Two Superb Short Stories

Recently I’ve been enjoying lots of new series, such as Robert Galbraith’s Cormoran Strike series, the Death Note manga and lots and lots of Agatha Christie novels. Before I dive much further into all these new interests, I thought this would be a good time to look back over my bookshelves and discuss a few old favourites! So here are two short stories that I would highly recommend!

  1. Boy in Darkness by Mervyn Peake

Of course this macabre tale had to feature on this list – it’s so wonderfully strange and surreal! While the hero of this story is clearly Titus Groan of the Gormenghast series, it can be read in isolation from the series and still make perfect sense. It would be an excellent introduction for anyone new to Peake. I have talked about this story in detail before so suffice to say, it’s an atmospheric, nightmarish tale, which breaks down the boundaries between humans and animals. This is a story best read on a dark night, so close the curtains, dim the lights, and let yourself be absorbed into Peake’s disturbing fantasy.

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2. Please Excuse My Husband, He’s a Vegetarian by Michele Roberts

As a vegetarian, it might be surprising that I’m fond of this story, but I challenge anyone to resist this appealing dark comedy. It tells the story of a British husband and wife trying to settle into life in France; the wife manages to adjust with ease, but the husband’s vegetarian habits are rather baffling to this new society. The wife’s growing frustration is aimed not at their new French neighbours, but instead it’s her unfortunate, oblivious husband that has to face her wrath. I won’t spoil the ending, but even though I recognised some of my own awkward restaurant encounters in this story, it’s an entertaining reminder that not everyone is happy to be accommodating!

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Eating Animals

As a work of non-fiction, Jonathan Safran Foer’s Eating Animals faces a difficult balancing act: it must be personal enough to engage the reader’s interest, but without overlooking the (potentially less engaging) statistics that will endorse its claims. Of all the non-fiction works I’ve read, I have to say that Eating Animals has accomplished this balancing act most successfully. Jonathan Safran Foer forefronts his own position, and the book is in many ways a personal journey for the author, which lends the book a sense of honesty absent from a mere polemic. Eating Animals is not a straightforward account of the evils of meat consumption, but instead an engaging attempt to reconsider our attitudes towards food and its production. The author raises his own doubts, and leaves space for the reader to disagree, as well as including a range of different voices and positions on the issue, including the views of a PETA worker, a vegetarian cattle rancher, and a turkey farmer.

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Eating Animals presents a somewhat philosophical account of our attitudes towards food, presenting both the facts of meat production and a sociological explanation for our dietary decisions. The inclusion of these two somewhat contrasting approaches casts the arguments for and against vegetarianism into a new and illuminating light. The idea of food as part of the narrative of our lives was particularly compelling:

There are thousands of foods on the planet, and explaining why we eat the relatively small selection we do requires some words. We need to explain that the parsley on the plate is for decoration, that pasta is not a ‘breakfast food’, why we eat wings but not eyes, cows but not dogs. Stories establish narratives, and narratives establish rules.

Sharing a meal is an act of sociological significance: we eat with our families and friends, and by eating together, solidify our relationships. To turn down an offer of meat is to exclude yourself from the group, and goes some distance towards explaining why so many people choose simply not to acknowledge the question of animal welfare in the first place.

In one chapter Jonathan Safran Foer raises the issue of the difficulty raised by the keeping of pets: how can we explain the difference between the ‘meat animals’ on our plates and the ‘pet animals’ that share our homes and our hearts? As a pet owner myself, I found myself agreeing with Safran Foer’s description of his dog, George: at times she is part of the family and seems almost human, yet on other occasions she is unknowable, wild, and distinctly dog. This reminded me of Thomas Nagel’s argument: we can know animals well enough to project ourselves onto their experiences of the world, but perhaps we’ll never know how it feels for a dog to be a dog. If we can’t understand animals, does that count as an argument against vegetarianism? Safran Foer defines anthropomorphism as ‘the urge to project human experience onto the other animals, as when my son asks if George will be lonely’. While this may at first seem like a sentimental or romanticised way to consider animals, perhaps applying our understanding of the world to our animal companions is the best we can do. Isn’t it enough simply to know that they feel pain, hunger and affection just as we do?

I can’t recommend Eating Animals highly enough, but only if you’re prepared to re-evaluate your whole approach to food. Eating Animals is not a book to open lightly.

Human

Humans are the only animals that keep children on purpose, keep in touch (or don’t), care about birthdays, waste and lose time, brush their teeth, feel nostalgia, scrub stains, have religions and political parties and laws, wear keepsakes, apologize years after an offense, whisper, fear themselves, interpret dreams, hide their genitalia, shave, bury time capsules, and can choose not to eat something for reasons of conscience. The justifications for eating animals and for not eating them are often identical: we are not them.

Eating Animals, Jonathan Safran Froer

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