The Glutton

by A.K. Blakemore

A subversive historical novel set during the French Revolution, inspired by a young peasant boy turned showman, said to have been tormented and driven to murder by an all-consuming appetite.

1798, France. Nuns move along the dark corridors of a Versailles hospital where the young Sister Perpetué has been tasked with sitting with the patient who must always be watched. The man, gaunt, with his sallow skin and distended belly, is dying: they say he ate a golden fork, and that it’s killing him from the inside. But that’s not all—he is rumored to have done monstrous things in his attempts to sate an insatiable appetite… an appetite they say tortures him still.

Born in an impoverished village to a widowed young mother, Tarare was once overflowing with quiet affection: for the Baby Jesus and the many Saints, for his mother, for the plants and little creatures in the woods and fields around their house. He spends his days alone, observing the delicate charms of the countryside. But his world is not a gentle one—and soon, life as he knew it is violently upended. Tarare is pitched down a chaotic path through revolutionary France, left to the mercy of strangers, and increasingly, bottomlessly, ravenous.

This exhilarating, disquieting novel paints a richly imagined life for The Great Tarare, The Glutton of Lyon in 18th-century France: a world of desire, hunger and poverty; hope, chaos and survival. As in her cult hit The Manningtree Witches, Blakemore showcases her stunning lyricism and deep compassion for characters pushed to the edge of society in The Glutton, her most unputdownable work yet.

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fiction, Horror, Historical, Literary Fiction, Gothic, Audiobook

320 pages, Hardcover

First published October 31, 2023

About the author

A.K. Blakemore is the author of two collections of poetry: Humbert Summer and Fondue. She has also translated the work of Sichuanese poet Yu Yoyo. Her poetry and prose writing have been widely published and anthologized, appearing in The London Review of Books, Poetry, The Poetry Review, and The White Review, among other publications. Her debut novel, The Manningtree Witches won the Desmond Elliot Prize 2021. She lives in London, England.

Reviews

[Barry Pierce · Rating 5 out of 5]

finger licking good.

[Helga Martiros · Rating 4 out of 5]

Notes:
* This book is a fictionalized version of the real Tarare who lived in the 18th century France and had the ability to devour anything.
*This book is excellent if one wants to go on a diet. You will most definitely lose your appetite.
*Napoleon makes a majestic albeit brief appearance in the book.

All is perfect, and delicious.

He is born in a village near Lyon around year 1772. His name is Tarare and he is always hungry. They say he eats anything and everything. They say once he ate a little child…

They call him The Great Tarare; they call him The Glutton of Lyon, The Hercules of the Gullet, The Bottomless Man; they call him The Beast.

The story begins with Tarare as a patient in a hospital in Versailles. He looks haggard, sallow, in pain and decaying. He claims the pain is caused by a golden fork that he swallowed whole and that it’s tearing him apart inside.
He is the patient “who must always be watched”. And watched he is, by a young nun who listens to him telling his life story; where it all began and how it all became.

[Annette · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Glutton imagines life of the Great Tarare, a historical figure known for bottomless appetite, in the 18th century France.

The story begins with Tarare being locked up and under watchful eye of a nun. He relates his story to her. It begins in the small village of Tarare, where life is tough. At sixteen, he gets pushed out of the house, and in order to survive, he joins misfits. His limitless appetite is notices and used for a show.

The character of Tarare is wonderfully developed. His story is dark and can move many hearts. What shines through this story is the lyrical prose. However, the poetic descriptions take time to reveal the story.

I believe this book is more for those who are into expressive writing, rather than the story itself.

Source: ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

[Summer · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love reading literary and historical fiction works this time of year. AK Blakemore’s The Glutton not only delivered on both of these genres but also delivered me a truly incredible and unforgettable tale.

The Glutton is the reimagined story based on the legendary tale of the historic figure Tarare, a man who was known for his insatiable hunger and bizarre eating habits. Set in 1798 the book begins in a Versailles Hospital. Sister Perpetúe has been tasked with sitting with a dying patient. The patient has been rumored to have consumed a golden fork in order to quench his insatiable appetite but the fork is killing him from the inside. The patient then begins telling Sister Perpetúe his life story and how he ended up here.

Born in a small village to an impoverished widowed mother, Tarare’s life was overflowed with happiness and his appreciation for the small things in life. But unfortunately, this peaceful existence doesn’t last forever and he is forced down the tumultuous path of the French Revolution. Tarare is soon left to the mercy of strangers and becomes increasingly ravenous.

Not only did this book pull me in with its compelling plot but the author's lyrical writing made me hang onto her every word. She took such a dark legend from history and polished it into a brilliant gem. It's very clear that the author researched the time and era of this book. I was so immersed in the story that I could easily imagine myself in France during the revolution.

I love it when an author can make me feel something that I typically wouldn't and The Glutton evoked a plethora of emotions in me. At times the story made me feel appalled, and at other times it made my heart spill over with sadness. I truly can't rave about this one enough and In a way, the story made me gluttonous for more! I cannot wait to read more of author A.K. Blakemore’s backlist and I highly recommend The Glutton!

The Glutton by A.K. Blakemore will be available on October 31. Thank you to Simon & Schuster for the free copy for review!

[Rad · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is somehow both the most beautiful and ugly piece of work I have ever read.

[quillnqueer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Free my boy he did nothing wrong (several found dead)

[Kate O'Shea · Rating 5 out of 5]

Most assuredly my sort of book so firstly, thanks to Netgalley for the ARC.

For reasons unknown (except perhaps the oddity of Tarare's disposition) it reminded me of Suskind's brilliant Perfume. The reason it reminded me of Candide is probably only because it is set in France (its at least 30 years since I read that particular novella). Either way this felt like a much older novel than it is. Just be assured that it is perfect this way.

I had not heard of Tarare (feel free to Google the correct pronunciation because you'll find at least four different ways). However he is a historical figure and this book is historical fiction. Tarare was supposedly a bottomless pit when it came to food but his peculiarity was that he could eat anything - cutlery, jewellery, dead and live animals (and worse).

The book is almost wholly seen through Tarare's eyes and although it is comically odd in parts it is clear by the end that this is a sad story.

I highly recommend this for fans of literary and historical fiction. The writing is beautiful and the subject bizarre. Well worth a read.

[Kasia · Rating 3 out of 5]

**ARC of this book provided by publisher in exchange for an honest review**

Sometimes a novel is less than sum of its good parts.

The Glutton is a dual timeline novel separated into three parts that tells the story of Tarrare - a man with great appetite and bizarre eating habits. First timeline starts in a French countryside and shows Tarrare's childhood and how young and innocent he was and the second timeline shows manipulative and sinister Tarrare on his deathbed. Starting this book I hoped we will get to observe how pure and somewhat slow-minded boy became this vile creature tormenting nuns in his final days but after finishing this book I still have problems with seeing how this two Tarrare's were one person.

Tarrare's insatiable hunger is one of the main themes of this book but it was described in not a very convincing way. Instead on hyperfocusing on food Tarrare has a mental capacity to be a philosopher of sorts, musing about life and love and beauty. The hunger explodes sometimes resulting in pretty detailed descriptions of gorging on disgusting things and pushing Tarrare beyond the lines of taboo. Everything is described in this poetic way that makes it pretty and repulsive at the same time and I would say this turpism is the greatest strength of this book.

It's an OK book. Don't read Wikipedia article about Tarrare before reading this novel because it can spoil your reading experience.

[Rachel Martin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ughhhh. I wanted to like this much more than I did. It had elements that called to me; it was absolutely bizarre, disgusting, gruesome, but with a fantastical and whimsical touch...sometimes even quite humorous.

However, I just could not get in to it! I don't know if it's because of a personal issue I'm dealing with at the moment or what, but I didn't feel hooked. Although I love learning new vocabulary in books, I felt as if I was looking up words constantly (which I recognize to totally be a personal thing).

The Manningtree Witches by the same aithor was one of the few books I've ever DNF'd. I was able to get through this one based on the absolutely insane premise and fabulous writing--I will definitely remember this but it was not my favorite.

[Dammitkassi · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not for the easily troubled.
This is by far the oddest book I have read in as long as I can remember.
It had bits of very dark, very funny humour and very touching emotive parts too.
If you want that
"Jesus what did I just read" feeling.
This is 100% for you.

[Willow Heath]

A.K. Blakemore’s second historical novel continues her immaculate trend of injecting poetry into prose, and writing tales of tragedy and hardship with so much beauty and elegance.

The Glutton is based on the real-life story of Tarare, a young Frenchman born near Lyon in the year 1772. When the novel begins, Tarare is in his late twenties and on his deathbed, telling his tale to a nun who believes him an offence; an abomination, but who is curious enough to listen and learn about The Bottomless Man.

My full thoughts: https://booksandbao.com/best-historic...

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 4 out of 5]

Shortlisted for the RSL Encore Award for Second Novels
Shortlisted for the 2024 Dylan Thomas Prize

Hard brasslike morning light. As they tramp from village to village along the Mâcon way, Tarare is never not hungry. His stomach gorged and his legs weak and shaking between his leaden entrails and the dirt road. Tarare is a peasant; he has known hunger. He has known hunger all his life, long and well. Hunger lived at every slumping house in the village he was born in. Hunger slunk to the wineshop, and leant against the garden wall to gossip, hunger played at skull-and-bones in the narrow dirt road. Hunger, mother-of-nothing. He knew hunger before he knew there was a word for it, that peculiar tightening, that hollow. But this hunger is new. He feels it running through his bones like marrow. What he might eat - and where he will find it - is the first thought he has upon waking, and the last he has as he curls on the roadside … to sleep …. When they come by a stream, Tarare fills his cupped hands with water, again and again, gulps down so much he feels he should burst - but it does nothing to ease the empty ache of his belly … He chews dandelions, bitterroot and bark from the trees. In his worst moments, he wonders if a man can eat the meat off his own body. He is sure it must have happened somehow, somewhere. A man must have been desperate enough to try taking a bite of the fat and marbled flesh of his very own arm. The boy, Tarare, is literally insatiable. Day by day his wounds heal and his strength returns. Something desperate, something feral, shines from deep in the sweet blue water of his eyes.

I specifically read this book due to its longlisting for the Dylan Thomas Prize, a prize for authors writing in English aged 39 and under (Thomas himself having died at that age) which is open to novels, short story collections, poetry collections and plays.

It was the only novel on the longlist I had not already read, although it was a book I would eventually have read as I really enjoyed the author’s Desmond Elliott Prize winning debut novel “Manningtree Witches”, a fictionalised account of the victims of the “Witchfinder General” Matthew Hopkins, set in Civil War Essex.

And this novel has much in common – historical fiction set at a time of national disruption and Civil War – in this case in revolutionary France and the story of “The Glutton of Lyon” Tarare – a showman known for his prodigious, insatiably voracious and non-discriminatory appetite (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tarrare).

The framing device for the book is as Tarare lays dying and chained in a Versailles hospital in September 1798 (Vendémiaire in the revolutionary calendar) and tells his story to a horrified but intrigued-against-her-wishes nun Sister Pepeture.
The story starts with his Tarare’s upbringing in a remote village near Lyon, named after the lazy babblings of his father who dies in a feast day brawl on the day of Tarare’s birth. Tarare’s unmarried mother is urged to give the baby up, but decides to keep him – Tarare growing up a rather simple but big hearted child while his mother tries first prostitution, then wet-nursing to get money (the latter ending in a formative experience for Tarare when one of the babies dies and Tarare’s actual sister is quietly substituted for her, the dead baby being left in a wood by Tarare) – before falling in with a charismatic salt smuggler Nollet.

When Tarare’s naiveite leads to the salt being stolen, Nollet beats him and leaves him for dead, but Tarare survives and is adopted by a band of prostitutes and thieves. When at a wedding they attend, Tarare’s prestigious appetite first surfaces, the leader of the gang quickly sees profit in turning Tarare into a travelling act – one which quickly becomes famous after he eats a rat, followed later by corks or people’s hats. Much later Tarare joins the revolutionary army (mainly for food, which proves inadequate and ends up with him on a charge of pilfering) and then is (ill-)used as a smuggler, captured by the Prussians and returned to a field hospital where his appetite takes a darker turn in an incident which brings him back to the trauma of his childhood.

As seen in her debut and now in this follow up (which must have a good chance of other prize listings), as an author she excels in visceral, immersive and multi-sensory writing and deliberately florid language (interviewed about her poetry in 2019 the author said “I feel like part of that comes from my obsession with words. The euphony of certain words, how they feel when you say them, or look at them. The resonances they have. Words are a basic unit of expression and this is something I enjoy playing with. Words like ‘dark’ may not be the best specific word, which leads me to use a really weird word as the juiciest word for that particular line. Thesaurus.com is my homepage!”

Normally I am averse to scatological writing but here in a novel grounded in a historical character famous for uninhibited and transgressive ingestion, and prodigious excretion it felt appropriate and never gratuitous.

Just as with “Manningtree Witches” I enjoyed the way in which the characters are used to examine the state of the nation – particularly as experienced by the dispossessed and poor. Here quite literally we have an examination of the body politic.

If I had a doubt about the novel it would be the evolution of the character of Tarare himself. Despite being examined in detail, Tarare during the novel transforms from first innocent near simpleton, to someone who is little more than his insatiable hunger to, much later in the book, something of a terrifying fiend suspected of cannibalism. And while we see some of the key incidents that took place at the very moments of flux (near fatal beating by his mother’s lover, torture and mock execution by the Prussians) it is less clear why the act precipitated the character transformation.

But that itself both could of course stand in for why France went through such revolutionary changes over the same period, and further in seeking to open up Tarare and find what caused him to be who he is (in other words to dissect his character) we are mirroring the desire of his medical contemporaries to understand what drove his hunger by dissecting his body.

Perhaps he is empty metaphor. Perhaps.
Before the end, Tarare will be opened up. The mystery of him held up naked to the light. And at that time we will cleave to our wonder, and agree to look away

Far from looking away I found this an entertaining and memorable novel.

he feels blessed. On the other, cursed. But he is too small to contend with what God, presumably, has made him. And he is too weak to move from where God, presumably, has placed him. And should he take solace in that? The workings of God, the ineluctability of fate, cradling him like a silvered net? Tarare is thinking these things, or trying to, when he remembers that he is hungry. So hungry. And then his great hunger becomes all that he can hold in his mind and he can no longer think of anything else. It has been this way since the hunger began. Since Nollet left him for dead in the green belly of the forest. If he wants to have thoughts at all, he must first expend his energy in hefting the enormous hunger aside. Hunger is the air Tarare breathes, and the espadrilles on his feet, and the hair that sprouts on his arms. Sometimes he worries that hunger is all he is. He thought it would go away. That with time it would diminish. But it hasn't. It is in this moment, with the delicate cruciform shadow of the church's weathervane grazing at the toe of his shoe, that Tarare realises he faces down an existence of unrelenting, insatiable want. Of eternal suffering. That a void opened up underneath him when it opened up within him.

[TarHeelReader · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Glutton is a fictional story of Tarare the Great living around the time of the French Revolution. I’ve definitely heard of him, and woo, what a story (make sure to check out triggers if needed). A.K. Blakemore’s writing fully immerses in this vividly drawn story. It’s often uncomfortable, which is how I imagine life was often like for Tarare as well.

My favorite parts of the story were about his early life living in the village with his mom (so much atmosphere), as well as his early times spent with a motley group of “performers” on the road. Reading The Glutton was a memorable experience.

I received a gifted copy.

Many of my reviews can also be found on my blog: www.jennifertarheelreader.com and instagram: www.instagram.com/tarheelreader

[Lara Koppel · Rating 2 out of 5]

i am so fucking done trusting bitches on tiktok

[Lexi Trumble · Rating 1 out of 5]

I consider myself an intense lover of dark fiction, and this book REALLY didn’t work for me. It’s a historical fiction interpretation of an alleged real-life man with an insatiable appetite. Set against the 1700s political unrest of the French Revolution, this just wasn’t at all to my taste (pun intended) and I found it a chore to get through.

This story felt three times the length of its 300 pages, and it took me WEEKS to finish it. The plot of this story is practically nonexistent. It is, instead, a devastatingly slow character study told with a distinct lack of punctuation—there’s not a single dialogue-indicative quotation mark in the whole book. The narrative structure, the pacing, the delivery…all of it was a miss for me.

I went into this with high hopes. The hauntingly beautiful, disturbing cover art was compelling. The back cover promised a “subversive and gleefully scary” story “fit to slap any reader awake.” Instead, I got a painfully overwritten, achingly boring historical info-dump with a few redeeming moments of gut-churning imagery. Some early readers certainly enjoyed this one, and I’m glad there is an audience for this story, but it was an absolute miss for me.

[Kobe · Rating 4 out of 5]

4 stars. utterly bizarre but wonderfully dark and grotesque.

[Sam Lindley · Rating 1 out of 5]

no

[Elaine · Rating 2 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley for an ARC of The Glutton.

I've never heard of Tarare before and the premise was so intriguing I had to request this.

** Minor non-foodie spoilers ahead **

A troubled young man named Tarare is on his deathbed and confesses to a young nun how he came to end up in her care.

And we learn the story of how Tarare came to exist.

And it's not a pretty story.

It's graphic, disgusting, filthy, and disturbing so squeamish readers should be mentally prepared.

I know this is the author's fictional account of Tarare, but it's very sad.

The author can write and the research she did shines through.

I also enjoyed the historical and political backdrop of France in the 18th century during which Tarare lived.

But I didn't enjoy the format of the narrative; no quotation marks for dialogue, and long paragraphs with no breaks.

The entire story read like a summary or recap, long exposition and descriptions.

The writing is good, but its a slog to get through; the pacing tedious and humdrum, like real life.

Still, this is a unique and compelling fictional story based on the real Tarare; his life story having been lost to history, who had the bad luck to be born during a time when his medical condition was not understood.

[Hannah · Rating 2 out of 5]

A very good book in many ways - meticulously researched and beautifully written - but I really struggled to understand the point of it. The author does breathe life into France in the relevant period, and the huge disparities between rich and poor, which still have lots of resonance today. But Tarare's story never seems to go anywhere. I don't understand what his motivations were, why he did what he did, and if the point is to show that he has no agency in his own life, drifting from place to place at the mercy of other people, it unfortunately doesn't make for a very exciting plot. A.K.Blakemore is still a fabulous writer, but this one isn't for me.

Many thanks to NetGalley, the publisher and the author for an ARC in return for an honest review.

[John McDermott · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliant and original.
The Glutton, with its lavish prose , is a bawdy and grotesque feast of a book as it depicts the life of Tarare, a man cursed with an insatiable appetite.
I dare say that it will inevitably draw comparison with Patrick Suskind’s ‘ Perfume’ but that’s no bad thing in my opinion.
Despite some of the truly horrific things that Tarare carries out during out during his sad life, I was still left feeling compassion towards him as he is constantly abused and exploited by virtually everyone he meets. Any encounter with the Marquis de Sade is never going to end well !
If you’re looking for something different to start off your reading in 2025 then you won’t go far wrong with this bold and audacious tale.
A must read.

[Lady Fancifull · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ghoulish tale of a man with a strange affliction from author who eats Thesaurus 3.5 raised

As others have noted, there are certainly similarities to Patrick Susskind’s Perfume. Blakemore’s book, however, is based on a man who really existed. Set in France, at the time of the French Revolution, this is the story of a somewhat simple boy from an pretty impoverished home. Tarare suffers from a very peculiar disorder, which was undiagnosed, is particularly rare, and there are documented accounts of others with the same affliction. An abnormal, insatiable appetite, such that the sufferer is permanently in pain through excessive hunger, and though he could eat the amount that 10 or more people might eat at a single sitting, remains slight in build

I had assumed, reading this, that the extraordinary story was imaginary. It is bizarre, horrific, gruesome, and yet fantastical, both awful and sometimes weirdly funny.

What held me back from full surrender, though, is a certain overwriting trick or tic. Blakemore loves words, clearly, but at times I imagine she must thumb through a substantial, weighty Thesaurus every paragraph or so trying to find the most unusual word possible for any number of perfectly suitable words.

I have a pretty good vocabulary, but this would have been a book impossible to read as a physical book unless a particularly huge and weighty dictionary were close by. Preferably one existing in several volumes. Reading it on an ereader, even with its own excellent included dictionaries, there were many words not included, and it would have needed reading with the internet turned on, in order to access them.

[Ben Dutton · Rating 5 out of 5]

A. K. Blakemore arrived on the literary scene with the rather wonderful The Manningtree Witches, which took for its story that of Matthew Hopkins, a true historical figure, around whom a wonderful novel was woven. This new novel, The Glutton, shares much D.N.A. with that debut - here it is the true story of Tarare, a French man with a rather unusual ability - he can eat literally anything, and at the risk of turning your stomach, he does. A meal for 15, live animals, offal, eels eaten whole, alive. It is a sickening spectacle in many ways, and the mere beginning of an incredible tale.

Blakemore's prose sings throughout thus - it is baroque, it is full of life, it fills Tarare and his adventures in revolutionary France so stunningly that I had to pause to re-read a perfect sentence, on every page, and yet was so urgently pulled on by the narrative that I didn't want to stop. I was gluttonous too - finishing this masterpiece in one sitting - with the final third of the novel bringing out all my emotions.

This is a novel that will rest in my mind for many days - and I know I will read it again. Superb stuff.

Thank you to the publishers and Netgalley for the ARC.

[Leo · Rating 3 out of 5]

It was a good book but I have to admit I dnfed when I had 2 hours or so left of the audiobook. I just had enough of the way it was written and the story. It wasn't bad by any means but didn't quite work for me

[Erin · Rating 5 out of 5]

How good it is to be back in the realm of A. K. Blakemore! It seems to've been such a long time since The Manningtree Witches, which was a standout book of 2021 for me.
 
Based upon the true story of a French peasant of around 1772 (Tarare, the glutton), the facts of whose life were conveyed to the world in an 1804 memoir in a medical journal following the patient's death, the peripatetic adventurings of Blakemore’s protagonist reminded me of those of Drosselmeier in Gregory Maguire’s Hiddensee: A Tale of the Once and Future Nutcracker. The narrative vehicle of prison-cell confession employed in Part One and Part Two of ‘The Glutton’ calls back to The Corset by Laura Purcell, whereas the breadth and depth made apparent in the text of Blakemore's historical research into eighteenth-century France has something of the flavour of Nell Stevens’ 2022 masterpiece Briefly, A Delicious Life. And while other reviewers will doubtless report in greater detail upon the plot and structure of A. K. Blakemore’s new novel, I would like here to extol just a few aspects of her inimitable style and technique, which make ‘The Glutton’ like no other novel.
 
Blakemore’s figurative language in ‘The Glutton’ is characterised by inelaborate, yet elegant adjectives: 'diminished grace'; 'fretted silver'; 'pearly wounds'; 'sotted, vaunting farm boys'. And when she calls upon metaphors and similes, they are direct and indisputable: 'old, beaked women'; 'his vertebrae press against the freckled skin of his back like the seam of a bean'; 'the dry peppercorn eyes of a dead rat'. By means of these, coupled with a deceptively effortless language structure composed of short phrases, rhetorical questions and direct address by the author, pauses, repetition, and accumulating lists of three, Blakemore affects a kind of mesmerism upon her reader.
 
Once mesmerised thus, I found myself ultimately unmade by Blakemore's imagery:

'The rising sun is at his back, shellacking the low cloud in carcinomic pinks and tentative oranges. All around him the trees droop, fetid with the late rain, and the hedgerows fill with lively music: crickets, calling birds.'

Using imagery, Blakemore artfully marries literary substance and literary effect. Whether imagery is there to allure, to impress, to make readers keep reading, or - like here - more skilfully, to bring readers reflexively back to a pictorial expression of the tokens of eating, for example: the mouth, the belly, the substance of food (bean, broth, skin, fat), this is Literary Fiction at its best:

'Saint Jean Baptiste was born of Elizabeth, cousin of the Holy Virgin, Tarare remembers this. The Virgin went to visit with Elizabeth when they were both with child and, greeting one another with a kiss, they felt their swollen bellies quiver with the miracles that the Lord had planted in each of them. Saint Jean knew the Lord was close, even then, the Saviour of mankind curled blind as a bean in amniotic broth, beneath the skin and fat of a virgin girl.'

In the audiobook edition, Phillipe Spall transmutes into music Blakemore’s intentness with regard to the rhythm of her language; the measure of downbeats and upbeats: ‘sets out in a shambling jog’ bears a regular pattern of emphases and theses. ‘There is no maybe about dead’ demonstrates the same rhythmic beats. Spall salutes the pacing of the text and gives voice to these metrical notes in a sensitive manner. Consider the stressed and unstressed syllables in the line: ‘where wolves could talk and sometimes wore hats’. Exquisite! ‘They don’t know how to handle bayonets’ is a flawless line of iambic pentameter. If, as Blakemore states in the Afterword to the novel, her intent is 'not to present a truth, but offer the most compelling, and therefore believable iteration of a myth', then her application of linguistic meter is apt; it accords with her mythopoeiaic intention. Rhythmic language is nursery-rhyme language, folk tale language, it is the medium by which we learn our fables, traditions, our allegories. So becomes The Great Tarare, the Glutton of Lyon. To this end, Spall’s narration engages his breath, modulates his volume (to almost a whisper whilst Sister Perpetué hears Tarare’s ‘confession’, for example), and pays meticulous attention to punctuation to unlock the poetic meter in Blakemore’s phrasing.
 
I was transported by ‘The Glutton’. The following quote, I think, demonstrates the lure of Blakemore’s language, which held me so in thrall to the novel:

‘The sky is whitening. The birds begin their fractal chorus, delicate in its thousand component parts: a grass-coloured woodpecker, a lovely blackbird. It would do no good to describe Tarare’s pain, which is enormous and in every part of his body, because in pain we are all alone, latched into the flesh, where the blood whistles and cells knit and unknit themselves. To tell you that the pain fills him like a heavy fire all over his young body would be feeble and perhaps ultimately deceitful. To tell you he tries to open his eyes and finds they will not open would be to pick your pockets of a truth you are likely already in possession of and perhaps, wish to forget: that in our suffering, we are all of us totally, irrevocably alone. To describe the vignettes that play out behind his swollen eyes: the screeching of hideous marionettes illuminated by a flat red glare, his mother weeping by the hearth, the robbers counting up their money with frilled whores in their laps, a mere sideshow.’

A. K. Blakemore’s reiterative style, where she brings her reader back again and again to being within the flesh and blood of a body (through which and for which Tarare gluts himself), is drawn to a close in the novel’s final words, pulled from a description of the afterlife given by a spirit manifestation to the Cercle Harmonique: 'All is perfect and delicious'. I’d extend the same nomination to ‘The Glutton’: perfect; delicious. My sincere thanks to Granta Publications for an eARC of the novel, and to Bolinda Audio for a digital audio copy, via NetGalley. (Citations are subject to change. Any errors in transcribing quotes rest with me.)

[Ross Dorianycc · Rating 5 out of 5]

Tra i preferiti dell'anno ⭐️
Ho amato i riferimenti storici al personaggio stesso ma anche al resto delle vicende. Tarare meritavi di meglio nella tua breve e mostruosa vita.

""Mi raccontate queste storie affinché io abbia pietà di voi, per spingermi a credere che avete subito maltrattamenti, ma io non vi credo. Voi non siete una vittima. Siste un uomo ignobile e sgradevole."
Lui rivolge i suoi addolorati occhi azzurri verso di lei "Non potrei", chiede il Grande Tarare "essere tutt'e due le cose?""

[Vittoria · Rating 3 out of 5]

There are a whole slew of monsters in this book. All of them human.

[Jess · Rating 2 out of 5]

I had 3 main issues with this:
1. The amount of long descriptions was so unnecessary. The narrative meanders so much and I just wanted to skim it and get to the point. I like a bit of meandering and some nice prose but this was too much.
2. I neither liked or disliked the character/ person Tarare so didn’t feel very invested in the story. I felt disdain and mild disgust but nothing that happened to him really evoked any emotion in me because I had no feelings about him. Which brings me on to my final point…
3. Very little actually happens in this book. It’s just descriptions and daydreams.

Disappointing overall. If you love flowery literary prose and kinda disgusting stories then you’d probably enjoy it more than me. But if you’re interested in the premise/ the real person its based on, just read the Wikipedia page

[Mohammed Al-Thani · Rating 4 out of 5]

Disgustingly brilliant.

[Gregory Duke]

Not a bad book by any means, but I just stopped connecting with it after a third of it. Read two thirds of it in total, and I appreciate my experience with the text, and maybe I'll go back to it in the future, yet I think that I've had enough. Sort of uses a generic, "flowery" register to enhance sensory detail. It's all about purposelessness, the irrational, what it means to be a freak (particularly in contrast to the bourgeois), the messiness of revolution, and personal and public mythmaking. Cool to see a book about this man, since I remember going down a Wikipedia rabbit hole about him and his oddity five or six years ago. The book is better than the Wikipedia article.

[ola_hiperbola · Rating 5 out of 5]

4,5
smakowicie obrzydliwa lektura! 🖤