Food, Guilt, and the Craving for Connection in the book Family Meal by Bryan Washington
Sometimes, a book can be so consuming that it feels like it’s not just something you’re reading, but something you’re living. You can’t stop turning the pages, even when the story leaves you feeling uneasy or questioning everything around you. I just finished reading Family Meal by Bryan Washington, a book that has taken me down a dark and introspective path. It’s about a homosexual man spiraling into self-destruction after the death of his boyfriend. His life becomes a series of destructive behaviors—drug abuse, endless sexual encounters, and refusing to eat. As I readed it, I felt like I was not just observing his pain, but sharing it.
There were questions that kept haunting me throughout the book: Are the eating scenes—where he does everything to eat as little as possible or even makes himself throw up—tied to his feelings? Is it his way of suppressing emotions or punishing himself for being alive?
I can’t help but feel like the protagonist’s self-destructive behavior is his way of coping with his grief. His guilt and loss are woven so tightly into every page that it’s hard to breathe without feeling it too. Family Meal is a heavy read—so depressing at times—but I couldn’t stop reading it.
When I finished the book, I felt something unexpected. I felt hungry. Hungry for connection. Hungry for family time. Hungry for self-discovery. A shared meal, as the book shows, can carry so much meaning. It can invite dialogue or repress it. It can bring people together or push them apart. A meal can make us vulnerable, make us open up, make us relax. Or it can leave us hungry, leave our expectations unsatisfied, or leave us full and regretful, exhausted, and bloated.
In the end, a meal says so much.
It says, "I love you."
It says, "I care about you."
Or sometimes, it simply says, "Shut up and eat."
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