Eat This Book

Eat This Book (St. Martin's) is the first of the two competitive eating books out this month. The author, Ryan Nerz, was hired by the IFOCE to emcee some competitions and travel for a year with the circuit. With this inside access to interview all the eaters, get behind-the-scenes action for various competitions, and even experience training and competition first hand, Nerz’s book ends up a being a really satisfying read.

I have to acknowledge that I’m a bit biased here. Nerz’s style and approach to writing about the sport closely resembles what Krista and I try to do with our coverage in terms of breadth. The book is divided by chapters dedicated to different eaters and competitions, broken up by chapters that delve into some tougher questions, including the validity of competitive eating as a sport, ethical and health concerns, and the usage (or non-usage) of eating-enhancement supplements (i.e. anti-nausea pills, esophagus relaxers, diuretics, vitamins, etc.), among others. One of my critiques of Horseman of the Esophagus by Jason Fagone (Crown; out at the end of the month), was that he only really focused extensively on two eaters, both of whom reside on the fringe of mainstream eating competitions. Nerz was able to cast a much wider net and get detailed profiles of the LeFevres, Crazy Legs, Don Lerman, Dale Boone, Booker, Hardy, Ed Krachie, and Cookie Jarvis.

I can’t really say what kind of reception Eat This Book will meet outside the established fan base, but I think fans and eaters will really enjoy reading it. Early reviews from the publishing trade magazines were favorable, though Booklist called it “basically a book-length infomercial for the organization and its most famous ‘athletes,’” an accusation which holds some water (though I don’t know too many infomercials that talk frankly about puke and toilet habits, two issues the IFOCE clearly doesn’t want associated with their sponsors). After reading both this book and Horseman of the Esophagus, it’s clear that Fagone’s book is the grittier of the two, the one less likely to cast an entertaining gauze over the events and people he writes about.

But of course, there’s a reason for that. Nerz had access that Fagone was denied, and that access opened Eat This Book to include a wide range of eaters’ perspectives. I mentioned that Fagone didn’t seem like he had a very good time while writing his book, and it’s clear the opposite was true for Nerz. There’s an excitement and joy in his writing that’s palpable and entirely relatable to a big fan. Additionally, you could tell the eaters felt comfortable enough around him to really talk to him. There’s more personal stories about Sonya in there than anywhere else I’ve read, and he managed to talk to Kobayashi about vitamins, training, and his post-competition bathroom rituals. There are several incidents, like Coondog O’Karma trying to sneak into a wing qualifier in a chicken costume, that you get from both perspectives, which is great.

In the end, I’m glad I had both books to read. You need Fagone’s to get a more critical perspective on the day-to-day of competitive eating and its participants, the workings of the IFOCE, and opinions of IFOCE defectors and opponents. You need Nerz’s to understand the range of competitive eaters, the joy the eaters and fans bring to the sport, and the spirit behind why they do what they do.

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