TENDER IS THE FLESH (Cadáver Exquisito) By Agustina Bazterrica
My quip: subtle themes of feminism
Today’s Topic: Tender is the Flesh (Cadáver Exquisito) by Agustina Bazterrica
From the Top: Just over 52,000 words, and this book proves to be more of a subliminal emotional rollercoaster than the average grocery shopping experience in the United States. A shocking debut of horrifying minimalism, Tender is the Flesh is the kind of book that you won’t want to set down, but may have to if you have IBS (or any form of stomach sensitivity). Similar to the unsettling discomfort of yanking out one strand of hair or accidentally lifting a nail bed briefly against the edge of a table, Bazterrica’s flavor of horror is breakneck, deliciously nauseating, and will not be easily forgotten in the annals of any reader’s sensational memory. Set in the near future of an undisclosed South American nation, the government has legalized mass-production and consumption of human meat as a solution to widespread contamination of all other non-human animal tissue.
*Sidenote: this book was written in 2017, but is racked with observations so uncanny and particular to the recent pandemic of COVID-19, I’m intensely suspicious of Bazterrica’s soothsaying abilities and will be looking to her works for catastrophic sagesse, indefinitely.
My Quip: Aside from sharp observance on the ramifications of climate change, consumption, survival, complicity and cruelty, there are also tones of intrinsic misogyny planted deep within this novel. The intriguing and sneaky rhetoric made by Bazterrica is so on purpose and an umami of feminism that might not be obvious upon a single read.
The central character, Marcos Tejo, (whose name isn’t mentioned in the English translation and is delectably replaced with the pronouns he/his/him) has four main women tied to him across the short span of this story:
His estranged wife, Cecilia
His casual f*ck, a butcher named Spanel
His sister, Marisa
And Jasmine, a character whose place can’t be named here because…well, I won’t spoil it for you.
And each character is only depicted within the scope of Tejos’ stoic and utilitarian perspective. Be that as it may, there are subtle descriptors and behaviors of these women caught “off-camera” unbeknownst to Tejo in an act of dramatic irony on Bazterrica’s part. And the details he does notice only magnify this element of characterization and plot.
What’s more, there appears to only be the polarized experiences of male/female presented through Tejo’s perception. No room is left for what lies in the middle of the spectrum of gender expression. I suspect this is also on purpose and indicative of the present-day patriarchal overtones still clinging to Latin culture despite the strong and ever-growing movements of feminist communities within Latin nations. I invite discussion concerning this topic in response to my review by those who identify as Latino/Latina/Latinx as my knowledge is still very limited.
Tie it Off: For all fans of gore, satire, and minimalism in literature–just f*cking read this book.