Pity the Animal

This was so much better than I expected. Usually these indie books praised in publishing circles but mostly unknown outside them I find to be annoying/pretentious/unoriginal, but Pity the Animal is none of these. Hodson managed to capture a certain unnameable atmosphere, the one of commodification, specifically in relation to the female (and male) body. Insomuch as its addressing the topic of a commodified culture it reminded me of Miss Lonelyhearts, but this is more personal (duh, it's non-fiction) and less humorous. It isn't really an essay or a memoir or a philosophical tract, though: it's kind of like a non-fiction Speedboat meets Miss Lonelyhearts meets TS Eliot. It's pretty great.