There’s a motivated serial killer at work within the pages of Swine — a methodical, surgical sociopath whose distaste for society’s hypocrisy has reached a fever pitch, leaving law enforcement puzzled at crimes scenes while pondering motives and meaning behind disturbing, artistic murder displays such as human organs stuffed inside a gutted pig. It’s all the handiwork of Jack Webster, who has a bone or two to pick with the world.
“Besides, it wasn’t as if he didn’t care about anyone, which would have made it insurmountably difficult to pretend; he simply didn’t care about the people he was going to murder. No, they were the epitome of what drew mankind into the oblivion of stupidity, plagued with hypocrisy, dragging the earth behind it without a care in the world.”
While the murders are dubbed the Pig Killings for the first two appalling discoveries, the butchering artist of death doesn’t discriminate against using other animals in his work, for victim number three is found with as much darkly dramatic flair, mounted in a hunting shop amidst other taxidermy displays.
“There was no head . . . Well, correction: there was no human head. On top of the body, whose arms ended in stumps around the middle of where the forearm should have been and whose legs ended in stumps around the middle of the calf, sat a mounted impala head.”
The owner of that shop — as well as other hunting and taxidermy stores — is Susan McNeer, who becomes more than a little involved in the murder investigation. Her close involvement in the case is far from customary (despite her business interests in play), courtesy of a far-from-customary cop by the name of Howard Swinton, who is known to wander off the beaten path when it comes to solving cases. But given the officer’s track record, his leash is intentionally left loose.
While Swinton is unhappy about being assigned to the case under the lead of inexperienced and much-younger Wesley Harris, the seasoned officer has no qualms about undermining his “superior,” as well as standard procedures, for he discusses all the crime scene details with Susan, who — by the way — just might be sleeping with the Pig Killer.
This novel makes you think in unexpected ways. Thoughts are provoked on the surface by creative and often cringy plot elements, and questions take root far below the surface — on a lingering level — that can grow enough to bloom into full-blown internal arguments. There’s timely references to Orwell’s Animal Farm, coupled with compelling conversation on survivalism that strongly knocks on Darwin’s door — and all of which seems to serve as admissible evidence in the case of Jack Webster vs. The World.
“Gradually, he began to fancy seeing himself as an intricate artist painting over the diseased ugliness of the world.”
Jack is an intriguing cat. He is nimble, he is quick, with a mind that many will consider sick. He sees himself as an apex predator in a world filled with intellectual inferiors. He’s calculated, purpose-driven, educated, and sophisticated in ways that juxtapose his insidious M.O. Well-versed in classic orchestral music, Jack prefers listening to the soothing strings while performing surgery on his cadavers, seeking the right mood to carve out the right cuts for his cannibalistic appetite. After all, in his words, it’s pure hypocrisy to think that humans should be allowed to consume other animals while not also eating their own kind.
Which brings us to the driving force behind the killings, if not the underlying theme of the novel. And while Randy from Scream tells us that motives became incidental with the millennium, the Swine murders are unmistakably motive-driven, fueled by disgust for — and an indictment of — society’s hypocrisy.
“‘I want society to be angry at itself, and I want it to know that I am angry at it.’”
Because of the inventive nature of the murders along with the organ harvesting vibes, at times it felt like wandering into a butcher shop of the macabre, where a grinning Dexter Morgan greets you at the door and quietly closes it behind you, while inside Hannibal Lecter stares at you from behind a lethal array of surgical instruments, and much to your dismay, your name is written boldly on the menu board.
Where Swine differs from your traditional whodunnit is that the reader knows exactly who did it almost immediately, and because the killer is so close to all the major players — including investigators — there’s this satisfying sense of being in the know of some grand dark secret, especially while watching Jack interact with those out of the know, and seeing how he teases them with subtle hints and clever wordplay.
Ms. Vogel is a skilled writer who is capable of conveying profound insights through poetry, vivid imagery, as well as dark metaphor. The narrative reads smoothly and is rather humorous at times — in spite of the grisly context — for most of the Author’s wording breathes with a singular scent of sarcasm.
Funneling to the finale, Swine is a strong, thought-provoking debut novel, replete with compelling concepts, pulsing with profound meaning between the lines. But perhaps most importantly, this book is a bold first statement made by a well-educated young Author, showcasing scary potential for what should be a promising career for years to come.