"Tender Is the Flesh" by Agustina Bazterrica

I have always believed that in our capitalist, consumerist society, we devour each other.

- Agustina Bazterrica

May 24, 2025

The power of dystopian fiction lies in its ability to present a hypothetical reality where readers confront uncomfortable possibilities without directly experiencing their consequences. Humankind’s existence has seen the fragility of social structures and the looming threat of totalitarianism or global catastrophes, and dystopian fiction distills these fears into stories that question our values and choices.

Set in a world where a virus has rendered animal meat inedible, Tender Is the Flesh explores the horrifying normalization of human meat consumption. Marcos Tejo, the novel’s protagonist, works at a processing plant that specializes in what is now known as “special meat”—a sanitized term for human flesh. Though the industry repulses him, he remains complicit and trapped by his circumstances. When he is unexpectedly gifted a live “head” (a human bred for consumption), his moral struggle intensifies as he begins to see her as more than just livestock.

Bazterrica masterfully paints a narrative that holds a disturbing mirror to our own reality. The novel’s world may be fictional, but its parallels to modern industrial farming practices are impossible to ignore. By replacing animals with humans, the book forces readers to confront how we justify exploitation under capitalist systems. The use of human bodies for meat, hair for wigs, and medical experimentation all serve as unsettling metaphors for real-world animal treatment to make us question the ethics of systems we often take for granted. Beyond just its philosophical undertones, Tender Is the Flesh also delivers an unnerving plot filled with tension and an astonishing twist (one that won’t be spoiled here but is sure to leave a lasting impression). 

What makes the story even more haunting is how it refuses to provide simple answers. Marcos’ internal conflict of his revulsion toward the industry yet passive participation in it feels painfully authentic. Bazterrica doesn’t offer easy moral binaries; instead, she forces readers to wrestle with uncomfortable questions. At what point do we lose our humanity? How much of morality is dictated by social norms rather than personal conscience? Do repeated atrocities, once normalized, cease to be atrocities at all?

The recent surge in Tender Is the Flesh’s popularity is well-earned. In a time where conversations around consumption, exploitation, and ethical decay are incredibly pressing, the novel compels readers to reflect on the dangers of complacency. This book strategically immersed me in a world where the unthinkable has become mundane and how easily cruelty can be justified.