Herschel Wohl was many things: 
twice-divorced astrologer, pharmacology professor, failed novelist, on-the-lam drug-runner, insubordinate help desk operator, manual typewriter thief, Aikido white belt, consummate pothead, possible communist, and temporary resident of the little known Dutch Antilles island of Statia. 

He was also a father. And when he died unexpectedly a few days before his 71st birthday, his adult son Michael had to travel four thousand miles and overcome four decades’ worth of filial resentment to pick up Herschel’s pieces. Along the way he had to reconnect with a forgotten half-brother, reconcile with an overeducated yet underachieving sister, and confront his ambivalence about religion.

With no modern funerary services available 
on the tiny island, the three estranged siblings endured a comedy of errors as they attempted to bury their enigmatic and reluctant patriarch as if it were an ancient ritual—by hand. They had to build a coffin from scratch, clean and prepare the body themselves; and lay to rest their mixed feelings about their charismatic but irresponsible dad along with his remains—all while circumventing the overly bureaucratic small-town government and the petty despot who ran it.