Tuesday Night Supper Club

Alienation. At the periphery of the solemn communal feast at which the dead tribesman (or -woman) is being ritually dismembered, cooked, and devoured, there are surely those mourners who, this time, would just as soon not partake of the sacred food…but content themselves with the more ordinary grubs, crocodile eggs, pemmican-mash. Joyce Carol Oates / Food Mysteries