La carne de René

by Virgilio Piñera

Rene is 20, ripe for education in the cult of flesh, "not of intact, athletic flesh, but of slain meat, truly alive and throbbing like a wound." Rene's father exhorts him to elect the path of suffering, sending the reluctant hero to a school for pain and torture where the doctrine that "knowledge must be beaten into a person" is implemented literally. Pinera, a Cuban, fashions a world that is completely carnal--only sometimes erotic--where slaughterhouses are given names like those of banks ("The Equitable Butchers Shop"), where man himself is meat or flesh destined for the knife and where freedom is achieved only by the willing sacrifice of that flesh.

Genres: Fiction, Literature, Classics, Novels, Horror, Gay, LGBT

256 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1985

About the author

Virgilio Piñera Llera was a Cuban author, playwright, poet, short-story writer, and essayist.
Among his most famous poems are "La isla en peso" (1943), and "La gran puta" (1960). He was a member of the "Origenes" literary group, although he often differed with the conservative views of the group. In the late 1950s he co-founded the literary journal Ciclón. Following a long exile in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Piñera returned to Cuba in 1958, months before Fidel Castro took power.
His work includes essays on literature and literary criticism, several collections of short stories compiled under the title of Cold Tales, a great number of dramatic works, and three novels: La carne de René (Rene's Flesh), Presiones y Diamantes (Pressures and Diamonds), and Las pequeñas maniobras (Small manoeuvres). His work is seen today as a model by new generations of Cuban and Latin American writers. Some believe that his work influenced that of Reinaldo Arenas, who wrote in his memoir Before Night Falls of Piñera's time in Argentina and friendship there with Witold Gombrowicz.
The magazine Unión posthumously published autobiographical writing by Piñera in which he discussed how he concluded he was gay. However, his work can not be reduced to his open discussions on homosexuality in a time when such a topic was taboo, especially in the Spanish Caribbean. Piñera's literary and cultural perspective went beyond sexuality, to express concerns on national and continental identity, philosophical approaches to theater, writing and politics. This focus drew fire from the Spanish American literary establishment of his time, including Cuban poets Cintio Vitier and Roberto Fernandez Retamar, and leaders like Fidel Castro and Che Guevara.
Due to Piñera's social points of view and especially to his homosexuality, he was censured by the revolution, and died without any official recognition. As more of his work has been translated into English, Piñera's work has been rediscovered by American academia as a testimony of 20th century resistance against totalitarian systems.

Reviews

[Glenn Russell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Cuban revolutionary literary artist and poet, Virgilio Piñera, pictured with another kind of Cuban revolutionary.

René’s Flesh by the Cuban poet, playwright, novelist and short story writer Virgilio Piñera (1912—1979). Instead of the Freudian triad of id-ego-superego, with this novel, surely one of the most irreverent novels ever written, we have the triad of meat-butchered-butcher at the butcher shop.

So, for instance, if one were to make a Piñeraian slip as opposed to a Freudian slip, one would say something like “This is one grizzle novel!” instead of “This is one grizzly novel!” Or “I’d really like to sink my teeth into this meaty book.” Or, on a trip to the grocery store: “Excuse me, madam, excuse me, sir, would you mind shifting your slabs of meat to the left so I can walk by?” Thus with meat and nothing but meat on the menu, would anybody care to serve up a slice of life as to how you would make your own Piñeraian slip?

As translator Mark Schafer remarks in his introduction, the word flesh and the word meat are interchangeable in the Spanish language, so anytime we English-speaking readers read “flesh” it can be understood as “meat” and vice versa. Therefore, using this linguistic rule to flesh out (no pun intended) Virgilio Piñera’s vision more completely, the novel’s title could be “Rene’s Meat.” I couldn’t agree more with another reviewer noting how this Cuban novel is not for the faint of heart.

What highlights the tone of the entire work can be seen when René, age twenty, is dropped off by his father at the school where he will receive his education in pain. René meets the school’s Headmaster, a brutish, mean-spirited thug by the name of Mr. Marblo, a large man who looks about fifty and “was as bald as a billiard ball,” – well, my goodness, echoes of another petty tyrant intent on inflicting torment, Mr. Kurtz from Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.

Mr. Marblo points out to René the school’s motto: “Suffer in silence,” and then goes on to speak enthusiastically on how a student must suffer in order to learn and how knowledge must be beaten into a person without that person so much as uttering a moan, death rattle or even an ouch. (Darn, “suffer in silence” could be the motto for every football locker room, boxing club and military boot camp under the sun, not to mention scores of households where physical and emotional abuse abound).

René objects, claiming his doesn’t understand the reason he will be made to suffer in order to learn or why he requires punishment to better solve math problems or memorize history lessons. The Headmaster scoffs and replies he has heard students unload such a long-winded speech a thousand times before.

What irony, Virgilio! Long-winded? René spoke three short sentences. Anyway, Mr. Marblo then delivers his own lengthy speech about the school’s philosophy, the amazing results achieved by their well-tested methods and ends by telling René he will obviously be wearing a uniform.

You have to love this exchange, reminiscent of recruits entering forced military service or prisoners entering prison or inmates corralled into death camps: the authorities set the rules, however harsh or dehumanizing, and those under their charge must obey, no questions asked. Of course, in the spirit of the author’s black humor, this scene could also relate to a youngster’s entering military school or, where nuns still hit kids with rulers, the local parochial school.

When René scrutinizes the faces of those other new students, the neophytes, so called, who, like himself, are about to enter the school’s underground torture chamber, he detects how their faces are completely devoid of worry. Seen through the guise of the author’s penetrating black humor, such lack of worry or concern for one’s health and well-being speaks volumes about the previous training and rigid values these young men have all received from home and family. Ah, family! Suffer in silence, which is a positive spin on the wish to snuff out any sensitivity and the natural inclination we all have for pleasure, affection and intimacy.

As a first step of initiation, the neophytes are accosted by the second-year boys - all fifty, like hunting dogs, fling themselves at the neophytes and begin sniffing them up and down, head to toe. The author’s piercing insight as to how young people living in such a horrific environment are quickly reduced to the basest animal sense, sniffing with one’s nose.

In many respects, I am reminded of the training those youths received in ancient Sparta, the goal being to transform the tenderness of youth into hard, viscous military machines. Bye, bye gentleness and kindness; hello marauding, torture and killing, especially torture and killing, both valued as the ultimate aim of life.

Somewhat thereafter, the school’s professors, all adults, make their entrance. René can see they have truly wretched bodies, bodies he describes as rags and he wonders how men with such rags as bodies can be charged with the cultivation of youth. Good question, René! Observing how an adult’s body, misshapen and in many cases bloated and haggard, is the undeniable, physical evidence of a life turned against itself.

Another diabolical quality of the school is revealed: “spirit” is a meaningless term; all of life is reduced to flesh, body, and an unending human meat market. Is this perhaps the author’s bash against the philosophy of Castro and his Communism? I wouldn’t be surprised since Virgilio Piñera was branded as a pervert and criminal by the Cuban government.

But, but, but . . . the tale takes a decisive turn when René revolts against the school and everything the school represents. And René has an iron will. Predictably, the authorities call him a rebel, a hedonist (ultimate slam made by the guardians of the status quo), a student rebelling not out of pure fear as expected but rebelling out of pure contradiction. Unheard of. The authorities go even further, they label René abnormal and even worse, the most abysmal type: René is an eccentric.

René’s revolt against authority culminates in an absurdist version of the black mass and his immediate expulsion. Once beyond the school’s boundaries and out on his own, the story expands into wider dimensions of absurdist black humor, a black humor with an undeniable bite since René’s world is not that far removed from many features of our own. Again, a book not for the faint of heart. Cuban literary critic Alan Ryan wrote that Virgilio Piñera makes Stephen King look like Dr. Seuss. Truer words were never spoken.

[knig · Rating 3 out of 5]

Pinera was a Grand Guignol fan: I know this not only because thats what Rene’s Flesh effectively is, but also because he says so, on page 151. He also says (but not in this book) that Kafka blew his mind away with the Metamorphoses and also that Jonathan Swift was a cool sort of absurdist. I can’t vouch for the latter (yet).

Rene’s Flesh is like Puff the Magic Dragon: ‘shroomy. Oddballs, situations reductio ad absurdum, a little light S&M, patricide, mutants, look, theres something here for everyone. Pinera is really trying: perhaps he’s not as farfetched as Topor in Joko’s Anniversary, not as au-fait with the ministry of pain as Ann Rice is in Sleeping Beauty, not as macabre as Par Lagerkvist (The Dwarf) and Patrick Susskind (Perfume) in exploring mutoids and flesh respectively, but I’ll cede him this one victory: chocolate.

In a pandemonium of absurdum and hilarity, twenty year old Rene’s father discloses to him that he is a secret agent, whose role is the pursued as well as the pursuer, as he fights with a (nameless dictator) over...a piece of chocolate. Or rather, the right of the people to eat chocolate, and not just the ruling classes. Honestly, I shall never be able to think ‘banana republic’ again. Its chocolate, obviously. Or something sugary. This is in fact what Pinera might have been thinking about in this satirical hysteria: he did, in fact, have the misfortune of living through a number of successive Cuban dictatorships, toppled by revolutionary zealots intent on ‘goodmaking’ before they too lapsed into irretrievable corruption. No sooner did Cuba win it war of independence (very bloody too it was) with Spain in 1898 than Gerardo Machado took the throne. I say this not because he literally did: in fact as a humanist revolutionary he was elected president, but because a little bit later he forgot his election pledges (egalitarianism and economic prosperity for the masses and all that nonsense), took a tight grip on the sugar plantations and effectively ‘monarchised’ himself, a la Napoleonesque. But not before kicking the intelligentsia into touch: you know the drill: forbid this, jail those, torch the others, shut down that, etc and ad infinitum. Pinera suffered throughout, but not as much as when Battista overthrew Machado in 1933 in another revolutionary uprising, in the name of the people, of course, and then proceeded to follow in Machado’s footsteps. The only difference being that this time round, he was a US puppet. So, back to hogging the sugar plantations, etc. Etc.: and this is why I think Pinera’s chocolate revolution, absurd but delightful in the extreme, might have been a nod to current events. In fact, I suspect that by the time Fidel Castro instigated yet another revolution, in 1959, Pinera probably had had enough. Who wouldn’t? Perhaps thats why he emigrated to Argentina for ten years. And wrote all about it under the guise of passionate chocolate wars.

Political element aside, there is a certain amount of focus on, of course, Rene’s flesh. In a very unhealthy way. I don’t say this because of scenes where the whole Freshman year at the Academy of Pain are instructed to lick every inch of Rene’s body from top to toe, in order to soften him up. No. I say this because Renee didn’t like it. At all. In fact, Rene doesn’t seem to want or like anything to do with carnal pleasure (or pain) whatsoever. Sex of any kind (with men, women, or animals) distresses, even disgust him. Good food, especially meat, that might actually give him satisfaction of the flesh, repulses him. Yet, there is also a morbid fascination on his part with things to do with the flesh. But because he is repressed, in mind and body, this fascination can not crystallize into actuality. Which is why we have the mannequins and the portraits, of course. They are effectively the whipping boy for Rene, whose own flesh remains pure and unscathed whilst various life size dolls and portraits of him get a good old seeing to. Literally. As in Dalia and the Doll. (The life size doll which looks like Rene). I really wasn’t sure where all this body angst was coming from: I mean, I’m no stranger to body dismorphia myself (cause thats what Vogue and Cosmo & cie are meant to do, with heroin chic and all that: make sure I know how inadequate I am), but, this really went way beyond any of my own self flagellatory mental masturbations: we are talking serious body image trouble here. I rather suspected anorexia and hastened to Google. Natch. It was homosexuality. Apparently Pinera felt psychologically and physically crucified for his homosexuality in 1950s Cuba, which was more akin to say the European Dark Ages. He was forever struggling and suffering with his identity and intent as a homosexual man, and his biography is sad and harrowing. All of his angst and frustration apparently kept coming out in discord and dissonance between his literary characters as they struggle with connectedness, normalcy and love. I can see this in Rene’s Flesh: the repression is an open, pulsating, festering wound.

But in the end, absurdist tactics, political satire, pouty repressed young Adonis aside, we’re a little thin on character development, and what I call the ‘capture factor’: the one where the author draws me in, hook, line and sinker, and makes me care.

[Brittany Picardi Ruiz · Rating 5 out of 5]

I will just come right out and say it. This is so far the best book I have ever read this year. I redact that statement. If I may be so bold, I will say that this has been one of THE best books I have ever read in my entire 34 years of orbiting around the sun. Too much? Get comfortable, grab a snack or a drink and allow me to begin.

If you have never heard of Rene’s Flesh by Viriglio Piñera, don’t feel bad. I just found out about it a few days ago. Then, I read it and now, I am completely obsessed. Piñera was a huge Cuban writer, among the likes of Reinaldo Arenas, Jose Lézama Lima, and Alejo Carpentier. And yet, I’d never heard of Piñera. Then a few days ago, my neighbor put René’s Flesh in my hands; an exchange because I’d told him about 2666. He said “if you like Bolaño, you’ll love this book.” Despite having my ever-growing stack of books-to-read-and-review, I put my trust in him and I read the book in 24 hours. This book is a fairy tale without magic. There is no magic, but in its absence: pain. Lots of it. The pleasure of pain, the torture of pain, it gave me nightmares from which I hoped to never wake.

René’s Flesh is set in noplace in notime. The place could be any place, the time could be any time. It’s modern: there are buses and cars, telephones and electricity, and yet, the narrative situates itself in a time before this time, a time of butcher shops and provincial villages. Reading it, I was convinced I’d been transposed to the quiet and quaint little town where the Disney Beauty & the Beast was set. I imagined Belle walking through town reading her books. And yet, despite the pastoralia, there emerges the Cult of Flesh: enter René’s world.

Enter a world where carnality reigns.

Enter a world where people worship flesh.

Flesh takes many forms, whether it is the flesh of an animal – meat floods every scene, meat still hanging fresh on a hook, meat cooked every which way – or the flesh of man. René – a man of the most perfect flesh, though hardly muscular or toned, simply beautiful, untainted flesh – on the eve of his twentieth birthday, is set to inherit his father’s position as leader of the Cause. As leader, he will be pursued, and as such, he must train his flesh to endure and enjoy pain. On the eve of his twentieth birthday, his father reveals his fate by exposing his own flesh to his son: his chest is stripped of skin, a large rotting wound; his ear is has a puncture the size of a dime; the soles of his feet have been burned. René, being accustomed to only the greatest of pleasures, wants none of this, but what he wants is irrelevant. This is his fate.

René is quickly shipped off to school, a school of torture. His first lesson: to endure electrocution in perfect silence, albeit an artificial silence insured via a muzzle.

I don’t want to give too much more away. Suffice to say, there is more torture, more flesh, more reader enjoyment.

Reading this book, I wondered why there is such satisfaction in reading about pain and masochism. As I was reading this book, I wondered if maybe my obsession with it had to do with the pain of flesh, but no, no I don’t think one needs to have a history of flesh sabotage in order to want (no, maybe “desire” is a better word, or “lust”) this book. Reminiscent of Sade or Rikki Ducornet, René’s Flesh is sensual and sexual and all kinds of fantasy-dirty without any sex. That, perhaps, is what is most powerful about this book. It tempts you – carnally – without sex itself.

And readers: maybe you haven’t heard of René’s Flesh. Maybe you have too many books to read. But if you make time for René’s Flesh, you will be satisfied in unpredictable ways. It is a book that contains the sate of a gourmet feast, the brief second before the release of ecstasy and a firm slap across your face, all in one.

[Adam · Rating 4 out of 5]

Piñera crafts an odd allegorical novel. A parody of coming of age novels or the novel of education, he has his young man Rene coming to self realization in a very twisted version of our own world, where people are obsessed with eating meat (Piñera was a vegetarian I believe), a school teaches its students to suffer in silence (electrocuting them in chairs with muzzles on), murder is legal, people are paid to be surgically rendered as people’s identical doubles (also everyone seems to have a mannequin), and secret societies fight over the distribution of chocolate. A parade of grotesque characters (Skeleton and Ball of Meat, the king of meat), odd encounters, a surreal dead pan orgy out Marquis de Sade, and general absurdity is the state of affairs in this novel. Resembles very little, except possibly Kobo Abe’s bizarre novels of the seventies (Box Man, Secret Rendezvous) and Burroughs (though more linear). Not for the faint of heart.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a weird one, definitely in a good way. So much feels like realism, but so much is warped. The whole cult of flesh, in service of pain, the pool gets strange and deep fast. I loved the various levels of conflated meanings of meat and flesh. I think the translator handled the fact those aren't the same word in English to preserve that very well. There was still some I didn't grasp, but I greatly enjoyed trying.

[Liam Ostermann]

Probably my best purchase of 2023 - an extremely hard to come by classic - it is my treat for 2023 and I will only read it when I have time to really enjoy it.

Update Ma4 2024 - Started again - loving the novel but have been distracted by other reading so have put aside again to return to when free of interruptions.

[Derian · Rating 5 out of 5]

esta novela se escribio cuando cesar aira tenia 4 años y hace todo lo mismo que el, pero sin robar

[M. Malmierca · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Solo para lectores curiosos"

La carne de René (1952), del escritor cubano Virgilio Piñera (1912-1979 ) es una novela extraña, no apta para todos los públicos y que se podría enfocar desde el ángulo del “absurdo”, aunque no es difícil de leer ya que su prosa no es compleja, los personajes son claros y no se pierde en ningún momento el hilo argumental: un joven apuesto que es perseguido por su padre, sus profesores, una mujer y una asociación secreta, para que sea consciente de la importancia de su carne, de su cuerpo y de los que él intenta huir constantemente. Expone la dicotomía placer/dolor de la carne (entre otra muchas), con todo lo que esto conlleva a lo largo de la historia: religión, sexo, enfermedad, edad, alimentación, etc. etc.

Como ya he dicho no encuentro difícil su lectura y he apreciado, además, cierto toque de humor en las situaciones surrealistas que nos presenta. Lo que me resulta extremadamente complicado para el lector medio es entender que pretende decirnos el autor con esta historia, su significado. Parece claro su carácter metafórico o, más bien, alegórico y probablemente sea necesario para su entera comprensión profundizar en la personalidad del autor, en el momento en la que fue escrita o en las propias circunstancias de su país.

En cualquier caso, solo para lectores curiosos.

[Vicente Monroy · Rating 5 out of 5]

el Videodrome de la literatura universal, durante 150 páginas no se suceden tres líneas sin que se haga posible algo que parecía imposible

[Diany✨ · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.25⭐

Este libro me sorprendió muchísimo, me ha parecido una forma muy original de explorar el autodescubrimiento, conocerse a sí mismo y encontrar nuestra senda.

Piñera nos conduce por la juventud de René, un joven con la carne intacta, quien es empujado por su padre a la vida del servicio del dolor, la cual lo llevará a ser marcado, cosa que a toda costa desea evitar. Otro sendero lo transportará por el sendero de la lujuria, donde será tentado a otro tipo de placeres carnales.

Los personajes son grises, tienen propósitos claros y quieren transformar a René para sus propios fines.René debe cuestionarse qué camino escoger para su vida, toda la trama tiene un halo grotesco y macabro, con escenas exageradas y un poco fantasiosas, pero que cumplen muy bien su cometido. También tiene cierto contexto político y reflexiones sobre quiénes ejercen el poder y los motivos que los guían.

Me gustaría que fuese un libro más conocido, pues me parece una obra cubana importante, ojalá llegue a más lectores.

[лаура (lau) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Distopía y aprendizaje! me encantó esta novela del gran Virgilio Piñera, la incesante repetición de la palabra “carne”, usada en tono irrisorio y grotesco. La dualidad entre el placer y el dolor que experimenta el cuerpo, en un règimen de violencia estandarizada, es una crítica política-social. Comparto la opinión que no es apta para todo lector, es una obra indudablemente ambigua, donde la carne toma un carácter alegòrico.

[aya · Rating 2 out of 5]

I really wanted to like this book. I like how strange and dark the premise of the novel is, and the idea of a cult of the flesh seemed to promise a unique novel of the senses, something that would be visceral and fully felt. However, the work felt one-dimensional almost the whole way through. It read like a political allegory, even though I don't believe it was. The characters, although totally unique, seemed flat and unbelievable--not because they were so absurd, but because they did not seem to have any richness or humanity. Perhaps, though, a problem with translation?

[Elia Pérez · Rating 5 out of 5]

Muuuuy buen libro, un adelantado a su época Piñera :) se nota mucho el Intertexto de la filosofía existencialista de sartre etc y sirve bien para pensar al estado nación como espacio biopolítico de violencia y disciplinamiento. Es el aprendizaje de lo literal, reflexionando sobre la identidad individual que se resiste a formar parte de las instancias opresoras

[Tyrone Aragón · Rating 4 out of 5]

Absolutamente perturbador. Carne carne carne carne carne carne... en todas sus representaciones naturales y metafísicas. René, un joven de 20 años es conducido por su padre a una escuela donde te enseñan El sufrimiento de la carne, pues en su familia existe una herencia para dedicar el cuerpo a esta Causa. Y en el propio camino de René están Los placeres de la carne, los que llegan de continuo por la Señora Pérez y sus amigos. Pasajes totalmente escalofriantes. A veces no se sabe qué diablos está leyendo uno. Si Dorian Gray sufría la corrupción a través del retrato, René lo hace a través de la carne. Me ha gustado muchísimo. Estoy seguro que es, junto con El siglo de las luces de Carpentier y Paradiso, de Lezama Lima, una novela monumental de la narrativa latinoamericana.

[Gala · Rating 3 out of 5]

tiene una idea muy interesante sobre la "carne" (y lo pongo entre comillas porque la novela justamente juega con varios significados distintos para la misma palabra). tiene mucho humor y escenas que no te olvidás pero creo que después de un inicio excelente se pierde un poco y se hace algo confusa y densa. por lo menos a mí me gustaron mucho más las primeras 70/80 páginas que todo el resto.

[Rika · Rating 2 out of 5]

Entiendo el punto y el fondo, pero a mí se me ha hecho aburrida, repetitiva y excesiva.

[baby · Rating 4 out of 5]

most of the way through rene’s flesh i wrote to a friend “i’m reading one of the strangest books ive ever encountered. ive almost finished it in three days so id say im rather captivated although propelled more by bewildered curiosity as to What The Fuck the text is than anything else.”

i think its good but im not totally sure. piñera might be a singularly true Freak.

[Nathaniel]

??? wtf es esto que acabo de leer

de verdad no sé en absoluto como daría calificación a este libro.

[Azul · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tengo que hacer un ensayo de esto.
Dos palabras: pal pico.
Otra cosa: QUÉ CHUCHA EL FINAL

[Carlos · Rating 1 out of 5]

La verdad es que encontré este libro más que un poco confuso. En ciertas formas me hace recordar a Kafka, pero más a “El castillo” (que no fue de mi agrado) que a “La metamorfosis” (que si lo fue). Sé que me entere de la obra a través de “Desde aceras opuestas: Literatura/cultura gay y lesbiana en Latinoamérica” editada por Dieter Ingenschay, pero fuera de algunos momentos homoeroticos el tema central de la novela parece ser la futilidad de la lucha contra el poder político y al mismo tiempo la futilidad de prescindir de esta lucha. Pero ese resumen no llega a reconocer el estilo único de Piñera y la mezcla de crítica política e social que hace, creo, a la Cuba de su época. Honestamente, no es tanto que me desagrado la obra como que no la entendí. Lo mejor que puedo decir es que por lo menos es posible terminar de leerla, en el sentido que no perdí el hilo de la narración de la misma forma en que lo perdí con “El castillo” de Kafka.

[Santiago Bottaro · Rating 5 out of 5]

La crítica latinoamericana la considera una novela del absurdo, pero fuera de un autor anglosajón, sería una novela de terror gore, y vaya que lo es.
De nuevo la carne, lo carnal, lo mortal, vuelve a mis lecturas, en este caso en forma de culto, de sectas y de conspiración, pero también de ciencia ficción, de surrealismo, de miedo, de placer.
No por nada, Virgilio era considerado el “espíritu santo” del barroquismo cubano del siglo XX, aunque esta novela no tiene nada barroca, por el contrario, es de fácil lectura, entretenida y siempre dejándonos en la curiosidad de querer saber cada vez más. Quiero pensar que la novela se sitúa en Buenos Aires y no en la Habana, por el tema del invierno y la nieve, y por el hecho que Virgilio vivió en la época de su publicación en esa ciudad.
Después haría el cuento La Carne, mucho más carnívora, pero que se sitúa sin duda alguna en las miserias de la revolución.

[melina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Me gustó mucho. Todo el universo alrededor de la carne, tanto en la forma como el contenido, me parece muy interesante y es lo que más me daba ganas de llegar al final. Hay mucha metáfora, quizás mucha clave que desmarañar (no tengo mucho conocimiento sobre el contexto de la producción del libro, pero supongo que puede ser una línea de análisis posible, no así la única), pero creo que se disfruta mucho más pensar la novela sin intentar descubrir qué es el chocolate y qué es esto o aquello. Lo más claro del libro quizás sea que hay solo dos caminos para René: el placer o el dolor. ¿Hay escapatoria o no?
Si debo admitir que se me hizo bastante larga y un toque densa cerca del final, pero muy entretenida e interesantísima la propuesta. Super recomiendo.

[Luis Alv · Rating 5 out of 5]

Maravillosa novela. Asombrosa.

La tragedia de la carne nos persigue a todos y nadie escapa de esa batalla. Decidir en qué frente luchar es la cuestión, pero todos estamos metidos en ella.

En esta novela entran muchas cosas en juego: la condena paterna, la seguridad insegura, qué es la voluntad, la seguridad sobre el no querer ser. No sé qué má spueda contar.

Esto es un descenso, como el cuchillo que penetra en los bisteces de la carnicería, y capitulo a capítulo entra más hondo en la carne, hasta que corta a René, y deja de ser parte del músculo para ser un bistec por sí mismo, un único bistec, en su punto, marinada y con la tensión justa.

[Ryan Grinas · Rating 5 out of 5]

A superbly written work of fiction! Blending horror, with elements of H. P. Lovecraft and Franz Kafka, René’s Flesh is masterful in it’s execution. Gripping, immersive and challenging, I highly recommend this book!

[Esteban Carrera · Rating 5 out of 5]

No es una novela para todos pero trabaja la figura del doble de una forma magistral. Además, el uso de lo grotesco la eleva en niveles simbólicos a un plano casi poético. Definitivamente una distopía altamente erótica que vale la pena leer.

[Acacia · Rating 3 out of 5]

i finished it today, about a guy named rene and ... his flesh

[Jesse · Rating 2 out of 5]

An interesting concept with very poor execution.

[Borja Buzón · Rating 2 out of 5]

Excesivamente bizarro para mí, aunque es de apreciar la crítica social bajo el simbolismo de la obra.

[Jimmy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Really weird and fun. Super interesting and out there

[Giovani BP · Rating 4 out of 5]

Este libro es surrealista, siento que es más que sobre la carne, pero no sé sobre qué. Erótico y grotesco a la vez.