The following review essay appeared in the Spring 2015 edition of The Virginia Quarterly Review. A link to the complete article is below. Please leave comments there.
The worst thing about sausage is that it has to be made. We know this because a generation of journalists has infiltrated North America's feedlots and slaughterhouses to expose the apparatus that churns out mass quantities of commodity meat. American agribusiness - wreaking havoc on animals, laborers, consumers, and planet Earth - is generally understood to be irredeemable. Today, enlightened consumers wouldn't be caught dead near a Big Mac. For what it's worth, that's progress.
The reformist lexicon that fuels the outrage resonates with the political right, left, and everyone in between. A libertarian Virginia farmer fumes over the "industrial agriculture complex." An Oxford-educated activist vents that "globalized corporate agriculture" has left us "stuffed and starved." A poet-farmer whose horse-drawn plow breaks up Kentucky soil laments how "the ideal industrial food consumer would be strapped to a table with a tube running from the food factory directly into his or her stomach." Yikes (and yuck).
Such visceral disgust makes one wonder: Just who are these people monopolizing the world's food supply? Indeed, the strangest thing about antiagribusiness angst is that it rages full tilt without a real understanding of the machinations that empower the corporate leviathan. We're routinely hit with dramatic visuals: the slaughterhouses, endless corn and soy fields, obesity charts, deforestation photos, undercover animal-abuse films, and battery-caged birds. But we ignore the sterile office space where the sausage-making playbook is written Two books - Ted Genoways's "The Chain: Farm, Factory, and the Fate of Our Food" and "Christopher Leonard's The Meat Racket: The Secret Takeover of America's Food Business" - begin to fill this gap. Genoways, a contributing writer at Mother Jones (and former editor of this publication), and Leonard, an investigative reporter, offer respective portrayals of Hormel and Tyson Foods that show how the brutality of the abattoir reflects the sangfroid of the boardroom, where cuts of a more metaphorical sort enhance the wealth of salaried executives at the expense of disposable wage workers.