Review: Beatrice and Virgil, by Yann Martel

I'll know I'll have read an excellent book when all I can think once I've finished it is WOAH. 

It's as though the wind has been knocked right out of me. 

It's as though nothing is quite like it was before I read the book. That everything is just...different. But in a good way - a different way.

And I won't want to read anything else for a few days afterwards so that I can savour the aforementioned feelings for as long as possible. Just like when I eat something really delicious, like garlic bread, and I won't want to eat anything else after it so that its delicious garlicky flavour can remain on my tastebuds.

That's just how I felt after reading Martel's Beatrice and Virgil. It was flipping great.

In short

Beatrice and Virgil is comprised of two stories. The main one is about Henry, a writer who is struggling to get his latest book published. This predicament comes after the phenomenal success of his previous novel, which was also made into a film (sound familiar?*). 

Feeling desperately dejected and unappreciated, Henry receives a letter from a mysterious fan, requesting Henry's assistance. The assistance required is not specified. So Henry, who is intrigued, sets out to find out more.

The mysterious admirer turns out to be a reclusive taxidermist, also named Henry. Taxidermist Henry is reluctant to reveal too much information about himself; except when he is asked about taxidermy, which he discusses in a surprisingly captivating manner. The mystery surrounding Taxidermist Henry only encourages Original Henry to continue spending time with the former, despite feeling somewhat unsettled in the taxidermist's presence.

It turns out that Taxidermist Henry is struggling with the writing of his own play, and would like Original Henry's assistance with it. This play, featuring the title characters of the novel - Beatrice and Virgil - becomes the secondary storyline of the book.

Beatrice and Virgil are a donkey and howler monkey who have escaped circumstances referred to as 'The Horrors'. Their story, set in a dystopic universe, explores how to cope with experiences that are essentially indescribable.

And so Beatrice and Virgil continues by flipping between Original Henry's peculiar reality and Taxidermist Henry's animal allegory for the remainder of the novel. Along the way, you are taken on a surreal and sometimes obscure philosophical journey; one that at times makes you think, 'Hang on a second Martel, did you really just write that?' But the confident, and often ironic, manner in which Martel writes assures the reader that he knows exactly what he is doing.

Then all of a sudden...BAM!....Beatrice and Virgil comes to an abrupt end. Just like that. Leaving you to wonder, 'My goodness, what on earth just happened there?' 

In three words

Philosophical. Surreal. Beguiling. 

What I liked

• the ideas that Martel plays with. Such as the distinctions between fact and fiction that Martel blurs (pp.6-7):

Tradition holds that the two must be kept apart. That is how our knowledge and impressions of life are sorted in bookstores and libraries - separate aisles, separate floors - and that is how publishers prepare their books, imagination in one package, reason in another. It's not how writers write. A novel is not an entirely unreasonable creation, nor is an essay devoid of imagination. People don't so rigorously separate the imaginative from the rational in their thinking and their actions. There are truths and there are lies - these are the transcendent categories, in books as in life. The useful division is between the fiction and the nonfiction that speaks the truth and the fiction and nonfiction that utters lies. 

• Martel's incredibly exquisite description of a pear. You will never think of pears in the same way again. 

• Ditto with the way Martel discusses taxidermy. His descriptions shed a whole different light on this vocation. Beatrice and Virgil's focus on taxidermy also, coincidentally, has interesting parallels with the last book that I reviewed, Foer's Eating Animals. Particularly this line (p.97): 'But the worst enemy of taxidermy, and also of animals, is indifference. The indifference of the many, combined with the active hatred of the few, has sealed the fate of animals.' 

What irked me

Sometimes I did feel the book was trying to be a bit too clever for its own good. Or like it was mocking me. However I think that was partly Martel's intention; to force his reader to become a bit uncomfortable. But then he also challenges the reader to question that discomfort by asking us if it is really necessary to think about whatever is making us uncomfortable as we always have. Or can we think about things differently? This may all sound cryptic and ambiguous, but that is what you're in for if you read Beatrice and Virgil. I personally enjoy this sort of writing when it's done well, but it could just as easily turn people away.


You will like this if you enjoy reading

• books that play with and challenge the status quo
• books that have make you feel a bit uneasy 
• books that contain multiple storylines for you to follow

My theme song for this book

* the fact that Beatrice and Virgil so closely mirrors Martel's own real-life events has actually been a major criticism of it. As well as the fact that this book, like Life of Pi, contains an animal allegory. Personally I don't consider either of these to be a problem, even if Martel is guilty of being self-indulgent and repetitive. Because I think he has been successful with the two. And if something's working for you, why not give it another crack? But there have been plenty of people to argue otherwise - don't let that stop you from giving Beatrice and Virgil a go though!

Review: Eating Animals, by Jonathan Safran Foer

I have to confess that I usually struggle to finish non-fiction books. I find them quite dry. And there are too many facts in them for me to remember. I end up forgetting most of them by the time I’m a quarter of the way through the book, at which point I'll stop reading it because continuing is simply too counterproductive.

But Eating Animals was different. Prior to reading it I was already a big fan of Foer's fictional works. So when I saw Eating Animals in a bookstore, I was curious to see if his non-fiction would be just as captivating. 

And it was, thanks to Foer’s skillful writing. Foer brought the facts in it to life in such interesting and digestible* ways that the book was just as enjoyable for me to read as many other fictional stories have been. 

And what’s more, I’ve been able to retain many of them, such as:

Pigs are as smart as (and sometimes even smarter than) dogs

Animal agriculture contributes more to global warming
than ALL transportation

Grains fed to animals which become meat for wealthier populations to 
eat could feed starving populations of the world (and have less of a negative
impact on the environment in the process)

In short

Eating Animals deals with the complexities behind eating, and not eating, animals. But don’t let this scare you away from reading this incredibly powerful and informative read, because its purpose is not to convince people to become vegetarian (Foer does however openly oppose factory farming in the USA). 

Instead, it explores the relationships people have with eating animals; which isn’t only related to pleasing our tastebuds, but is also about the stories, cultures and traditions that we celebrate, reject or change when we agree (or disagree) to eat particular products.

The following passage taken from Eating Animals (pp.16-17) is an example of this complex relationship humans have with food. Foer is speaking with his Grandmother, who escaped Nazi-occupied Poland during WWII and spent many months fleeing the Germans:

'The worst it got was near the end. A lot of people died right at the end, and I didn't know if I could make it another day. A farmer, a Russian, God bless him, he saw my condition, and he went into his house and came out with a piece of meat for me.'

"He saved your life."

"I didn't eat it."

"You didn't eat it?"

"It was pork. I wouldn't eat pork."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"What, because it wasn't kosher?"

"Of coarse."

"But not even to save your life?"

"If nothing matters, there's nothing to save."

This powerful passage captures the heart of what Eating Animals is about: just what can, and should, matter when it comes to food?

Foer's exploration of this multifarious topic continues in such a manner, by weaving together stories, philosophical thoughts and facts in very clever ways. It's for this reason that I found Foer's discussion particularly effective, as I didn't feel swamped with slabs of facts which can frequent other non-fiction books. 

I particularly enjoyed the following points Foer presented:

• Why is it acceptable to eat some animals and not others?  For example, we eat pigs. Pigs are as smart as dogs. But we don’t eat dogs even though we could and there are so many put down every year. The latter of which is then processed into more food for animals, creating an inefficient cycle of production and consumption. 

• The idea that 'food is not rational. Food is culture, habit, and identity' (p.263). This makes decisions and reactions relating to food all the more complex compared to many of our other lifestyle choices.

• And finally this beauty: 'Our situation is an odd one. Virtually all of us agree that it matters how we treat animals and the environment, and yet few of us give much thought to our most important relationship to animals and the environment. Odder still, those who do chose to act in accordance with these uncontroversial values by refusing to eat animals...are often considered marginal or even radical.' (pp.73-74) 

Foer does not shy away from the gruesome realities that come with eating animals either. His focus is largely on factory farms in the USA, and while some may discount this if they live in another country, it was still very relevant for me. It made me to realise how little I actually know about farming practices in Australia. And how little I know about the journey animals go on from being live beings to cooked food on our plates. 

It’s a process people should be more informed about, not only from an animal welfare perspective, but also from a human welfare perspective. This latter point was particularly poignant for me because while I am quite familiar with practises concerning the former (and as such am a vegetarian), I never realised how much metaphorical crap is pumped into animals; animals who also live surrounded by literal crap. These crappy animals eventually become food for human consumption. That was particularly shocking for me. 

Thus, I found myself feeling quite angry halfway through the book. How have we become a society that’s allowed all of the corrupt practises of the food industry to continue, and flourish at that? Particularly at the expense of the welfare of others, both humans and animal? And especially when most of this is driven by money; whether it’s the meat producers who are wanting to maximise profits; or consumers who are not willing to pay more for their food, forcing some producers wanting to do the right thing to find cheaper (and generally less animal friendly and sustainable) ways of producing meat. 

All of this infuriated me so much that I just wanted pack up all of my belongings and move to a remote self-sustained community where I wouldn't have to be bothered by any of these injustices.

But I didn't. A) because I actually like my life as it is at the moment; b) because I don't think such a society is even possible; and c) that's not what Foer's intention with the book is anyway. 

Foer is simply offering a different way of thinking about food. And what's more, he invites us to act on this knowledge, rather than continue to be indifferent about it. After all, many of us are very familiar with the negative environmental, health and welfare impacts eating animals has. We simply do little with this knowledge. So Foer leaves us with the following proposition which sums up his discussion well: 

'What kind of world would we create if three times a day we activated our compassion and reason as we sat down to eat, if we had the moral imagination and pragmatic will to change our most fundamental act of consumption?' (pp. 257-258) 

Just imagine!

In three words

Enlightening, thought-provoking awesomeness 

What I liked

• Foer's writing - he is an incredibly talented wordsmith. 

• The way Foer presents his information. Whether it's via diagrams drawn to scale illustrating how little room factory farmed chooks have to live in; or presenting viewpoints from different sides of animal production and consumption arguments (including a vegetarian rancher); his argument is well-grounded and honest.

• The sense of empowerment after reading Eating Animals. Again, it's purpose is not to turn you into a tree-loving vegetarian hippy. But it offers options to those who do want to have a more positive impact on the world they live in.            

What irked me

The realisation that there is still so far to go in terms of improving animal welfare, the environment, and people's knowledge about where their food comes from. But change has to come from somewhere, so why not start now? 


You will like this if you enjoy reading

• Books that take you on philosophical and factual journeys of discovery
• Books that challenge and confront your understandings of the world around you
• Books which advocate for animal rights
• Books about food

*pun not intended