In the Media: Book Review of “The Compassionate Carnivore” by Catherine Friend (and an explanation of how a health writer writes)

I own what I believe to be a fairly well-rounded collection of health books. They vary from diet and nutrition, to cookbooks, to scientific studies, to fitness, to mental health and body image, to observations on human health throughout history.

What fascinates me about my collection of several dozen books is that they all share something else in common besides their subject of “health”: the authors all have just the right mix of styles to convey their information in a way that the reader can understand it and change their lifestyles from reading, but also that the reader can enjoy the book.

Today I began to read The Compassionate Carnivore (or, how to keep animals happy, save old Macdonald’s farm, reduce your hoofprint, and still eat meat) by Catherine Friend. Within the first few pages I was already hooked in:

Until Melissa and I started our farm, I’d lived in the city, where I happily wore clean clothes, kept a tidy house, paid no attention to the changing seasons, and was content to completely ignore the fact that my meat used to be an animal’s muscles.

The quickest way to turn vegetarian (or vegan) is to start thinking about what your meat actually is. When I became a strict vegan as a health challenge for an entire month last fall, that was how I dealt with cravings for eggs. I stopped craving eggs very quickly once I really thought about what eggs “are” (don’t think for too long or you won’t be able to make a poached egg for a while). Friend’s description of “meat as animal’s muscles” captures this well without making the consumer feel guilty, which is central to her style.

This book is not a declaration of war against farmers, since I am one. It’s not a plea for everyone to become a vegetarian, since I will never be one.

A key aspect of health writing seems to be a modest amount of humorous self-deprecation. Too little, and the readers will think you’re a tiresomely pompous, self-righteous robot with no understanding of human emotion. Too much, and the readers will think you have the self-esteem of a thirteen-year-old who has just discovered that a) she has spots all over her face, b) boys  aren’t gross after all, and c) she won’t be worthy unless she’s on a diet and loses at least 20 pounds, according to the magazines at the grocery store.

It’s a fine balance between sharing human insecurities and demonstrating personal strength in being the best that we can be, but Friend accommodates for both of these admirably.

This will not be one of those cheerful self-help books that makes change sound so ridiculously easy– “Become a Compassionate Carnivore in Just Ten Days!”- that you feel like a total loser when you’re not able to pull it off. At the other extreme, it’s not intended to be one of those books about factory farming that’s so depressing that you can’t get out of bed for a week.

As any writer knows, the only way they’re going to sell their book is by writing something that’s original and new (but still relatable enough that people will want to read it). There are many books out there about eating organic, local, and mostly plant-based foods, but to my knowledge there aren’t that many books out there that focus on how you can eat healthy (for yourself, the animals, the economy, and the environment) as an avowed meat-eater.

Friend raises awareness and encourages readers by using rhetoric to relate to her readers. She identifies with our own overworked, overwhelming lives and shows us that even though we can’t save everyone and everything in the world, we can still do our bit by making realistic changes.

…and that is how a health writer writes.

All of the above quotes can be found on pages 6-7. The book just keeps getting better from there.