A cynic might argue that it is the extent of our appetite that makes us special in the animal kingdom, but I propose that it is instead the nature of our craving that sets us apart. All living creatures have insatiable hunger and use every tool available to satisfy their impossible needs, whether claws or atom bombs.
For instance, here is a man trying to eat more hot dogs than a Kodiac bear:
Both man and bear can enjoy a glorious hot dog feast. Yet, the man hungers for more: love, respect, tradition, expression, competition, joy, triumph, freedom. Does the Kodiac hunger for more, or are hot dogs enough for the Kodiac? Can the bear know what it means to be victorious, having never (even with its enormous tongue) tasted defeat?
In Kerry Donoghue's beautiful new story "The Hungry," we meet Glory and Buick DeGaulle, a young American couple who have deep, human hungers that can only find expression in shallow, atavistic obsessions.
They are rutting right now on the kitchen floor. The smell of linoleum is strong in their nostrils, and their sweaty bodies press against one another with fever, lust, and hope.
But where are their dreams? Are their dreams as undivided as their genitalia?
Posted by miracle on Tue, 21 Apr 2009 22:15:56 -0400 -- permanent link