The Four Legged Victim
Every time I see, hear or even think about where/what meat comes from; that’s when I want to become a vegetarian. Anthony Bourdain pushes us as readers during this section to be as uncomfortable as we possibly can. At least, that’s how I felt. I started to feel sick when I read this portion and that’s why I specifically wanted to reflect on it. I feel like that must be something that imposes a lot of talent on a writer; being able to project strong emotions on the reader. Ill feelings treaded towards me as I thought about the poor pig and how no one else seemed to be thinking about that poor pig. At first when I initially read this section of the assigned reading, I began to feel mad at him. I was mad that he was watching the killing of the pig and complaining about how gruesome it was, yet, he didn’t do anything about it or truly decide to change anything pertaining to the future. But then, I started to like him. I liked that he was honest about how conflicted he felt. He understood the concept that he felt something by watching this scarring moment, but also was able to distance himself and acknowledge the fact that he was a chef and he needed to continue cooking with meat, taking meat out altogether wasn’t an option for him. I liked how he said he was going to really think about the meat and about saving it and savoring it, just like the people who lived in Portugal were doing.
It did make me uncomfortable, however, when everyone was singing the song about the pig. That part was really unsettling to me. It wasn’t the people’s fault of course, they were doing what they were used to doing. It was the actual concept that people (in general) can get to the point where they become so desensitized to things that other people find absurd. This forced me to reflect on the things I do in my day-to-day life. I found that within the first section of the book, I was able to relate to a lot of what Bourdain was saying, and I liked that he gave me the privilege of looking into his thoughts.
Hey Abby,
ReplyDeleteI really appreciate how honest you are in dissecting your thought processes. I also was squeamish during the description of "Where Food Comes From". Unlike you though, I did not feel angry at Bourdain. I felt a lot of guilt (for not giving vegetarianism a fair shot and for consuming so much meat in my life.) Then I realized that Bourdain had similar feelings and that anyone staring an animal down in its last moments would probably feel similarly. Also, I actually felt a great deal of respect for the people who killed the pig and the community when they sung the song. They said how the pig was strong and gave a fair fight, something that feels much more intimate than buying prepackaged bacon at the grocery store. Thanks for sharing your thoughts on this scene in particular, Abby. It made me question my own impressions of Bourdain's attitude and the community's treatment of the pig.
I also thought this part was very gruesome! More importantly though, I thought it was interesting how Anthony described the insensitivity of the kids to the screaming of the pig. He even makes the dark, almost sickening observation that, if an ice cream truck happened to be passing by, the kids would probably have gone running to it as though nothing grotesque had been going on at all. I thought that imagery was very powerful, and it made me feel similar to the way you described in your post.
ReplyDeleteI think part of his brilliance is in being the stand in for the reader. Those of us who aren't vegetarians, for example, by and large are removed from the gruesome reality of where our food comes from and what it requires to receive a nice, neat little package of "food" that actually comes from a once-living creature. We have the privilege to turn away from the blood and guts, the killing and violence of it. I have deep respect for a cultural practice that makes the eater intimate with that process. And what we're rubbing up against is, indeed, cultural difference. In U.S. culture, we generally don't share in this practice, unless we're hunters or meat producers. Does that make us superior? I think it's important to sit with the discomfort of this and ask ourselves difficult questions about what it all means--not just individually, but collectively.
ReplyDeleteI like how you describe your feelings towards this chapter. There is no need to be vegetarian to feel bad while reading this part in which he gives a detailed description of the slaughtering of the pig. I still feel that impotence when I see the slaughter of any animal, which in the place I live is quite normal and kind of celebration and tradition. I understand very well the lack of reaction of the children to the screaming of the pig, but I think that it is not insensitivity but part of their culture.
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