Pig Tales by Marie Darrieussecq

Pig Tales by Marie Darrieussecq
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This novella is a weird amalgam of Metamorphosis and The Breast spiced with Animal Farm with echoes of Animals by Pink Floyd

Big man, pig man
Haha, charade you are
Wooh!
You well-heeled big wheel
Haha, charade you are
And when your hand is on your heart
You're nearly a good laugh, almost a joker
With your head down in the pig bin
Saying, “Keep on digging”
Pig stain on your fat chin
What do you hope to find
Down in the pig mine?
You're nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh, but you're really a cry
Bus stop rat bag
Haha, charade you are
You fucked up old hag
Haha, charade you are
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass
You're nearly a good laugh
Almost worth a quick grin
You like the feel of steel
You're hot stuff with a hatpin
And good fun with a handgun
You're nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh, but you're really a cry

Essentially, this allegorical yarn reflects the bestial nature of men and, specifically in this case, women.

As her metamorphosis proceeds to her porcine state, her diet changes. She is repelled by pork products - almost cannibalism for her

The acorns were especially delicious, with something like the faint flavour of virgin soil. The cracked between the teeth, the fibres softened in the saliva - it was hearty, crunchy fare, quite satisfying. I had a strong taste of earth and water in my mouth, the taste of forest, of dead leaves. There were lots of roots, too, smelling nicely of liquorice, witch hazel, gentian, and they slipped down my throat like a sweet dessert, festooning me with long strands of sugary drool. Belching slightly, I stuck out my tongue and liked my chops

View all my reviews