Develops the experimental psychology — "terror management theory" — that grew out of Becker's work.)
Yalom, I. D. (1980). Existential Psychotherapy. New York: Basic Books.
This article is for general information and reflection and is not a substitute for individual therapy.
Sorin Floti is a BACP-registered counsellor and coach offering online and in-person sessions in Battersea / Clapham Junction (SW11), London.