Synopsis:
Working at the local processing plant, Marcos is in the business of slaughtering humans—though no one calls them that anymore.
His wife has left him, his father is sinking into dementia, and Marcos tries not to think too hard about how he makes a living. After all, it happened so quickly. First, it was reported that an infectious virus has made all animal meat poisonous to humans. Then governments initiated the “Transition.” Now, eating human meat—“special meat”—is legal. Marcos tries to stick to numbers, consignments, processing.
Then one day he’s given a gift: a live specimen of the finest quality. Though he’s aware that any form of personal contact is forbidden on pain of death, little by little he starts to treat her like a human being. And soon, he becomes tortured by what has been lost—and what might still be saved. – taken from Goodreads
I picked up Tender is the Flesh when it was announced as the pick for November’s Horror book club at one of my new favourite stores Argonaut books. Well, initially I purchased a copy of the book from Argonauts, however, when I came home I had a niggling feeling that the cover looked familiar. Lo and behold, when I checked on my bookshelves I had a copy already in place. A feature read in the Abominable Book Club subscription box back in April 2021. The very kind workers at Argo’ had a laugh with me when I went and asked if I could return the book. Unfortunately, I could not attend the event due to a family matter, and it took me some time to get back into the book.
Once I hit my stride, I could not put this book down and without resorting to spoilers the ending left me sucker punched to the point that I immediately grabbed a glass of strong wine to wash down the final scenes. This book is disturbing, so with trepidation, I fully admit that it is right up my alley. The more uncomfortable a horror can make me the more I will be sucked in.
The flow and style of the writing kept me hooked even though I stopped and started again. Some scenes are gory, gruesome and just downright traumatising, but nothing ever feels like it was added for shock value. The way that the dystopian hellscape Bazterrica has put together has been crafted gives each atrocity described its proper place and time.
The focal character of the narrative is a broken man in a changed world still reeling from a devastating virus that infected and killed most animals. Government-sanctioned cannibalism is what keeps the meat industry going and our guy is a key cog in the machine. New terms and phrases keep a ‘healthy’ distance between the business and the reality of “special meat” production and everyone just let this “new normal” carry them along.
Marcos (as we seldom hear the main character named) is alone. His wife has moved out, his father has slipped deep into dementia and his sister only reaches out when she needs something (often to alleviate her guilt at abandoning her brother and father). He is beginning to doubt not just his own position, but the order of society as a whole. Then as he seems to be wrestling with the question of who has the right to distinguish between a human and a “domestic head” he has an unwelcome “gift” thrust upon him by an associate in the meat trade. A “female head” of the highest quality “special meat” is delivered to his home and now he has no reprieve from facing what his industry does. Marcos struggles with his feelings about the female as a “product” and begins to blur the line of new societal rules, violation of which can lead to execution and possible addition to the production line.
There were far more hateable characters than lovable ones, but this choice suits the theme of the book. Each character we meet has to some degree embraced the new normal of eating human meat. We meet a butcher, a tanner and a member of the upper echelon of society who put on elaborate hunting parties all of who apply their skills vigorously to the new meat and a “keeping up with the Joneses” type house-wife. Each of these characters is hated and yet tolerated by our seldom named protagonist and each shows a new level of horrific adaptation following the “transition”.
I felt that this book had a powerful message about how easy it can be, in the right situation, to dehumanise your fellow man. The narrative can be seen as a commentary on one of the most persistent issues in human history; arbitrary segregation. Whether someone is black/white, blue eyed/brown eyed. Anything that creates a ‘them’ and ‘us’ divide. This is seen within the body of the novel via the terms ‘human’ and ‘head’; the districting insisted upon by the narrative world’s government. I found a few points in the narrative where I found myself reminiscing about the research of Stanley Milgram and Phillip Zimbardo about conforming to authority and being able to treat others as lesser when given the order/opportunity (the Stanford Prison experiment makes for an interesting if harrowing read). I also found it to be a prime example of using the genre of horror to explore a social issue, perhaps a lot of people would prefer remain hidden behind a vale of exaggerated fiction.
Keiara Reads 