Ben
Tender Is The Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica, published in 2020, imagines a world where a virus makes all animals deadly to humans, forcing humanity to turn to “special meat” harvested from humans. The story follows Marcos, a butcher wrestling with loss, grief, and a society that has re-learned how to name its victims.
The novel interrogates language, dehumanization, and the ethics of survival. Bazterrica repeatedly shows how words reshape reality: “lava that’s cold and viscous” and “Nullify, he thinks, another world that silences the horror.” By renaming people as “heads,” the regime enforces a chilling bureaucratic cruelty.
Bazterrica’s prose is sparse yet vivid; the body-horror scenes are visceral without feeling gratuitous. When the mysterious guest arrives, Marcos shifts from passive compliance to active rebellion, a pivot that propels the narrative toward its unsettling climax. The pacing accelerates in the later half, mirroring Marcos’s mental unraveling, and the climax feels like a fever dream-disorienting, unsettling, and oddly hopeful.
I knew this book was about cannibalism but I wasn’t sure how it would be presented. I usually don’t have expectations when reading a book. I try to go in fresh so everything is a surprise. There are some standard horror conventions like body horror and gore. There’s also some thriller elements too. Overall I think it was a really well told story.
If you love dystopian tales that blend horror with philosophical inquiry—think The Handmaid’s Tale meets The Silence of the Lambs—you’ll find Tender Is the Flesh both disturbing and thought‑provoking. Just be prepared for graphic scenes and a bleak worldview.
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ The unsettling climax, where a new child is born from a “gifted” head and Marcos’s wife returns, is what ultimately convinced me of the novel’s power.
Originally posted at unremarkable.quest.
Tender Is The Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica, published in 2020, imagines a world where a virus makes all animals deadly to humans, forcing humanity to turn to “special meat” harvested from humans. The story follows Marcos, a butcher wrestling with loss, grief, and a society that has re-learned how to name its victims.
The novel interrogates language, dehumanization, and the ethics of survival. Bazterrica repeatedly shows how words reshape reality: “lava that’s cold and viscous” and “Nullify, he thinks, another world that silences the horror.” By renaming people as “heads,” the regime enforces a chilling bureaucratic cruelty.
Bazterrica’s prose is sparse yet vivid; the body-horror scenes are visceral without feeling gratuitous. When the mysterious guest arrives, Marcos shifts from passive compliance to active rebellion, a pivot that propels the narrative toward its unsettling climax. The pacing accelerates in the later half, mirroring Marcos’s mental unraveling, and the climax feels like a fever dream-disorienting, unsettling, and oddly hopeful.
I knew this book was about cannibalism but I wasn’t sure how it would be presented. I usually don’t have expectations when reading a book. I try to go in fresh so everything is a surprise. There are some standard horror conventions like body horror and gore. There’s also some thriller elements too. Overall I think it was a really well told story.
If you love dystopian tales that blend horror with philosophical inquiry—think The Handmaid’s Tale meets The Silence of the Lambs—you’ll find Tender Is the Flesh both disturbing and thought‑provoking. Just be prepared for graphic scenes and a bleak worldview.
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ The unsettling climax, where a new child is born from a “gifted” head and Marcos’s wife returns, is what ultimately convinced me of the novel’s power.
Originally posted at unremarkable.quest.
