I mean, it was “familiar enough in its way”, folk “embarrassed even to be caught keeking in its direction”, and making only “tentative enquiries” about the sausages nearby. The real horror is this: customers have been seeing this meat for days and nobody has said a thing. Not only has she been objectified throughout the entire story, reduced to mere “meat”, but now we see her heartlessly discarded.Īs a ‘twist’ ending, this is perhaps more effective with a general reader than one familiar with horror fiction as it’s a ‘horror’ most of us are likely to have come across before, but there’s a secondary horror to consider here and for me this is where the story has most of its impact. Though her death occurs outside the narrative boundaries of the story we are left with the wife languishing in an alley as food for strays. We are given no details regarding her death, and the shop keeper remains a forever distant and anonymous “he” throughout, but we are left to suppose something sinister due to his emotionless dealings with the meat. And in being kept “beneath the marital bed” as “a wee minding”, these salvaged remains suggest the woman was once the shopkeeper’s wife. The clues are scattered throughout, from the suggestive “carcass” in the opening line to familiar parts like “spinal column”, “neck”, “shoulder” and “ribs”, but it’s “the hair and a strip of tartan ribbon” that really drives the implications home. And though Galloway’s description of the meat may merely disgust us, we are horrified when we fully understand its significance. By the tenth day, flies are landing on it.Īlthough the customers try to ignore the meat, we as readers cannot. With the arrival of the customers we get a sense of movement, people coming and going, buying and taking from two long lists of goods, only for the story to grind to a halt again with the simple declarative “But no one wanted the meat”. The opening sentence lacks any sense of movement, providing a slow, or rather static, starting point. There’s a distinct lack of urgency to the story, and in fact we don’t even come to the meat until it has been hanging for nine days. The meat is a potent lingering presence throughout the story. Indeed, the smell begins to clog the air and even seeps under the door.
We understand the meat’s importance because it provides the title, but we can also tell through the amount of attention Galloway gives it in developing its description “flayed and split down the spinal column”, this “yellowing hulk” turns “leathery and translucent” and though the comparison is made to describe its physical appearance we even get a sense of smell through the simile “like the rind of old cheese”.
By the time we come to the meat it is nine days old, “the edges congested” and it has “turned brown in the air”, providing a sense of disgust that is to permeate the entire story.
There are some wonderfully evocative adjectives, giving us a physical description of the meat that revolts us. Look, in particular, at how the meat is described. Striking, huh? Okay, as horror fans you may have had your suspicions about the meat from the outset, but look at the delivery. (For those unfamiliar with Scottish dialect, “keeking” is looking while a “wee minding” is a small reminder.) Okay, click here and then come back… Have a read first and then I’ll tell you why I love it so much. Coming in at less than 400 words, Janice Galloway’s short story ‘The Meat’ is a very short story indeed, and like McHugh’s ‘Water’ explored last month this is a story that makes every one of its few words count.
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