The brief evocation of her childhood before this point conjures an almost fairytale-like atmosphere of love and optimism, peopled with adoring parents and siblings. Gay blames herself, and her suffering is compounded when the boys report their version of events to their peers at school she keeps hers quiet, unable to say anything about it to her family. The first of these hinges on the horrifying rape visited on her as a 12-year-old by her boyfriend and several of his friends. Hunger comprises at least two stories: a partial but more or less linear telling of Gay’s life so far, and a more halting, spiralling description of her everyday experience as a fat woman. People asking those kinds of questions don’t deserve an answer, and yet here Gay has decided to give them one. No doubt Gay is thoroughly sick of being reduced to her body and of enduring constant inquiries, prejudices and criticism, and she has evidently worked hard to make space for herself to talk and write about other things.
Simply leaving the house means navigating a physical and emotional obstacle course. Doctors not only patronise her but routinely refuse her basic care. Shopping for clothes or food, visiting a restaurant or getting on a plane frequently involve a humiliating ordeal.
