Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Before reading this review or the novel itself, I caution you because it is classified as psychological horror and contains many disturbing themes, such as cannibalism, animal abuse, and sexual assault. I will also briefly mention these in my review, but nothing nearly as explicit as the novel itself.

Tender Is the Flesh is a psychological horror novel by Agustina Bazterrica featuring a dystopian future in which a virus carried by animals, livestock in particular, proves lethal to humans. In an attempt to curb the massive death count, the livestock industry halts all production and all animals capable of carrying the virus are slaughtered, including domestic animals as well as wild ones. Marginalized groups start to go missing as the demand for meat arises, and due to pressure from the livestock and animal product industries, the Government legalizes the breeding and processing of humans for food.

The story is fed to us through the perspective of a higher-up at a human processing plant several years after the “Transition” occurs, when the industry has already picked up steam the the government and media have successfully coerced the general public into viewing it all as normal and consuming the “special” meat. Marcos Tejo, the protagonist, goes about an eventful week at his job with a chilling aloofness as the reader is introduced to the horrors of this potential future, alongside commentary primarily featuring Marcos’ own misgivings as well as his struggle with his father’s dementia and wife’s grief after the loss of their child.

Even as I sat, enthralled, by the both direct and implicit horrors of the dystopia, I couldn’t help but to admire the terrible beauty that this book was. Unlike a lot of other disturbing media I’ve consumed, the characters were complex and compelling, storylines weaving together like sinews to bone to form one whole intricate machine of a story. It also didn’t rely on shock value for depth, laying out all its gory cards on the table where similar books hold them to their chest. The simplicity of the concept left the reader to strip from it the humanity until the bare commentary is shown, an addictive quality that had me finishing it in only a little over a day.

Without revealing too much of the plot, grotesque details combined with coerced normality paint a gruesome tale of grief, guilt, and the ease with which change comes if the right parties are enforcing it. Marcos is by no means a hero but he presents a sympathetic front as a part of the majority who were made uneasy by the Transition, but don’t openly oppose it. At times he is obviously unreliable and I wouldn’t say I was ever rooting for him, and yet I still felt a sting of betrayal by the end of the book.

In conclusion, Tender Is the Flesh is not a novel for the faint of heart or weak of stomach, but I would consider it a somewhat introductory read for those interested in psychological horror or disturbing media in general. One of its best qualities in my opinion is that the story holds its own outside of the horror, and I can imagine it would be a great read for its social commentary alone. For the avid horror fans, I will admit that I found it to tame considering what I’d heard about it, but it’s still fairly skin-crawling and certainly a novel concept that reaches beyond the usual scares.

Happy(?) reading! -Review by James B. ’24

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