Horsemen of the Esophagus

It’s rare that I get the opportunity to read a book featuring people I actually know, so of course I was anxious to get my hands on the two books about competitive eating that are coming out in April. Luckily, one of them—Horseman of the Esophagus: Competitive Eating and the Big Fat American Dream by Jason Fagone—came through my office last week and I pounced on it; it was a fun sort of thrill to anticipate how the author would view people and the nature of competitive eating, especially being fairly new to the sport myself, and knowing there was a bit of controversy behind the writing of this book.

Originally titled Insatiable Appetites, the author hit some snags while doing research: the IFOCE viewed his angle as damaging and tried to keep the eaters from talking to him. Eaters, like Tim “Eater X” Janus, who had originally agreed to be interviewed by Fagone were told to stonewall him, and were put in the difficult position of having to decide who to trust. (The IFOCE being hostile towards the publication of this book probably has something to do with the competing book, Eat This Book by Ryan Nerz, being commissioned by them.) Ultimately, Fagone’s original views were softened as he got to know the sport and the competitors better, and the sport and competitors softened towards him.

I really wanted to like this book. It’s not so much that I DIDN’T like it, as much as I felt like he really missed something important at times. I’ve never met Dave “Coondog” O’Karma or Bill “El Wingador” Simmons, two eaters who Fagone focuses the most on, but I’m not sure they are the eaters around which to spin the story of competitive eating. Maybe they are the best eaters around which to spin FAGONE’S story of competitive eating, but I think you get different view from different eaters, and on a lot of counts Coondog and O’Karma have a lot in common. Different in all sorts of ways than Tim, who Fagone also features, though not as prominently. Different than Sonya, who only really gets passing mentions, different than Bertoletti, Joey Chestnut, Crazy Legs, and all sorts of other eater who have completely different stories to tell. To the extent that the eaters were worried that Fagone would try to fit what he experienced into what he set out to prove, they might find their fears realized.

That’s not to say there aren’t some great moments in the book. Getting the whole back story on two eaters I didn’t know that much about was really enlightening in a lot of ways. I loved getting a feel for the day to day, loved the behind the scenes action at Wing Bowl, loved getting a glimpse of how controversies and publicity stunts begin, and there were all kinds of blank spots I had about how the IFOCE is run that were filled in. Fagone didn’t shy away from asking some of the more delicate questions about how the body reacts to competitive eating. Well, maybe I should say he didn’t shy away from ANSWERING those questions. Asking was a different matter. There’s a whole scene where he goes to Japan to meet Kobayashi, spends six hours with him and realizes he doesn’t have anything worthwhile in his notes.

He spins this into a greater conclusion about Kobayashi upholding the mystery being the best thing the eater has going for him, the thing that everyone clings to. But honestly, I was a bit insulted by his journalism skills at times. Could he really not have asked Kobayashi about his training? Though a reasonable conclusion, is it really a fair one after he admits to having not found out anything about him? Fagone chose to put himself in the book; he’s a character, but one we don’t know much about. I found myself wanting him to choose between making himself a whole character—one with a past, a fiancé with a name, motivations and frustrations that the reader cares about and whose judgment they care about—or making himself more of a reporter and removing his emotions from the final book.

Either one would have made a stronger book, though I find myself wishing he had done the former. There was something missing from the pages. The reader doesn’t witness a lot of competitions, doesn’t get behind the scenes with some of the more colorful characters I’ve met, and the author doesn’t ask some important questions and, in the end, doesn’t give the impression that he much enjoyed himself during this year. Perhaps it’s just that the face of competitive eating changes so often that it’s hard to paint an accurate and current picture, or perhaps its that everyone has their own aspects and eaters they find fascinating, so the picture will always be overly subjective.

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