Eat My Heart Out [Zoe Pilger] on *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. At twenty-three, Ann-Marie is single, broke, and furious, and convinced that. Buy Eat My Heart Out Main by Zoe Pilger (ISBN: ) from Amazon’s Book Store. Everyday low prices and free delivery on eligible orders. Eat My Heart Out Zoe Pilger Serpent’s Tail, pp, £ Ann-Marie is in a state . Not only has the year-old protagonist of Zoe Pilger’s.
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Open Preview See a Problem? Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. Meet ‘s most outrageous, funny and shocking anti-heroine: She’s 23, her life has collapsed, and she’s blaming everyone but herself.
Heartbroken, skint and furious, she’s convinced that love – sweet love! From ne Meet ‘s most outrageous, funny and shocking anti-heroine: From neo-burlesque pop-up strip clubs, to ironic Little Mermaid-themed warehouse parties via ritual worship ceremonies summoning ancient power goddesses, disastrous one night stands with extravagantly unsuitable men, naked cleaning jobs, a forced appearance on Woman’s Hour and baby boomer house parties in Islington, Ann-Marie hurtles through London and life, urged on by Stephanie, who is convinced that if she can save Ann-Marie she’ll rescue an entire generation from the curse of ironic detachment.
Fiercely clever and unapologetically wild, Eat My Heart Out is the satire for our narcissistic, hedonistic, post-post-feminist era. Paperbackpages. Published February 5th by Serpent’s Tail first published December 19th To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up.
To ask other readers questions about Eat My Heart Outplease sign up. Lists with This Book. Apr 28, Jessica Malice rated it liked it. I hated this book but read it really fast. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m filled with rage and quickened.
‘Eat My Heart Out’, by Zoe Pilger | Financial Times
I don’t even know. Because, uh, these things simply don’t make most people behave that way. And when they do contribute in some individuals, there are eatt all kinds of other things involved: Eat My Heart Out has had a [2.
Zoe Pilger is the daughter of serious political journalist John. I’ve been struggling to review this for weeks. This is perhaps my fourth attempt. I’ve read several interviews with the author.
Two awards for Zoe Pilger’s Eat My Heart Out
I kept looking back ouy the book page, hoping that someone would have said enough of the same zow so I didn’t have to bother. They haven’t, but the average rating has been on the slide — it’s currently under 3. The breakthrough was reading Sebastian Horsley’s autobiography Dandy in the Underworld. Before that, I thought my first paragraph possibly the work of a po-faced pedant.
But Horsley had a very fucked-up upbringing, no evident opportunities to make things better before he grew up, and several generations of highly troubled antecedents.
AND he was a real-life media person who did extreme things very similar to Ann-Marie and her friends’ most outlandish ewt frightening behaviour, the sort of stuff even most messed-up people thankfully never experience. Early-twenties characters smear cake and later shit on walls of their accommodation; Horsley, at around the same age, zor smeared shit on himself as some kind of philosophical experiment, but it sounded as though he at least did so in private and cleaned up afterwards.
Zzoe has a long scene in which she, unprovoked, holds a former one-night-stand hostage at knifepoint; Horsley waved a loaded gun around in the presence of prostitutes visiting his flat, playing Russian roulette on himself and on one occasion narrowly missing getting shot by one of the women, who didn’t believe it was loaded.
There are other, less immediately scary, similarities with Horsley’s story, such as characters lacking boundaries around mmy money, and the wealth and low-quality conceptual art of some of the supporting characters. Ann-Marie herself is not well-off and has little idea of a career.
Given that this is meant to be a book about the current generation of teenagers and early twentysomethings, Z. Ann-Marie says she isn’t on Facebook or Twitter, and doesn’t appear to use newer alternatives.
There are a few instances of people taking pictures and making films to post online, ky an eminently satirisable sense that characters might be living their entire lives or creating themselves with an invisible audience in mind is way too abstract or maybe even not there.
There are pre-internet novels which do this better, e.
Two awards for Zoe Pilger’s Eat My Heart Out | Goldsmiths, University of London
It was presented there simply as part of a character’s inner thoughts, but in a satirical novel with the remit of EMHOI was expecting a contemporary version of such stuff, exaggerated, critiqued, made to look ridiculous, whatever, plus more on this highly controversial topic, unintentional mass-experiment of sex-ed via porn. The burlesque scene addresses this in a way, but that’s designed to be public performance — it doesn’t go into the way people feel performative in all kinds of ways, not just sex when they are not designated as a ea, even when they are alone.
The book also, I think, loses out by taking place almost exclusively within its own hyped media goldfish bowl. There are ea in which characters obviously look stupid, but a huge part of critiquing all these tendencies should be the rest of the world’s reaction to them, especially when it’s eye-rolling, boredom or plain incomprehension. I would have liked the book better had it shown some other people reacting negatively to the behaviour of Pilegr and her crowd.
At times it feels like part of the same problem it’s trying to criticise. I was really glad to see this done and I’m sorry to give a low rating to the book because of the other problems with it, when I’ve waited so long to hear this from a source that’s listened to in the press. Allied to this is Z. Pilger’s criticism of the way troubled celebrities are lionised, Amy Winehouse being a lodestone.
I am not sure that the mainstream media as opposed to fanzines or blogs reports these people in a way that actually celebrates what they do. Not long ago I re-read a collection of old music press articles about Richey Manic — an equivalent for some in my own generation – and what was striking was the journalists’ relative neutrality, that he wasn’t made to seem especially weird, though mention was made of how some fans were drawn to him because of his cutting.
It depends so much on the readers’ understanding. The well-adjusted teenager or many older readers would see this as good for not being stigmatising, whilst they already knew for themselves that this wasn’t a good way to be going on, and would possibly be scared on his behalf.
The reason I have more antipathy to a certain strand of feminism is because it does actively celebrate this sort of thing in well-known women, who are presented as martyrs to a cause, and discusses it as an inevitable response to societal pressures rather than looking at individuals and a range of causes which apply to women and men, with a knowledge of relevant psychology. It also downplays the stressful effects the troubled behaviour can have on people around them, including who aren’t to blame for any root causes, and the associated problems it can lead to in normal life.
Feminism often presents itself as addressing vulnerable young women on a serious basis it means to be socially responsible in a way that more trashy or detached publications never seek to but this kind of discussion can make some of them worse than they were before.
But that point didn’t have to be made the way it was in publications like Wurtzel’s. Actions deriving from being extremely miserable are held up by this martyrish feminism as being a female equivalent to the sometimes destructive hedonism or self-focus of creative men.
I would approve of telling young women to go out and have fun or live on their own terms, potentially pissing off those who disapproved. But strongly implying this awful unhappy undiluted destruction is cool and some sort of art in itself, and that those who don’t actively adore you for it are oppressors, or badly informed, is terrible I think for Wurtzel at least, it was self-justification. Pilger repeats one facet of the problem, as male characters are in the end attracted to, not repelled by, Ann-Marie’s behaviour.
Some of the book obviously is ridiculous, but when it’s not ridiculous enough, it sometimes reinforces what it’s against; I think Z. Pilger writes bizarrely enough that she could have created something which didn’t do that, without making a cheesy, conservative morality tale. Her response to it isn’t very well-defined — as in the newspapers, cupcakes are nothing but a shorthand for awareness of it.
I’m not sure what she wants; I’d just like it to be as okay for a woman to say she doesn’t like that stuff as it is for a man to say he doesn’t like sport. Intelligent men are more likely to respect the latter, it’s the boors who are the problem — whereas articulate women active in online feminism get out the pitchforks and torches in response to criticism of girlified design aimed at adults.
The less theory-focused allow more freedom and difference in taste. Altogether and hello and thank you if you’re still reading a frustrating book that contains stuff I’m glad to see in print and other things I wildly disagree with. But at least plenty to talk about. Also the most tiring, nasty thing I’ve read this year, left me wanting to a have another shower and b be really organised, to banish it. A month later, the description of the pig’s head still makes me squirm, though I don’t think that was the point of the book.
Perhaps, though, something about meat and lack of empathy, but in that I’d be repeating another friend I’ve got to stop somewhere It’ll be interesting to see more reviews appearing once it’s published in the States. View all 3 comments. Nov 24, Blair marked it as attempted. Can’t deal with this sort of book in which characters talk and think and act nothing like real people. I know it’s meant to be satire, but Feels like the most annoying bits of How Should a Person Be?
Mar 03, Thom rated it really liked it. Ann-Marie is directionless since dropping out of university. She shares a flat with her gay best friend, a wannabe director, who films her re-enacting famous literary suicides.
So far, the set-up is structurally similar to the standard chick-lit theme of the unlucky-in-love young woman, looking for the right person to come along and help her to get her life on track albeit an unsanitised, druggy version, more ketamine than chardonnay.
Then, the novel goes down the rabbit hole.
During what turns out to be her final shift at the restaurant, she meets Stephanie Haight, an icon of second wave feminism who decides to make Ann-Marie her next project.
What becomes clear is that there is an unbridgeable generation gap separating the two. In one telling scene, Stephanie demands that Ann-Marie take part in zo form of primal scream therapy, chanting the lyrics to Beyonce songs over and over until she has no voice left. When Ann-Marie falls to the floor, exhausted, Stephanie thrusts a pen and paper at her, telling her to write, but no words come.
The blog goes viral, and the pair are invited onto Radio 4, where Stephanie continues to make ex-cathedra statements about the younger generation. Ann-Marie piler anonymous, a bag over her head, a blank slate for the older women to project onto. The problem of how to construct an identity in a world where equality has apparently been achieved hdart crucial for Ann-Marie and her social group. They cling to relics of their childhood, like Disney movies, or adopt hipster affectations, talking in Tao Lin quotes.
Winehouse has become something of a floating signifier onto which characters can project their pigler prejudices, turning her life into a celebration of female creativity and myth-making, or the tragedy of a woman who fell for a man and then negated herself by her determination to stay with him; a post-modern icon for a post-feminist culture.
Ann-Marie picks up identities as it suits her, throwing herself recklessly into them in order to test her boundaries.
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