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We Eat Our Own
An ambitious debut told in dazzlingly precise prose, We Eat Our Own follows an international film crew to the Amazon in the 1970s and explores the forces that underlie human violence and the faint borderline between art and life.
For his latest film, Italian pulp horror director Ugo Velluto has a radical vision—one that requires abandoning green screens to film on-site in a remote outpost in the Colombian rain forest, and keeping his actors in the dark about what the script contains.
No one is more befuddled than his lead actor, an untried American fished from a New York acting school as a last minute fill-in. Thrust into scenes beside tribal natives, Spanish-speaking locals and an Italian crew he doesn’t understand, this actor—whom Ugo insists on calling only by his character’s name, Richard—quickly realizes he’s out of his depth.
But neither Richard nor the rest of the film crew is aware of the threats lurking in the nearby town and the sprawling shadow economy that powers it—an economy spurred by an unscrupulous American expat, fueled by drugs and guerilla insurgents working in tense collaboration and unpoliced by any outside government. Even Ugo doesn’t seem to know how his crew’s arrival has thrown the town’s equilibrium dangerously out of balance.
As Ugo’s shocking demands stir tension among his cast and crew, and the secrets of the town threaten to boil over, all must decide which roles they will—and won’t—play in this daring artistic experiment gone wrong. Written with verve, intensity and a penetrating eye for the intricate politics of a regime teetering on the edge, We Eat Our Own is a resounding literary debut, a thrilling journey and a thoughtful commentary on violence and its repercussions.
For his latest film, Italian pulp horror director Ugo Velluto has a radical vision—one that requires abandoning green screens to film on-site in a remote outpost in the Colombian rain forest, and keeping his actors in the dark about what the script contains.
No one is more befuddled than his lead actor, an untried American fished from a New York acting school as a last minute fill-in. Thrust into scenes beside tribal natives, Spanish-speaking locals and an Italian crew he doesn’t understand, this actor—whom Ugo insists on calling only by his character’s name, Richard—quickly realizes he’s out of his depth.
But neither Richard nor the rest of the film crew is aware of the threats lurking in the nearby town and the sprawling shadow economy that powers it—an economy spurred by an unscrupulous American expat, fueled by drugs and guerilla insurgents working in tense collaboration and unpoliced by any outside government. Even Ugo doesn’t seem to know how his crew’s arrival has thrown the town’s equilibrium dangerously out of balance.
As Ugo’s shocking demands stir tension among his cast and crew, and the secrets of the town threaten to boil over, all must decide which roles they will—and won’t—play in this daring artistic experiment gone wrong. Written with verve, intensity and a penetrating eye for the intricate politics of a regime teetering on the edge, We Eat Our Own is a resounding literary debut, a thrilling journey and a thoughtful commentary on violence and its repercussions.
310 pages, Hardcover
First published September 6, 2016
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3874 people want to read
About the author
Kea Wilson
1 book81 followersKea Wilson received her MFA from Washington University in St. Louis, where she lives and works as a bookseller. We Eat Our Own is her first novel.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 259 reviews
September 15, 2024
"I want young. I want unknown. Check the acting schools. Avoid anyone unionized. And don't show him the script. We need someone who is desperate. And make sure he wears a size ten and a half. We're over budget as is, and I'll be damned if I pay for another pair of boots."
Italian film director Ugo Velluto barks out the above impassioned words to his casting director - and Ugo is deadly serious about getting the American actor he needs for his pulp horror film, Jungle Bloodbath, a film he's making on location in the Amazon jungle in Colombia, South America.
Kea Wilson's debut novel is definitely not horror fiction; rather, it's a tale of suspense filled with an intensity raised to the power of ten. To underscore just how intense, let me share a We Eat Our Own highlight reel:
SNAPPY STRUCTURE
The novel contains 14 chapters, shifting back and forth from Richard, the young, green, desperate American actor who leaves his girlfriend in NYC and flies to Colombia to take the lead role (Wow! I actually get a chance to be the lead actor!) to seven other women and men in the unfolding drama.
An especially unique feature of the novel: the chapters of those other people (with the exception of director Ugo, we're talking six energetic, adventurous women and men in their twenties) are written in third person but, for Richard's chapters, we're treated to a breezy, hip second person (reminding me of Jay McInerney's Bright Lights, Big City). And Kea adds so much by noting what Richard, naive guy that his is, doesn't know. "Here is something you do not know: The name of the girl who puts her tongue in the hollow of your ear as you dance."
COURTROOM DRAMA
Another provocative feature: sprinkled throughout are lively excerpts of dialogue between Prosecuting Attorney Capo and Ugo Velluto on the witness stand. As it turned out, Jungle Bloodbath became a box office smash but the law wants to nail Ugo for making such an offensive, hyperviolent film. Ugo, forever the director running the show, laughs and fires back his own questions. You tell them, Ugo! Lawyers trying to get the upper hand on a true artist. Ha!
SEX, DRUGS AND REVOLUTION
As in acting, so in life: timing is everything. Just so happens Ugo has entered a part of the Colombian rain forest that's currently a hotbed for Marxist revolutionaries and a dangerous drug cartel. Here's a snip when beautiful, college-age Marina, dedicated Communist and revolutionary, moves through the jungle:
"The semiautomatic is slung over her back like an afterthought. She has her fists if she runs out of ammunition. She has her teeth. They are all distracted, and whether she wants to admit it to herself or not, Marina has done terrible things before - done them so recently that when she closes her eyes at night she still feels the muscle on the inside of her trigger finger flare with blood and pulse until she has to make a fist."
FEMALE ENERGY
Kea Wilson's portrayals of her female characters (what extraordinary talent!) snap with verve. Every single scene with saucy, sexy Swiss actress Irena or Italian set designer Agata flash and shimmer. Get a gander at Irena on camera:
"This is what Irena is best at, and it's what she did all day, alone with Ugo and the cameraman in the jungle. Ugo told her to writhe in the mud, afraid, and she did it. He told her to take off her clothes and step into the river and she turned a dial in her brain and she was a different girl."
KILL THE DOG
A key philosophic question running throughout the novel: How far are you willing to go for the sake of art? At one point Ugo tells Richard he has to shoot a dog. And please note the black humor, or perhaps I should say black tragedy.
"You mumbled, But I don't think-
You can.
No, no, it's just - I don't know how to use the gun.
You have to.
It's a movie. Can't you just get the effects crew to -
Just pull the trigger. Ugo pantomimed it. Do it quick. Not too gentle. And don't mess up. We only have one dog."
YOU ARE RICHARD
That American actor (we don't find out his real name until the final chapters) merges with his character, Richard Trent. You are Richard Trent. I am Richard Trent. After all, according to the American, the art of acting requires one to surrender to character, surrender to the point where the character eats away at one's own identity. Thus one prime reason for the novel's title: We Eat Our Own.
NOVELIST OF REAL SUBSTANCE AND PROMISE
In his New York Times review, Jonathan Dee wrote, "While the publishers of We Eat Our Own appear to want to position it as (according to its jacket copy), "a thoughtful commentary on violence and its repercussions," it is, thank God, no such thing: Wilson is concerned only with detail, with specificity and precision in the moment, and it's that concern that marks her as a novelist of real substance and promise."
In the main, I agree with Johnathan Dee. However, I think the novel also prompts us to reflect on how we treat violence – individually, as a society, as an expression of art. For example, here's Anahi, a young Colombian, confronting her boyfriend Teo about his participation in the film, in a scene where Teo repeatedly strikes an Indian's head and neck with the butt of a gun (Kea Wilson does not use quotation marks at all in her novel):
"What do you mean, then?
I mean the violence, she says, bracing. I mean the blood and the killing and the guns. Hurting the Indians....What I meant was...Doesn't it bother you? To even pretend to do things like that?"
Kea Wilson has written a stunner, a remarkable achievement for a debut novel. Grab a copy and get ready to turn those pages.
American author Kea Wilson
September 3, 2016
#%^¥ stars?!?! Yikes! I truly don't know how to rate this book or what to say about it. The story is weird and the story telling is even weirder. I didn't dislike it. I didn't want to stop reading it -- in fact I felt kind of riveted -- like looking at an accident about to happen -- or is it happening -- you don't want to see it but you can't turn away. I didn't know what was going on much of the time -- but I think that was the point. I really didn't like any of the characters -- but I can't imagine I was supposed to like them. I had to look up the author's photo to double check that she was in fact a young women -- because it's hard to imagine that someone that young would write such an odd twisted tale. Did I whet your appetite or turn you off? A bit of both, I'm guessing which is pretty much how I feel after reading this one. I need a shower -- but once I'm done I might have to start from the beginning again to see if I understand what happened any better a second time round. By the way, I'm not going to bother trying to describe the plot -- you can read the GR blurb for what it's worth if you're really curious. Thank you -- I think -- to Netgalley and the publisher for giving me a chance to read an advance copy.
December 16, 2016
I was thoroughly impressed with this novel. It was hard for me to believe that it was the author's first. I relished the way it was written, in second person and lacking quotation marks. The language was straightforward and unadorned. Which is ironic, because the main theme throughout this book is acting. There are different scenarios that we follow. First, we encounter an erratic and unconventional director shooting a horror film in the Colombian jungle. We are introduced to the various cast and crew members, seeing the events from each of their perspectives. Virtually alongside this story there is another that follows a small group of young Colombians who have joined the M-19 guerilla movement. Identity is questioned and examined throughout the book. There is a difference between an alias and a pseudonym. An alias is who you become, while a pseudonym is a name that you will give up under pressure. The young rebels go through traumatic experiences to learn who they really are. The actors go through a similar process. As they find out, "there are many monsters secreted deep inside, and acting is simply about giving them the aperture to slip through and show themselves." You can lose yourself in who you become, because "you know that acting is a kind of cannibalism, and you indulge in it: you will be eaten, and you will eat your own." This is a many layered, disquieting and completely engaging work of literature. Highest recommendations.
Many thanks to my friend Edward Lorn for reading this book with me.
Many thanks to my friend Edward Lorn for reading this book with me.
August 29, 2016
WE EAT OUR OWN, by Kea Wilson, is a novel that captured my full attention from the very first page. Written in second person POV--in my opinion, a very difficult technique to pull off successfully in this genre--I found it very unique, and the writing style very impressive overall. This story was inspired by an Italian cult film, Cannibal Holocaust, which I "had" to look up immediately after reading this.
We have our--possibly psychotic--director, Ugo Vellato, who decides to film a horror movie in the jungles of Columbia during a very tumultuous time in its political history. After one American actor quits, an "unknown" replacement--who never gets to set eyes on the script--is shipped off with vague promises of fame and fortune. All we know him by is his character's name, Richard. In a daring display of novelty, Wilson keeps us in the dark about what is happening in the movie, along with our American protagonist.
The novel is layered with various groups, characters, the dangers of the jungle, itself, and basic "human nature" that leads us down paths we might never have consciously chosen. While seemingly unconnected, it was astonishing to me to see how well all of these independent factions, in fact, fed off of each other the entire way.
Many of Richard's sections would begin with the simple sentence: "Here is something you don't know:" . This style served to drive home more definitely the fact that the characters are as clueless as to what's happening, as we are while reading about their exploits.
Overall, a very daring and original new take on the horror novel. ". . . We are not meant to stay in moments like these, all that hate hung in the air. It is why we watch horror movies . . ."
Highly recommended.
*I received an e-copy of this novel from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.*
We have our--possibly psychotic--director, Ugo Vellato, who decides to film a horror movie in the jungles of Columbia during a very tumultuous time in its political history. After one American actor quits, an "unknown" replacement--who never gets to set eyes on the script--is shipped off with vague promises of fame and fortune. All we know him by is his character's name, Richard. In a daring display of novelty, Wilson keeps us in the dark about what is happening in the movie, along with our American protagonist.
The novel is layered with various groups, characters, the dangers of the jungle, itself, and basic "human nature" that leads us down paths we might never have consciously chosen. While seemingly unconnected, it was astonishing to me to see how well all of these independent factions, in fact, fed off of each other the entire way.
Many of Richard's sections would begin with the simple sentence: "Here is something you don't know:" . This style served to drive home more definitely the fact that the characters are as clueless as to what's happening, as we are while reading about their exploits.
Overall, a very daring and original new take on the horror novel. ". . . We are not meant to stay in moments like these, all that hate hung in the air. It is why we watch horror movies . . ."
Highly recommended.
*I received an e-copy of this novel from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.*
October 13, 2016
3 of 5 stars at The BiblioSanctum https://bibliosanctum.com/2016/10/13/...
So, I’ve never seen Cannibal Holocaust. Its huge cult following and legacy as a definitive film in the exploitation horror genre notwithstanding, I already know that kind of movie is not my bag, and my queasiness from viewing its Wikipedia page alone is confirmation enough of that. And yet, when I saw the description of this book I was immediately intrigued, especially by the part about the story being inspired by the true events surrounding the making of the film. If you aren’t familiar with the controversy there, when Cannibal Holocaust came out in the early 80s it achieved massive notoriety for its gruesome and violent content, but also when it came to light that there were unsavory practices on set that proved quite disturbing.
We Eat Our Own is essentially the novelized incarnation of that story. It tells of an unnamed struggling actor, only referred to as his on-screen name “Richard”, getting a call from his agent out of the blue about a once in a lifetime opportunity—an Italian art film director is in need of a new lead because his original actor quit right on the tarmac after seeing the script. This could be the big break “Richard” needs, but the catch is, he’ll need to pack up and leave right this instant. The rest of the crew are already shooting in the Amazon rainforest, and production is already behind schedule and over-budget. The plane to Bogotá leaves from the airport in six hours; just be on it.
Not long after “Richard” arrives on set though, he wonders if he’s made a mistake. The director is a nutcase, who seems to be making things up as he goes along. Many of his methods are unorthodox and unethical, especially when it comes to the treatment of animals on set as well as his attitudes towards the native extras. There is no script, not enough set materials, and hardly any safety. They’re in the middle of nowhere far from civilization, in an area made unstable by the activity of the drug cartels and M-19 guerilla fighters. The jungle itself is oppressive, the air hot and wet, the river brown and soupy and full of parasites. Despite the hours of acting classes and theater school, nothing could have prepared our main character for any of this.
For me, this book was a total surprise, but I’m still trying to decide whether it was a positive or negative one. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure what I expected beyond having glimpsed a description of the style as being “literary horror”, but it’s probably safe to say the book turned out even more artsy than I’d anticipated. The prose is innovative and ambitious, bordering almost on experimental. For instance, the author uses a number of unconventional literary devices including the second person narrative for “Richard’s” chapters, often emphasizing just how far out of his depth he is by starting the character’s sections with “Here’s what you don’t know…”, while of course empowering the reader because we are afforded the luxury of seeing the whole picture. As well, we bounce between points-of-view, making the narrative as a whole feel somewhat disjointed and choppy. Dialogue is also presented without the traditional quotation marks, and tends to run together.
The real kicker though, is that while I could grasp the overall gist of what the author was attempting to do, the unusual style sadly had the effect of alienating the reader, taking a lot away from the impact she was hoping to convey. The philosophy and social commentary also gets lost in all the muddled narratives and side plots, and the problem is compounded when none of the characters are all that likeable (though in all fairness, this is by design) or sympathetic enough for me to care about them. Wilson has created an incredible thing here, and it’s especially impressive for a debut novel…but still, something felt missing.
I’ve been pondering how to put my feelings into words, and in the end I think it amounts to this: We Eat Are Own is a book that will be more appreciated for its bold structure and its artistry, rather than for its story or ideas. While the original inspiration behind it is fascinating—and I think Cannibal Holocaust enthusiasts will get a kick out of it—I just never felt connected to the narrative on a level beyond, “Hey, this is a pretty neat premise for a book.” Fans of literary fiction will probably enjoy the thematic parallels to classics like Heart of Darkness and other works that explore the savagery and moral confusion deep within the human condition. Readers of more traditional horror on the other hand, though, are likely better off looking elsewhere.
So, I’ve never seen Cannibal Holocaust. Its huge cult following and legacy as a definitive film in the exploitation horror genre notwithstanding, I already know that kind of movie is not my bag, and my queasiness from viewing its Wikipedia page alone is confirmation enough of that. And yet, when I saw the description of this book I was immediately intrigued, especially by the part about the story being inspired by the true events surrounding the making of the film. If you aren’t familiar with the controversy there, when Cannibal Holocaust came out in the early 80s it achieved massive notoriety for its gruesome and violent content, but also when it came to light that there were unsavory practices on set that proved quite disturbing.
We Eat Our Own is essentially the novelized incarnation of that story. It tells of an unnamed struggling actor, only referred to as his on-screen name “Richard”, getting a call from his agent out of the blue about a once in a lifetime opportunity—an Italian art film director is in need of a new lead because his original actor quit right on the tarmac after seeing the script. This could be the big break “Richard” needs, but the catch is, he’ll need to pack up and leave right this instant. The rest of the crew are already shooting in the Amazon rainforest, and production is already behind schedule and over-budget. The plane to Bogotá leaves from the airport in six hours; just be on it.
Not long after “Richard” arrives on set though, he wonders if he’s made a mistake. The director is a nutcase, who seems to be making things up as he goes along. Many of his methods are unorthodox and unethical, especially when it comes to the treatment of animals on set as well as his attitudes towards the native extras. There is no script, not enough set materials, and hardly any safety. They’re in the middle of nowhere far from civilization, in an area made unstable by the activity of the drug cartels and M-19 guerilla fighters. The jungle itself is oppressive, the air hot and wet, the river brown and soupy and full of parasites. Despite the hours of acting classes and theater school, nothing could have prepared our main character for any of this.
For me, this book was a total surprise, but I’m still trying to decide whether it was a positive or negative one. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure what I expected beyond having glimpsed a description of the style as being “literary horror”, but it’s probably safe to say the book turned out even more artsy than I’d anticipated. The prose is innovative and ambitious, bordering almost on experimental. For instance, the author uses a number of unconventional literary devices including the second person narrative for “Richard’s” chapters, often emphasizing just how far out of his depth he is by starting the character’s sections with “Here’s what you don’t know…”, while of course empowering the reader because we are afforded the luxury of seeing the whole picture. As well, we bounce between points-of-view, making the narrative as a whole feel somewhat disjointed and choppy. Dialogue is also presented without the traditional quotation marks, and tends to run together.
The real kicker though, is that while I could grasp the overall gist of what the author was attempting to do, the unusual style sadly had the effect of alienating the reader, taking a lot away from the impact she was hoping to convey. The philosophy and social commentary also gets lost in all the muddled narratives and side plots, and the problem is compounded when none of the characters are all that likeable (though in all fairness, this is by design) or sympathetic enough for me to care about them. Wilson has created an incredible thing here, and it’s especially impressive for a debut novel…but still, something felt missing.
I’ve been pondering how to put my feelings into words, and in the end I think it amounts to this: We Eat Are Own is a book that will be more appreciated for its bold structure and its artistry, rather than for its story or ideas. While the original inspiration behind it is fascinating—and I think Cannibal Holocaust enthusiasts will get a kick out of it—I just never felt connected to the narrative on a level beyond, “Hey, this is a pretty neat premise for a book.” Fans of literary fiction will probably enjoy the thematic parallels to classics like Heart of Darkness and other works that explore the savagery and moral confusion deep within the human condition. Readers of more traditional horror on the other hand, though, are likely better off looking elsewhere.
May 10, 2017
Kea Wilson can write. Her style is unique. It took a moment to get used to, but her writing was so well crafted, that after the first chapter or two, instead of being a distraction it really held it together despite the back and forth narrative and jumping timelines.
6 weeks. $217 per week. The opportunity of a lifetime. An Italian art film set the Amazonian rainforest titled “Jungle Bloodbath”. Richard getting the lead role. Nice. What could possibly go wrong?
No script, M-19 resistance compadres, a director going off the rails, some missing kilos, headless turtles, snuff trials, brainless spider monkeys and bloodthirsty cannibals in a hive tree. Ok. There may be a few issues.
A damn good debut effort and an overall solid novel. 4.5 Stars and Highly Recommended! I am very interested to see what Kea comes up with next. Bring it.
“There’s no such thing as murder in the jungle.”
Note: After finishing WEOO I went ahead and tracked down Cannibal Holocaust and gave it a watch. That was one brutal mother fucker of a movie. I can see why it was riddled in controversy and banned in several countries. The story of the making of it and subsequent snuff film trial is really quite fascinating and I can now clearly see the inspiration behind Kea’s novel.
6 weeks. $217 per week. The opportunity of a lifetime. An Italian art film set the Amazonian rainforest titled “Jungle Bloodbath”. Richard getting the lead role. Nice. What could possibly go wrong?
No script, M-19 resistance compadres, a director going off the rails, some missing kilos, headless turtles, snuff trials, brainless spider monkeys and bloodthirsty cannibals in a hive tree. Ok. There may be a few issues.
A damn good debut effort and an overall solid novel. 4.5 Stars and Highly Recommended! I am very interested to see what Kea comes up with next. Bring it.
“There’s no such thing as murder in the jungle.”
Note: After finishing WEOO I went ahead and tracked down Cannibal Holocaust and gave it a watch. That was one brutal mother fucker of a movie. I can see why it was riddled in controversy and banned in several countries. The story of the making of it and subsequent snuff film trial is really quite fascinating and I can now clearly see the inspiration behind Kea’s novel.
February 19, 2017
So I completely misunderstood what this book was: I'd seen it labelled as horror and just dived straight in assuming it was going to be horror. It is, in fact, probably better described as literary suspense. My misunderstanding arose from the fact that it's about the making of a horror film; the author has said it's based on the story behind Cannibal Holocaust, and it does indeed bear a similarity to the events surrounding that film. Led by an eccentric Italian director, a group of inexperienced actors and crew make camp in the Colombian jungle, knowing little about the movie they are about to make. Their experiences provide a variety of perspectives for the story to be told from, with a particularly close focus on the male lead, so desperate to clutch at this chance of fame that he doesn't even ask to see a script before leaving his girlfriend and flying to Bogotá. Some of those involved with the film get unwittingly caught up in the machinations of a local drug cartel and a band of inexpert revolutionaries, with inevitably bloody consequences. Meawhile, flash-forwards to scenes in which the director is on trial suggest some of the cast may have come to harm during the production.
We Eat Our Own is one of those unrelentingly tense books that has you biting your nails all the way through but somehow proves unmemorable afterwards. Once I got over the disappointment of it not being horror, I really enjoyed it, but the atmosphere – humid forest, sludgy rivers, a constant, non-specific threat of danger – has stayed with me more vividly than the story or characters.
TinyLetter | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr
We Eat Our Own is one of those unrelentingly tense books that has you biting your nails all the way through but somehow proves unmemorable afterwards. Once I got over the disappointment of it not being horror, I really enjoyed it, but the atmosphere – humid forest, sludgy rivers, a constant, non-specific threat of danger – has stayed with me more vividly than the story or characters.
TinyLetter | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr
December 23, 2016
This novel is brilliant. 70's Italian exploitation cannibal flick being filmed in Columbia with political turmoil swirling around the set and on. A book about violence (both real and imagined) and so dark, weird, human, and beautifully written. One of the best of 2016.
October 7, 2020
WE EAT OUR OWN was the first book on my October TBR 2020. I like to abandon all my review copies and reach back into the archives of horror fiction to catch up on some previously released titles that I might have missed.
This book was Kea Wilson's debut novel in 2016. It looks like she hasn't released anything else since. I was enticed to read this book because of the synopsis and some hype from other readers.
There are several POVs each identified in the chapter heading by name and location. The best storyline is that told in a second-person POV. "You" are an American actor known as "Richard" who impulsively leaves his girlfriend and his life in the states to film a movie in the Amazonian jungle of Columbia. This will probably go down as my favorite second-person POV storytelling next to Caroline Kepnes' YOU.
The style is so fresh and so "in the moment" that is draws the reader into the utter chaos and confusion "you" are experiencing as this young, desperate actor throwing all caution and red flags into the wind to chase this dream of making it big in Hollywood.
It's clear, right away, that "you" don't know anything as the narrative also includes some asides to the reader that start off, "Here's what you don't know". I hung on every word of this narrative. So totally immersive and unsettling.
We also get to observe events as they unfold through the eyes of some other major players: A couple in a relationship who work in special effects. A young actress from another country who seems reckless and self-sabotaging. Members of a drug cartel. Members of the cast and crew who are Italian and more but none of this is confusing. It's a large cast, for sure, but somehow--Kea Wilson keeps everything neat as a pin and straight as an arrow. Nothing is muddled or unintentional.
The suspense just builds and builds and builds. I can't even begin to explain how totally helpless I felt, reading the plight of the individuals filming this movie in the jungle with this Italian director who seems hellbent on being as shocking and close to reality as possible. It's hard to tell, as you're reading, what is really happening and what is actually just impromptu special effects.
Breaking up all the real-time POV are some cut-aways to a courtroom drama where it appears the Italian director is being tried for something that happened on set--this gives the reader even EXTRA anxiety. SO MUCH ANXIETY! It reminded me of reading THE RUINS-all these people tromping around in a hostile environment seemingly unaware of how their lives hang in the balance.
I enjoyed it.
My only complaint is that I wanted things to go off the rails. Bananas. It certainly felt like the climax would go there but I must admit I was a little disappointed. But that's just a minor drawback because really, the fun was in the journey--not the destination.
This book was Kea Wilson's debut novel in 2016. It looks like she hasn't released anything else since. I was enticed to read this book because of the synopsis and some hype from other readers.
There are several POVs each identified in the chapter heading by name and location. The best storyline is that told in a second-person POV. "You" are an American actor known as "Richard" who impulsively leaves his girlfriend and his life in the states to film a movie in the Amazonian jungle of Columbia. This will probably go down as my favorite second-person POV storytelling next to Caroline Kepnes' YOU.
The style is so fresh and so "in the moment" that is draws the reader into the utter chaos and confusion "you" are experiencing as this young, desperate actor throwing all caution and red flags into the wind to chase this dream of making it big in Hollywood.
It's clear, right away, that "you" don't know anything as the narrative also includes some asides to the reader that start off, "Here's what you don't know". I hung on every word of this narrative. So totally immersive and unsettling.
We also get to observe events as they unfold through the eyes of some other major players: A couple in a relationship who work in special effects. A young actress from another country who seems reckless and self-sabotaging. Members of a drug cartel. Members of the cast and crew who are Italian and more but none of this is confusing. It's a large cast, for sure, but somehow--Kea Wilson keeps everything neat as a pin and straight as an arrow. Nothing is muddled or unintentional.
The suspense just builds and builds and builds. I can't even begin to explain how totally helpless I felt, reading the plight of the individuals filming this movie in the jungle with this Italian director who seems hellbent on being as shocking and close to reality as possible. It's hard to tell, as you're reading, what is really happening and what is actually just impromptu special effects.
Breaking up all the real-time POV are some cut-aways to a courtroom drama where it appears the Italian director is being tried for something that happened on set--this gives the reader even EXTRA anxiety. SO MUCH ANXIETY! It reminded me of reading THE RUINS-all these people tromping around in a hostile environment seemingly unaware of how their lives hang in the balance.
I enjoyed it.
My only complaint is that I wanted things to go off the rails. Bananas. It certainly felt like the climax would go there but I must admit I was a little disappointed. But that's just a minor drawback because really, the fun was in the journey--not the destination.
May 15, 2016
Here's something you won't know until you read this book: how an author can simultaneously break all the conventional rules and yet tie it all together in a package so alarmingly distinct, you wonder why other authors haven't already done this.
Here's something else you won't know: how much you are going to enjoy this.
"We Eat Our Own" accomplishes what most authors will never do in their entire careers -- quite simply, it raises the bar. A highly original voice, the shocking (yet effective and appropriate) use of second person POV, a gritty and realistic setting, characters so flawed they could be any one of us, and prose so fresh it reads as if you're discovering a new language. The fact that this novel is a debut work is mind-boggling, to say the least.
To me this read like something Cormac McCarthy would wish he had written. An Italian art film being shot in the jungles of the Amazon by a psychotic director who wants the audience to "feel" the movie. An American actor thrown into the mix without a script, without a clue, and without much chance of survival. Guerillas soldiers, who are really kids, attempting to secure their country and fight for the Columbia they dream of. Drug trafficking, native Indians, cannibalism, and an Italian actress who unintentionally drives these separate worlds into a fatal collision course.
My greatest fear as I dove into this novel was that the ending wouldn't live up to the rest of the story, that it would go down the tired and worn path of expectation. Happy to say that wasn't the case, and the climax makes the journey all that more palatable.
A bloody and brilliant piece of literary work, "We Eat Our Own" is officially my favorite read of 2016 (so far, at least). Admittedly, this is a novel not everyone will "get," but it's a novel that deserves to be read, studied, and shared. And remember:
"There's no such thing as murder in the jungle."
** I received a free copy of this book through NetGalley. Thanks to the publisher and author. This in no way influenced my review **
Here's something else you won't know: how much you are going to enjoy this.
"We Eat Our Own" accomplishes what most authors will never do in their entire careers -- quite simply, it raises the bar. A highly original voice, the shocking (yet effective and appropriate) use of second person POV, a gritty and realistic setting, characters so flawed they could be any one of us, and prose so fresh it reads as if you're discovering a new language. The fact that this novel is a debut work is mind-boggling, to say the least.
To me this read like something Cormac McCarthy would wish he had written. An Italian art film being shot in the jungles of the Amazon by a psychotic director who wants the audience to "feel" the movie. An American actor thrown into the mix without a script, without a clue, and without much chance of survival. Guerillas soldiers, who are really kids, attempting to secure their country and fight for the Columbia they dream of. Drug trafficking, native Indians, cannibalism, and an Italian actress who unintentionally drives these separate worlds into a fatal collision course.
My greatest fear as I dove into this novel was that the ending wouldn't live up to the rest of the story, that it would go down the tired and worn path of expectation. Happy to say that wasn't the case, and the climax makes the journey all that more palatable.
A bloody and brilliant piece of literary work, "We Eat Our Own" is officially my favorite read of 2016 (so far, at least). Admittedly, this is a novel not everyone will "get," but it's a novel that deserves to be read, studied, and shared. And remember:
"There's no such thing as murder in the jungle."
** I received a free copy of this book through NetGalley. Thanks to the publisher and author. This in no way influenced my review **
March 21, 2018
This was very good but I didn't like it. The prose was unique, I didn't think it would be a problem for me, but it was. Either the style works for you or it doesn't. Clever premise in any case.
August 29, 2016
This book is a mess, and not in a good way.
As a lifelong horror movie fan, I was initially so intrigued when I read that it was based on the production of Cannibal Holocaust, one of the most controversial exploitation films ever made.
The controversy behind Cannibal Holocaust is actually pretty interesting, and We Eat Our Own mirrors it closely: An abrasive Italian film director flies a bunch of desperate no-name actors to the middle of the jungle to film a gruesome movie that they know little about. The movie winds up being so realistic that it's banned in dozens of countries and the director is arrested under suspicion of making a snuff film.
The main problem with We Eat Our own is that it takes an inherently interesting story and muddies it up with several alternating narrative perspectives and weak subplots, when the better choice would have been to focus on stronger development of a couple of the main characters.
There were a few points when I almost bailed because it just was not working for me. I see what author was going for thematically — blurring the lines between fictional and real violence as a commentary on both — but there was so much squandered potential here.
It's a fast read, and diehard horror fans will appreciate the homage to Cannibal Holocaust, but there's really nothing here that you can't get from reading the Cannibal Holocaust Wikipedia page.
Also worth noting: I was hoping for more cannibalism. (I can't believe I just wrote that line. Please don't quote me out of context!)
Note: I received an advanced digital copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
As a lifelong horror movie fan, I was initially so intrigued when I read that it was based on the production of Cannibal Holocaust, one of the most controversial exploitation films ever made.
The controversy behind Cannibal Holocaust is actually pretty interesting, and We Eat Our Own mirrors it closely: An abrasive Italian film director flies a bunch of desperate no-name actors to the middle of the jungle to film a gruesome movie that they know little about. The movie winds up being so realistic that it's banned in dozens of countries and the director is arrested under suspicion of making a snuff film.
The main problem with We Eat Our own is that it takes an inherently interesting story and muddies it up with several alternating narrative perspectives and weak subplots, when the better choice would have been to focus on stronger development of a couple of the main characters.
There were a few points when I almost bailed because it just was not working for me. I see what author was going for thematically — blurring the lines between fictional and real violence as a commentary on both — but there was so much squandered potential here.
It's a fast read, and diehard horror fans will appreciate the homage to Cannibal Holocaust, but there's really nothing here that you can't get from reading the Cannibal Holocaust Wikipedia page.
Also worth noting: I was hoping for more cannibalism. (I can't believe I just wrote that line. Please don't quote me out of context!)
Note: I received an advanced digital copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
February 8, 2017
LOVED this. Definitely my favourite book of 2016 so far. It's creepy, enlightening, thoughtful and beautifully written. I can never get enough literary horror, and this is a fantastic example. Cannibal Holocaust meets [meats?] Heart of Darkness.
One of my favourites of 2016, in the category 'Best Literary Horror': http://www.kirstylogan.com/best-books...
One of my favourites of 2016, in the category 'Best Literary Horror': http://www.kirstylogan.com/best-books...
April 22, 2016
When a nameless actor receives a call from his agent about a "can't miss" movie opportunity in South America, he drops everything, grabs his passport, and gets on a plane with few questions asked and none answered.
When he arrives on set in Columbia, his passport is taken "for safe keeping" and he quickly learns that while he may be the movie's lead actor, the title doesn't seem to mean much. He goes days without uttering a line and he's treated with increasing disdain each time he asks to see the script.
It turns out that none of the actors has seen the script because there isn't one. The director, a longtime purveyor of schlocky horror films seems to be unhinged and intent on shooting a documentary style horror film (think Blair Witch Project but 25 years before anything like that was done). While this in itself isn't necessarily a bad thing, his obsession with this "real" style extends beyond the bounds of safe (read insurable) movie making and he appears to think nothing of putting his actors in harm's way to get the shot he's obsessed with on any particular day. And the dangers aren't just the usual hazards that the Columbian jungle provides, you know, a forest that is basically trying to devour everything that enters it. But there is also a revolutionary element very near the set and in fact the man who procures the food, housing and extras for the film is also the contact between the young revolutionaries and a drug cartel putting all of these people in dangerous proximity.
The nameless American lead learns daily that he is not in a safe situation and an angst hangs over the entire experience, building toward some future horror that neither he, nor the reader is quite able to predict. This literary horror novel is ambitious, and nearly 1/3 of it is told in the rarely used second person. That narrative is the actor's and it seems that the reader is meant to experience the events as though they were him. While this was certainly an interesting technique (I don't know that I've read anything in the second person since the Choose Your Own Adventure series back in the late 70s early 80s), I'm not sure it successfully increased my own anxiety as I read, and I wonder if the first or third person wouldn't have been equally or even more efficacious.
We Eat Our Own is a unique take on horror that, while interesting, takes on a bit too much and has some difficulty tying its many pieces together. Engaging and readable, it relies on a building angst and apprehension to convey its story and for some that may be enough, but for me it never quite rises to the level of horror.
Note: Galley copy received free via NetGalley
When he arrives on set in Columbia, his passport is taken "for safe keeping" and he quickly learns that while he may be the movie's lead actor, the title doesn't seem to mean much. He goes days without uttering a line and he's treated with increasing disdain each time he asks to see the script.
It turns out that none of the actors has seen the script because there isn't one. The director, a longtime purveyor of schlocky horror films seems to be unhinged and intent on shooting a documentary style horror film (think Blair Witch Project but 25 years before anything like that was done). While this in itself isn't necessarily a bad thing, his obsession with this "real" style extends beyond the bounds of safe (read insurable) movie making and he appears to think nothing of putting his actors in harm's way to get the shot he's obsessed with on any particular day. And the dangers aren't just the usual hazards that the Columbian jungle provides, you know, a forest that is basically trying to devour everything that enters it. But there is also a revolutionary element very near the set and in fact the man who procures the food, housing and extras for the film is also the contact between the young revolutionaries and a drug cartel putting all of these people in dangerous proximity.
The nameless American lead learns daily that he is not in a safe situation and an angst hangs over the entire experience, building toward some future horror that neither he, nor the reader is quite able to predict. This literary horror novel is ambitious, and nearly 1/3 of it is told in the rarely used second person. That narrative is the actor's and it seems that the reader is meant to experience the events as though they were him. While this was certainly an interesting technique (I don't know that I've read anything in the second person since the Choose Your Own Adventure series back in the late 70s early 80s), I'm not sure it successfully increased my own anxiety as I read, and I wonder if the first or third person wouldn't have been equally or even more efficacious.
We Eat Our Own is a unique take on horror that, while interesting, takes on a bit too much and has some difficulty tying its many pieces together. Engaging and readable, it relies on a building angst and apprehension to convey its story and for some that may be enough, but for me it never quite rises to the level of horror.
Note: Galley copy received free via NetGalley
September 19, 2016
"We Eat Our Own" was an interesting and certainly unique book. Loosely based on the cult film Cannibal Holocaust (a very brutal and disturbing movie), the plot involves an eccentric Italian director making an art film in the Amazon Jungle. Add guerrilla groups, an unforgiving environment, a mentally unstable director, and actors/crew that have no idea what to expect next- you have the makings of a very unique story.
January 3, 2017
Twisted-- the best word I can use to describe this book. The plots are intertwined around each other and the prose is sharp and disturbing. Wilson's debut drags the reader into scenes that they don't really want to see, but that's kind of the point.
Set in the 1970s in Columbia, this book follows a movie crew shooting a horror/exploitation film (TW) and a parallel plot about rebels and drug cartels. Deep rumination on violence. Disturbing read.
Set in the 1970s in Columbia, this book follows a movie crew shooting a horror/exploitation film (TW) and a parallel plot about rebels and drug cartels. Deep rumination on violence. Disturbing read.
May 7, 2017
This book is all about gross meat and humming insects and mud and bugs getting caught in your sweat and racing second person present tense and being sticky all the time and never, ever having any idea what the fuck is going on & it’s pretty incredible. A non-communicative Italian director is filming an unscripted cross between Cannibal Holocaust and The Blair Witch Project in the Colombian jungle. The project is complicated by language barriers, his reluctance to speak - ever - and rebels who are planning to murder the Colombian president. Perspectives shift wildly between different characters (the marvelous Irena being my personal favorite) and everything has already happened and is being bracketed by transcripts from the director's present day trial for second degree murder and criminal negligence. Wilson does an absolutely incredible job of ramping tension and manufacturing dread, and the reader is often just as unable to discern what's going on in reality vs. what's part of the movie/special effects as the characters, particularly the hapless "Richard." Also, there's scene featuring the dismantling of a dead snake near the beginning wherein Wilson does such a brilliant job of conveying the smell of the snake's flesh and character's breath and their drunkeness and the "black tissues that came off in long strands" and "yellow fluid" under people's fingernails that I was unable to read this on my lunch break. "Slipping pieces of rib out of the meat like sewing pins" indeed. Ugh. This is a great debut novel but the ending is a little cheap for anyone who knows about or has seen and the plotline featuring the rebels is some fine writing that feels wasted by the way it all works out.
April 28, 2016
We Eat Our Own is an interesting story with elements of horror and sociological thriller intertwined with a backdrop of an art film/schlock horror low budget film (think Cannibal Holocaust).
The lead character makes his way to film, leaving his overly understanding girlfriend, no script, no idea of pay and runs towards a job that he basically knows nothing about.
The narrative is written in the second person and outside of the lead character calling out to himself in the third person, tends to leave the reader disconnected with the story. At times, the plot seems rather forced and it does have a square peg in a round hole mentality which the author has thrown everything in and stirred and hoped for the best.
Unfortunately, some things work, others do not and there is an unevenness to the story within itself. The characters are hard to identify with and hard to feel any real emotion for.
We Eat Our Own does have alot of interesting aspects within its narrative and felt that Wilson probably was trying to find an unique voice within her narrative frame. As this is probably to make the story stand out more on the second person narrative to make it more attractive to the more "literate" reader. Personally, I find this does get in the way of a good story as a third person narrative would have given a more accessible quality to the book.
It will be interesting to see what Wilson comes out with in the future and there is a talent here that is starting to emerged. Plot strands and endings are left unattended like the jungle of the story which leaves the reader with an unsatisfactory conclusion.
Critics will probably enjoy it but the casual reader may find this devoid of feeling and a bit like being extremely hungry and given a couple of appetizers to fill the void.
The lead character makes his way to film, leaving his overly understanding girlfriend, no script, no idea of pay and runs towards a job that he basically knows nothing about.
The narrative is written in the second person and outside of the lead character calling out to himself in the third person, tends to leave the reader disconnected with the story. At times, the plot seems rather forced and it does have a square peg in a round hole mentality which the author has thrown everything in and stirred and hoped for the best.
Unfortunately, some things work, others do not and there is an unevenness to the story within itself. The characters are hard to identify with and hard to feel any real emotion for.
We Eat Our Own does have alot of interesting aspects within its narrative and felt that Wilson probably was trying to find an unique voice within her narrative frame. As this is probably to make the story stand out more on the second person narrative to make it more attractive to the more "literate" reader. Personally, I find this does get in the way of a good story as a third person narrative would have given a more accessible quality to the book.
It will be interesting to see what Wilson comes out with in the future and there is a talent here that is starting to emerged. Plot strands and endings are left unattended like the jungle of the story which leaves the reader with an unsatisfactory conclusion.
Critics will probably enjoy it but the casual reader may find this devoid of feeling and a bit like being extremely hungry and given a couple of appetizers to fill the void.
August 22, 2016
This beautifully written novel is about the making of an Italian art film in the Amazon jungle, which quickly brings to mind "Hannibal Holocaust", one of the most notorious horror movies in the history of the genre, a fact that the author does not hide. The jungle is the protagonist and the background, while themes such as violence, political struggle, the exploitation of the third world, the fight for survival are all explored in the pages of this wonderful horror/sociopolitical novel (a subgenre I immensely enjoy lately). Also, the reconstruction of '70's New York and South America was very detailed and carefully crafted considering the author's age.
All in all, a very good first novel, highly recommended to horror fans as well as normal people (!). Many thanks to NetGalley, Scribner and Kea Wilson for providing a free copy of this book.
All in all, a very good first novel, highly recommended to horror fans as well as normal people (!). Many thanks to NetGalley, Scribner and Kea Wilson for providing a free copy of this book.
July 9, 2017
In 1982, Warner Herzog and crew decamped for Iquitos, deep in the Amazon drainage of Peru to make Fitzcarraldo, a film about a crazed Irishman who dreamt of bringing opera to the Amazon. In service of this goal, he takes a steamship into the jungle in search of rubber trees, at that point the Amazon’s true hidden cash crop, all the more valued for being completely unsuitable for domestic agricultural production and therefore only obtainable through an extremely dangerous process of forage. He loses his way along the tributaries of the Upper Amazon, and ultimately ends up pinned by rapids one river valley away from where he’d meant to go. His conclusion (and Herzog’s) is to tow the authentic and extremely heavy steamship over a small mountain to reach the other tributary. Herzog insisted that this process be filmed without special effects, instead employing Aguaruna indians to clear the forest and build the complex latticework of pulleys, levers and gangways out of only found materials and what they’d brought with them on the steamship, along with providing the obviously dangerous and intense labor necessary to haul the 30 ton ship over a hill. The Iquitos of 1982 was impossibly remote and still largely indigenous, and the filming now legendarily laborious, with the initial lead actor ultimately sent home halfway through filming after contracting malaria and at least six major injuries occurring on-set. The Aguaruna, exposed to extreme hardship for minimal compensation, at one point made a serious offer to Herzog to kill lead actor Klaus Kinski, and ultimately burned the set of the film to the ground in protest of the hardships suffered by their community. Subsequent interviews with Herzog suggest a creative vision that wanted to capture the authenticity of suffering, a new sort of documentary as fiction in a time that had still not yet dreamt of a Blair Witch Project, and at far vaster scale and with much more at stake for the cast.
There’s something interesting and mostly unexplored about this dynamic - an auteur director filled with the desire to defeat the idea of narrative by forcing their actors through enough suffering as to make them move to something beyond acting, a closer hybrid of lived and faked experience. This is a technique with precedent: Bernardo Bertalucci eventually admitted that the rape scene in Last Tango in Paris was something short of consensual because he wanted the actress to react as a woman and not as an actress.
This idea of abusing your actors’ expectations and bodies to achieve some higher truth is plenty interesting enough, but it’s not quite enough for We Eat Our Own, which takes what reads like a note-for-note recitation of the production of Ruggero Deodato’s 1980 exploitation film Cannibal Holocaust and throws in a lot of additional fictional backstory which doesn’t surpass what actually happened with Cannibal Holocaust, a film so widely believed to be a documentary that the director was actually tried for murder before his cast came forward and affirmed that it was just an act and they were not, in fact, eaten by cannibals..
We Eat Our Own begins with an unknown and unsuccessful actor abandoning his life and lukewarm relationship to decamp for Bogota on little more than a phone call about the rumor of a part in a movie. By his arrival in the jungle, it’s clear that he’s stepped into something beyond his ability, and he figures out that trouble almost as soon as he steps off of the plane. The director figure is probably meant to be an only somewhat abstracted Deodato - unreasonably intense, grandiose, full of hallucinations that might not be transferrable to celluloid without doing some very bad things, pushing the actors to greater and greater risk and self-degradation in service of what sounds like something that sounds like a cross between a B-Horror movie and a snuff film. In one of several direct nods to Cannibal Holocaust, the eventual prosecution of the director for the disappearance of his actors during filming is revealed through a series of flash-forwards spliced throughout the narrative.
And there’s a lot of splicing. I understand that the task of weaving all of the seemingly far-flung threads together at the end of the story is Priority Alpha for fancy writers, but it’s dangerous stuff when done sloppily. All of those wormy threads can easily spiral off into nothing and disappear altogether, doing nothing but spacing the good parts further apart. We Eat Our Own is very committed to pointless narrative egalitarianism, and spends a lot of ink giving even the bit players their own speaking parts and backstory. We will hear from the maid (only twice, at the beginning and end), the special effects experts and makeup people, and from a 19 year old Colombian guerilla who never makes it within 500 miles of the actual action, and while each will present with a subplot that might theoretically tie into something larger, they are usually forgotten after 20 pages. This desire to humanize and contextualize everyone does the most damage to The Director himself, otherwise the dark protagonist of this whole affair and its Deodato/Herzog figure. The seemingly arbitrary tempest of his moods and his dangerous unknowability are the main engine driving the action. The fever of his vision is played out on his actors, on jungle animals, on the indigenous population. His psyche is meant to be dark, labyrinthine, opaque, morally indifferent. This is undercut completely by overexposition. Peeling the curtain back on your sociopathic genius is a dangerous thing, especially when he comes across as petulant and arbitrary rather than mad or lost. The reader doesn’t want to put in 200 pages to learn that Darth Vader was just a little gassy when he choked that guy.
Where We Eat Our Own differs most profoundly from Cannibal Holocaust is in the awkward insertion of a plotline about Colombian guerillas who lurk both literally and symbolically around the edge of the filming, which is part of why Fitzcarraldo remains an important touchstone - like Fitzcarraldo, We Eat Our Own tries to engage with the locals, so to speak. We Eat Our Own just doesn’t do a very good job of it. There’s a thin story around guerillas and narcotrafficking that ends up not mattering much, and a few peripheral characters who present their own geopolitically complicated menace before mostly fizzling out as a threat in the book’s final act. These digressions would be distracting no matter what, but it’s worse because the author doesn’t seem to know nearly as much about Colombia as she does about filming. The author reads like a recovering theater dork, overfamiliar and too quick to use the language of staging, blocking, lighting and special effects but way less comfortable with politics, culture or history. The bit about the guerillas is comparatively vague, coarsely sketched, and plugged in mostly to provide another layer of danger. But the decision to include any commentary on Colombian politics, albeit quick and convenient, risks flipping the figurative script completely. The movie seems stupid, the plight of the actors secondary, the narrative priorities all wrong. Juxtaposing Colombian guerillas dying of malaria in fetid jungles with directorial asides on the need to put a rape scene in any good exploitation movie would be a hard target for even a more established author with a surer sense of her own footing. A story about making a Grindhouse flick in the middle of the Amazon is interesting enough without so much extra luggage. This one suffers for its own commitment to flourish.
There’s something interesting and mostly unexplored about this dynamic - an auteur director filled with the desire to defeat the idea of narrative by forcing their actors through enough suffering as to make them move to something beyond acting, a closer hybrid of lived and faked experience. This is a technique with precedent: Bernardo Bertalucci eventually admitted that the rape scene in Last Tango in Paris was something short of consensual because he wanted the actress to react as a woman and not as an actress.
This idea of abusing your actors’ expectations and bodies to achieve some higher truth is plenty interesting enough, but it’s not quite enough for We Eat Our Own, which takes what reads like a note-for-note recitation of the production of Ruggero Deodato’s 1980 exploitation film Cannibal Holocaust and throws in a lot of additional fictional backstory which doesn’t surpass what actually happened with Cannibal Holocaust, a film so widely believed to be a documentary that the director was actually tried for murder before his cast came forward and affirmed that it was just an act and they were not, in fact, eaten by cannibals..
We Eat Our Own begins with an unknown and unsuccessful actor abandoning his life and lukewarm relationship to decamp for Bogota on little more than a phone call about the rumor of a part in a movie. By his arrival in the jungle, it’s clear that he’s stepped into something beyond his ability, and he figures out that trouble almost as soon as he steps off of the plane. The director figure is probably meant to be an only somewhat abstracted Deodato - unreasonably intense, grandiose, full of hallucinations that might not be transferrable to celluloid without doing some very bad things, pushing the actors to greater and greater risk and self-degradation in service of what sounds like something that sounds like a cross between a B-Horror movie and a snuff film. In one of several direct nods to Cannibal Holocaust, the eventual prosecution of the director for the disappearance of his actors during filming is revealed through a series of flash-forwards spliced throughout the narrative.
And there’s a lot of splicing. I understand that the task of weaving all of the seemingly far-flung threads together at the end of the story is Priority Alpha for fancy writers, but it’s dangerous stuff when done sloppily. All of those wormy threads can easily spiral off into nothing and disappear altogether, doing nothing but spacing the good parts further apart. We Eat Our Own is very committed to pointless narrative egalitarianism, and spends a lot of ink giving even the bit players their own speaking parts and backstory. We will hear from the maid (only twice, at the beginning and end), the special effects experts and makeup people, and from a 19 year old Colombian guerilla who never makes it within 500 miles of the actual action, and while each will present with a subplot that might theoretically tie into something larger, they are usually forgotten after 20 pages. This desire to humanize and contextualize everyone does the most damage to The Director himself, otherwise the dark protagonist of this whole affair and its Deodato/Herzog figure. The seemingly arbitrary tempest of his moods and his dangerous unknowability are the main engine driving the action. The fever of his vision is played out on his actors, on jungle animals, on the indigenous population. His psyche is meant to be dark, labyrinthine, opaque, morally indifferent. This is undercut completely by overexposition. Peeling the curtain back on your sociopathic genius is a dangerous thing, especially when he comes across as petulant and arbitrary rather than mad or lost. The reader doesn’t want to put in 200 pages to learn that Darth Vader was just a little gassy when he choked that guy.
Where We Eat Our Own differs most profoundly from Cannibal Holocaust is in the awkward insertion of a plotline about Colombian guerillas who lurk both literally and symbolically around the edge of the filming, which is part of why Fitzcarraldo remains an important touchstone - like Fitzcarraldo, We Eat Our Own tries to engage with the locals, so to speak. We Eat Our Own just doesn’t do a very good job of it. There’s a thin story around guerillas and narcotrafficking that ends up not mattering much, and a few peripheral characters who present their own geopolitically complicated menace before mostly fizzling out as a threat in the book’s final act. These digressions would be distracting no matter what, but it’s worse because the author doesn’t seem to know nearly as much about Colombia as she does about filming. The author reads like a recovering theater dork, overfamiliar and too quick to use the language of staging, blocking, lighting and special effects but way less comfortable with politics, culture or history. The bit about the guerillas is comparatively vague, coarsely sketched, and plugged in mostly to provide another layer of danger. But the decision to include any commentary on Colombian politics, albeit quick and convenient, risks flipping the figurative script completely. The movie seems stupid, the plight of the actors secondary, the narrative priorities all wrong. Juxtaposing Colombian guerillas dying of malaria in fetid jungles with directorial asides on the need to put a rape scene in any good exploitation movie would be a hard target for even a more established author with a surer sense of her own footing. A story about making a Grindhouse flick in the middle of the Amazon is interesting enough without so much extra luggage. This one suffers for its own commitment to flourish.
October 15, 2020
I feel like this book either needed to lean more into being about Cannibal Holocaust or else just do something completely different because it kind of waffled around in the middle and I didn't find it enjoyable at all. I think it was an interesting attempt at a different style of writing and the whole thing about having different identities and which one is your 'real' identity etc was interesting but all the different POVs were a bit much and, while I understand what she was going for, having the main actor's POV in second person while everyone else was presented in third person omniscient was just really weird especially in the audio. Maybe if they had gotten different voice actors for the different POVs it would have flowed better.
Similarly the stuff with the guerillas was like I get what she was going for it but it was just so boring and such a jarring shift from the horror movie plotline whenever it happened. I think it would have been better to either keep it to the horror angle and have it turn out that the director actually *did* murder the actors or just switch it entirely over to a political thriller and focus more on that because all the jumping back and forth didn't work for me at all. Also the out of order storytelling would usually be a good way to build up tension but if you're familiar at all with Cannibal Holocaust you knew what was going on for the most part anyway. Like I said, I think it either needed to lean into it or deviate from it entirely.
Note, for those of you not familiar with the source material: trigger warnings for several animal deaths [dog, turtle, and pig are the ones included in the book as far as I remember] and simulated rape scenes [for the movie, none are very graphic from what I remember]
Similarly the stuff with the guerillas was like I get what she was going for it but it was just so boring and such a jarring shift from the horror movie plotline whenever it happened. I think it would have been better to either keep it to the horror angle and have it turn out that the director actually *did* murder the actors or just switch it entirely over to a political thriller and focus more on that because all the jumping back and forth didn't work for me at all. Also the out of order storytelling would usually be a good way to build up tension but if you're familiar at all with Cannibal Holocaust you knew what was going on for the most part anyway. Like I said, I think it either needed to lean into it or deviate from it entirely.
Note, for those of you not familiar with the source material: trigger warnings for several animal deaths [dog, turtle, and pig are the ones included in the book as far as I remember] and simulated rape scenes [for the movie, none are very graphic from what I remember]
September 10, 2023
DNF - tried to get at least halfway through this book, but the narrations and story structure made it too insufferable to finish 😑 In fact, I'd bet my next pay cheque that the film this is loosely based on, the 1980 video nasty Cannibal Holocaust, is probably more intellectually stimulating and enjoyable than this book.
August 10, 2016
I have seen Cannibal Holocaust. I know the brutality it shows: the gang rape, brutal torture, cruelty to animals, and shock value. I know that it thrives almost solely on this: the shock value, the desire to thrust you so far out of your comfort zone that the entire movie you're flinching out of disgust and fear. I also know that it was essentially the first movie to ever do the found footage idea--the thing that The Blair Witch Project, Cloverfield, Paranormal Activity, and countless others have used in recent years. Cannibal Holocaust is gnarly and brutal in every way, and its only goal is to make its watchers increasingly uncomfortable with what people can do to each other.
We Eat Our Own is basically Cannibal Holocaust in book form with both second person and third person narrative. I am aware enough to say that I rate this higher because I was fascinated with the original movie the book is based on. The director was a crackpot but he knew exactly what he was doing. What he created was revolutionary and balls to the wall crazy. For me, I think the book kind of diminishes that. It didn't feel urgent or gross and it didn't make me feel like I was getting too close to the grotesqueness to stand it. If anything I wanted it to be MORE in my face. More gore and more sex. It is a fascinating book, sure, but it doesn't do the original source material justice.
We Eat Our Own is basically Cannibal Holocaust in book form with both second person and third person narrative. I am aware enough to say that I rate this higher because I was fascinated with the original movie the book is based on. The director was a crackpot but he knew exactly what he was doing. What he created was revolutionary and balls to the wall crazy. For me, I think the book kind of diminishes that. It didn't feel urgent or gross and it didn't make me feel like I was getting too close to the grotesqueness to stand it. If anything I wanted it to be MORE in my face. More gore and more sex. It is a fascinating book, sure, but it doesn't do the original source material justice.
August 18, 2016
There's no such thing as murder in the jungle
OH.MY.GOD.
This book is nothing like you expect and for the first time in awhile, I felt like I truly had no idea what was going to happen in a novel. I can see how it would be easy to make comparisons to Heart of Darkness or Lord of the Flies, but that doesn't do this story justice. While there's plenty of room for comparable discussions on human nature and what it means to be "civilized", We Eat Our Own isn't at all what it seems and definitely makes you question your own assumptions as a reader.
The author's ability to play with language and a second person POV (something I don't normally enjoy in fiction, but is done so well in this book!) drives up the intensity of the scenes in a way that makes it hard to believe that this is Kea Wilson's first novel. The characters are flawed and at times, extremely despicable, but they're still entirely human and that makes the story all the more frightening.
Thank you, Netgalley and Simon & Schuster, for the introduction to Kea Wilson's first novel - you've started a new literary love affair.
OH.MY.GOD.
This book is nothing like you expect and for the first time in awhile, I felt like I truly had no idea what was going to happen in a novel. I can see how it would be easy to make comparisons to Heart of Darkness or Lord of the Flies, but that doesn't do this story justice. While there's plenty of room for comparable discussions on human nature and what it means to be "civilized", We Eat Our Own isn't at all what it seems and definitely makes you question your own assumptions as a reader.
The author's ability to play with language and a second person POV (something I don't normally enjoy in fiction, but is done so well in this book!) drives up the intensity of the scenes in a way that makes it hard to believe that this is Kea Wilson's first novel. The characters are flawed and at times, extremely despicable, but they're still entirely human and that makes the story all the more frightening.
Thank you, Netgalley and Simon & Schuster, for the introduction to Kea Wilson's first novel - you've started a new literary love affair.
August 1, 2019
Sections of this were hard work and there were times I considered finishing with it, but almost always such sections were followed by one that peaked my intrigue. A hundred pages less and I think this would have been a winner.
This is loosely based on the 1980 exploitation movie Cannibal Holocaust in which an American anthropologist goes in search of a missing film crew, unsurprisingly, things do not go well. The director was subsequently accused of making an actual snuff film. Wilson uses this framework for the novel in which an uncommunicative and slightly insane director assembles a motley cast in the Colombian jungle to shoot Jungle Bloodbath . Parts of it work well, especially the dark humour, and there is a climatic ending with a good twist, but other parts, such as the involvement of Marxist revolutionaries, just don’t fit.
This is loosely based on the 1980 exploitation movie Cannibal Holocaust in which an American anthropologist goes in search of a missing film crew, unsurprisingly, things do not go well. The director was subsequently accused of making an actual snuff film. Wilson uses this framework for the novel in which an uncommunicative and slightly insane director assembles a motley cast in the Colombian jungle to shoot Jungle Bloodbath . Parts of it work well, especially the dark humour, and there is a climatic ending with a good twist, but other parts, such as the involvement of Marxist revolutionaries, just don’t fit.
September 13, 2019
Not horror-horror, just horrific. It’s about the making of a horror film in the Amazon jungle and the circumstances that unfold. I found it completely engrossing and original and, as witness to the story, I wanted to get the hell out of that hot, muddy jungle before something bad happened.
February 1, 2017
If you're looking for a brilliant example of a novel in second person POV, look no further.
Read
October 2, 2022Dnf 23% idk wtf is happening
December 2, 2016
Kea Wilson's debut novel is unlike anything this reader has had the pleasure of reading. It's a literary novel that doesn't follow many of the known conventions.
It's the story of the making of a horror film in the Colombian jungles, but it's told basically in a second person perspective (unusual enough in its own right, but impressive for a debut author) with some third person exposition as well as court testimony.
Another convention that is ignored is the use of quotation marks when the various characters speak. This is reminiscent of Charles Frazier's novel, Cold Mountain, which never used them in that story, either, yet in this story, it works adding to the tension of the plot of the actor being plucked from obscurity into the starring role in a film that seems unbelievable.
For a reader who doesn't understand all the technicalities of movie making, the descriptions of scenes, film techniques, and other movie situations were enlightening as well.
Because of the perspective it was written, YOU learn about the movie process, YOU become immersed in the world of the Colombian jungles and all that goes on behind the scenes, and YOU are given a front row seat into the mind of the protagonist (the American actor plucked from obscurity) Richard Trent, aka Adrian White.
Overall, a literary novel well worth the read. 4.5 stars
It's the story of the making of a horror film in the Colombian jungles, but it's told basically in a second person perspective (unusual enough in its own right, but impressive for a debut author) with some third person exposition as well as court testimony.
Another convention that is ignored is the use of quotation marks when the various characters speak. This is reminiscent of Charles Frazier's novel, Cold Mountain, which never used them in that story, either, yet in this story, it works adding to the tension of the plot of the actor being plucked from obscurity into the starring role in a film that seems unbelievable.
For a reader who doesn't understand all the technicalities of movie making, the descriptions of scenes, film techniques, and other movie situations were enlightening as well.
Because of the perspective it was written, YOU learn about the movie process, YOU become immersed in the world of the Colombian jungles and all that goes on behind the scenes, and YOU are given a front row seat into the mind of the protagonist (the American actor plucked from obscurity) Richard Trent, aka Adrian White.
Overall, a literary novel well worth the read. 4.5 stars
June 1, 2019
"What's the real way to make a horror movie?"
How do you do it, indeed!
I was thoroughly impressed by this ambitious debut novel, and I place it beside Marisha Pessl's Night Film for its candor and daring. What makes We Eat Our Own such a particularly wild ride worth getting invested in is that it's actually inspired by a controversial horror film from 1980 about a group of arrogant, culturally insensitive white people who visit Columbia to "document" a tribe of cannibals. It's called Cannibal Holocaust, and Wilson mentions the film in her acknowledgements.
Wilson raises questions of ethics but not at the expense of her artistic take on storytelling. There are shifting points of view (and the use of the 2nd person is definitely well done), and it's a compelling read I had a hard time putting down.
Honestly, I would encourage those readers who can stomach the movie (it may be the hardest film I've ever watched, no joke) to check it out in conjunction to the novel. The movie is certainly problematic but there's no denying it is art. I honestly may not be the same after seeing it, but it's Kea Wilson's book that is the perfect life-raft for thoroughly examining the complexities of the film—the nature of horror movies, the ethics of filmmaking, the purpose of horror.
How do you do it, indeed!
I was thoroughly impressed by this ambitious debut novel, and I place it beside Marisha Pessl's Night Film for its candor and daring. What makes We Eat Our Own such a particularly wild ride worth getting invested in is that it's actually inspired by a controversial horror film from 1980 about a group of arrogant, culturally insensitive white people who visit Columbia to "document" a tribe of cannibals. It's called Cannibal Holocaust, and Wilson mentions the film in her acknowledgements.
Wilson raises questions of ethics but not at the expense of her artistic take on storytelling. There are shifting points of view (and the use of the 2nd person is definitely well done), and it's a compelling read I had a hard time putting down.
Honestly, I would encourage those readers who can stomach the movie (it may be the hardest film I've ever watched, no joke) to check it out in conjunction to the novel. The movie is certainly problematic but there's no denying it is art. I honestly may not be the same after seeing it, but it's Kea Wilson's book that is the perfect life-raft for thoroughly examining the complexities of the film—the nature of horror movies, the ethics of filmmaking, the purpose of horror.
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