The Cows

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Roxanne: It’s going round all the herds. Some cow from Buxton sent it to me. Concentrate – it’s him – it’s that guy there. Simone (svelte, but nobody’s fool) : You got to be joking, pal. In our world you’re famous. Can’t write a book like Cows and not get noticed by us actual cows. We’re not cultural ignoramuses like sheep – they just watch daytime TV. But we like our Andy Warhol wallpaper and we appreciate the cover art on Pink Floyd’s under-appreciated Atom heart Mother album. Although side two is very self-indulgent, it’s true. I have a vinyl copy. I can't help but find allegory here for our modern life. We in Western society are so numb to violence, so used to being lied to in our media, so used to extremes in our entertainment, that we behave as those living in war-torn nations. There is an apathy and numbness in even the most privileged of us that drives us to further instant dopamine hits from our social media and from our fentanyl-laced heroin. The question COWS raises (the book seems to be cited in all-caps, which is appropriate to the way it shouts its perversions and obscenities) have to do with the place of extreme subject matter in art. In visual art, it’s common for students to become interested in violent or disturbing images, such as photos of car crash victims or medical deformities, and to try to use them in their work. Often it turns out to be unexpectedly difficult to use such images simply because they are so strong. A photograph of a man with Ebola just won’t fit with a collage of other images of Africa. Artists who have tried such experiments have sometimes found they need to work hard to aestheticize the difficult images: Andres Serrano’s beautiful, nearly abstract morgue photographs are an example, and so are some of Joel-Peter Witkin’s elaborately staged, faux-antique photographs of people with various medical conditions. (The intricate aesthetization of the unusual images, as Max Kosloff pointed out years ago, is a way of counterbalancing the subject matter, and somehow making the image into art.) For a contemporary artist it shouldn’t necessarily matter that the resulting artwork is harmonious—the purpose of choosing strong images, after all, is seldom to produce a pleasing or harmonious effect—but somehow it does. Despite the aesthetics of discontinuity and collage instituted by postmodernism, despite a half-century of work done without interest in aesthetic effect, we still find that very strong images don’t work as fine art unless they are elaborately contextualized, made to work aesthetically. It’s a puzzle that we still want our art, in these cases, to be nominally harmonious and coherent. And it’s interesting that given all the pressure contemporary artists face to be avant-garde, difficult, new, politically visible, strong, or persuasive, and in general to stand out against a crazily crowded field—that given all that, it’s interesting that the very strongest images are not more commonly used. This is such a lovely book describing the highs and lows of living on a farm. The animals are central to the story as they should be I loved to hear of their characters and Vinny the dog. The relationship between John and his parents and wider community is also lovely to watch. Disagreement avoidance and reengagement are part of that cycle.

Lulubelle (a decisive cow): Okay, let’s take a vote. Everyone, moo if you want to trample Matthew Stokoe! Another character was a blogger who was extremely badly written. Couldn't decide who she was from one chapter to the next. Was she happy being childless or not? I was confused. I was so excited to start it. I love her. Love her on social media, her articles and documentaries and I read and loved both of her YA novels. So I had HIGH expectations.This book was just so honest and refreshing and I really loved a lot of what was discussed in it. From simple pizza farts (yes, women fart too!) to open discussion about why a woman might not want a baby, I appreciated it all. Tara's story was particularly engrossing due to how it spirals but more so because, for me, how the media treats her and the ever-changing face and mood of the internet's opinion. I loved Cam's blog and her posts which we get to read. I feel like if her blog was a real thing, I'd definitely be a fan. We need more women like Cam int he world for sure. Those who aren't afraid of saying don't use your gender as an excuse, just go and do it and demand what you want until you get it. Stella, while not my favourite character, was an intriguing one to follow as her story showed what it can take for someone to become an online troll. As a celebrity, I'm certain Dawn O' Porter has had to deal with many, many trolls herself and I like how she kind of 'unveiled' the face and mindset of a troll to show they are something to be pitied and not to be scared of. Stella went completely crazy for me and I found myself reeling at times from her decisions but she was certainly entertaining! I'm not normally one to preface a review, or even mention in a review, when a book is not appropriate for certain audiences. (I hope to have duped a few of the weak-stomached into reading, say, Peter Sotos or Pan Pantziarka, because they deserve being read). But I'm going to start this one by saying, quite bluntly, Cows is not for everyone. In fact, Cows may not be for anyone. It is scatological, offensive, disgusting, filled to the brim with sex, violence, and sexual violence, and is probably capable of inciting nausea in those who are perfectly capable of sitting through atrocity footage and watch driving school videos for fun. The Cows is a (at times) funny read about three different women who all end up crossing paths with each other by the end of the book.

This book shows how women are victimised in the workplace for being a woman, shamed for being a woman and generally treated unfairly at times. Few are the gross-out books and movies that properly utilise gore in service of the story. This book is a shining example of how to do it. The wretched set-up is necessary to prime our suspension of disbelief for what is yet to come. Every horrible incident that follows thereafter is a stepping stone on Stephen’s path towards becoming cow Hitler (I don’t know what else to call it). Once he is the one committing the atrocities instead of having them done to him, the gruesome scenes acquire a new timbre; they are stepping stones no more, but milestones in his evolution. That’s right. That’s what all the other little girls will do, so we should do something different, right?’ Reading the blurb for this novel, the first novel for adults by author Dawn O'Porter, I got very excited. It talks about the cow being a piece of meat, born to breed, one of the herd, and compares this to women, saying how they don't have to fall into a stereotype. I expected a slightly subversive novel about feminism. What I found was an easy to read, enjoyable romp through three modern women's lives.As for Stella, I think she's the epitome of what sometimes drives trolling on the internet. Happy people don't usually make it their business to ruin other people's lives. She behaved abominably and selfishly and I wanted to strangle her for it, but she was such a troubled character with so much shit being flung in her direction that it was hard not to feel sorry for her a (very) tiny bit. The ending with her storyline maybe wasn't the vindictive finish I was hoping for, but I guess that is kind of the moral of this story: we, as a society, feel far too comfortable persecuting women for not conforming to society's standards and leaving them at the mercy of mob justice. So I guess in that sense, I felt satisfied. Christine : That’s right, you tell him! Listen, soon-to-be-trampled author-boy, in the first part of your opus you have your extreme-horror slaughterhouse fun with us cows, and then in the second part, you turn us into a fatuous allegory about fascism, where once again we play the mindless puppets. At every turn you debovinise us! We’re just your fodder! The book explores women's sexuality and the right to explore it without comment. It also explores themes of trolling, how women are judged by others and perceived in the media, and the importance of female friendships, as well as women's right to choices over their own fertility and reproduction. These are all themes I think need exploring, whether in fiction or non-fiction, and which interest me. However, I did find O'Porter's book, whilst wishing to banish stereotypes, at times felt like the characters were actually stereotypes themselves. We have the usual guilt of the working mother; the disapproval of parents of the women's lifestyles; and the men in the story also felt slightly one-dimensional. I felt the characters and situations slightly unbelievable and difficult to connect with. Tara becomes the victim of a social media frenzy through an incident that, while may appear extreme, shows how one act can have such a detrimental effect on a person’s life for a very long time. To make matters worse Steven is also forced to deal with a talking, plotting Guernsey. The cow, part of a herd that has escaped the slaughter house and now lives in tunnels under the city streets, along with a herd of other cows, wants to convince Steven to help them stop Cripps by killing him.

Dawn O’ Porter wrote a great post on her own blog in 2012 on the nature of Trolling in which she states that: I have to stop here or I will end up writing a novel - buy this book - follow the life of Steven and Lucy along with the herd of cows living under the city. Dawn O’Porter: the accessibility of her writing style will cement The Cows’ popularity. Photograph: Jenny SharifI liked Tara, and found myself laughing a lot while I was reading about her. I connected with Stella the least. I did feel for her, especially as she seemed so sad, but definitely didn’t fully connect with her.