An elegant, razor-sharp debut about women's ambitions and appetites—and the truth about having it all.
Outside of a childhood nickname she can't shake, Piglet's rather pleased with how her life's turned out. An up-and-coming cookbook editor at a London publishing house, she's got lovely, loyal friends and a handsome fiancé, Kit, whose rarefied family she actually, most of the time, likes, despite their upper-class eccentricities. One of the many, many things Kit loves about Piglet is the delicious, unfathomably elaborate meals she's always cooking.
But when Kit confesses a horrible betrayal two weeks before they're set to be married, Piglet finds herself suddenly… hungry. The couple decides to move forward with the wedding as planned, but as it nears, and Piglet balances family expectations, pressure at work, and her quest to make the perfect cake, she finds herself increasingly unsettled, behaving in ways even she can't explain. Torn between a life she's always wanted and the ravenousness that comes with not getting what you know you deserve, Piglet is, by the day of her wedding, undone, but also ready to look beyond the lies we sometimes tell ourselves to get by.
A stylish, uncommonly clever novel about the things we want and the things we think we want, Piglet is both an examination of women's sometimes complicated relationship with food and a celebration of the messes life sometimes makes for us.
Lottie Hazell is a writer, contemporary-literature scholar, and board-game designer living in Warwickshire. She holds a PhD in Creative Writing from Loughborough University and her research considers food-writing in twenty-first-century fiction.
Lottie’s first novel, Piglet, will be published by Doubleday (UK) and Henry Holt (US) in early 2024.
Hello? I would like to lodge a complaint. The UK cover of Piglet is a glistening stack of sugary doughnuts, dripping with pastel icing. The US cover is towering, overfilled, juicy burger. Eye-catching, enticing covers.
In Australia, we get... HALF an apple with a fork stuck in it? What the hell?
eating disorder fiction is just so boring. much like having one!
there is nothing new or interesting about disordered eating, which at its core is unable to shake off the embedded falsehood that women should be small or should deny themselves. these stories can try to be new or interesting, but they'll always come off as fatphobic, they'll always tie human worth to appearance, and they'll always feel outdated and overdone.
this is no exception.
this book wanted to be nightbitch + milk fed + exciting times all in one. it wanted to have a big secret but not really, and it wanted to be stylized but only in italicized final paragraphs, and it wanted to be character-driven without the pesky character development. it wanted to empower and liberate through eating, without actually having to reckon with any of the thinking that goes with that. it wanted to be literary and unique, while covering some of the most well-covered topics of all time.
like its protagonist, it wanted a lot and ended up with very little.
bottom line: EDs have taken a lot from me, but they've also given me the chance to write this review without anyone being allowed to get mad at me. so who wins, really.
1.5
------------------ pre-review
warning: reading while hungry
(review to come / thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
This remarkable story is told almost entirely through 1) dialogue and 2) descriptions of food. I think it shouldn't work, but it does. I was rapt. The protagonist's attention to food, her relationship with food, her history of covering for her anorexic sister, the class divides between two families, the ambitions of the characters...it's all there, and much more, revealed to us in conversations and also in menu plans, and the relationships between the characters seem deeply complicated and tangled and human. The details of these lives are revealed to us in a breezy style where there is much left up to me as a reader to infer, or to trust in. Maybe a good word for this book is "deft." It's skillfully told, the author is as skillful at storytelling as the protagonist is at cooking up elaborate meals. The writing and storytelling are perfect for a story that is in one way small in scope and in another way is meant to answer a very big question: "why do we live?"...Good.
First things first, this is not a bad book. So please don't mistake my rating as that interpretation.
I genuinely try to make the distinction between a book being "bad" and just not being compatible with the reader. Reading is very personal so just because a book might not work/be compatible for me doesn't mean it won't be great for others. There are many books for which I constantly have to defend their Goodreads rating lmao ANYWHO... with that disclaimer out of the way let's begin.
From the cover alone [which is amazing and I felt seen as a self-proclaimed foodie and emotional eater] I was SO eager to read. The synopsis also intrigued me. I love stories about weddings and complicated family dynamics, female rage, and seeing people spiral. I legit begged the publisher (thank you Henry Holt) for a free advanced copy. So going into this story, I was the complete opposite of a bad-faith reader- I had all the good faith and intentions one can have!
HOWEVER, the biggest plot device of the novel is the betrayal Piglet's soon-to-be husband did to her which was revealed to her 13 days before the wedding. And it is painful to see EVERY character in the book learn about the betrayal EXCEPT FOR THE READER!!!
YUP! That's right - we never find out what he did. But we commit to over 300 pages of watching her spiral, lash out, and close herself off to her loved ones yet we never find out what he did. Is this fair? You can decide for yourself... but what I do know is that doesn't work for me *she says sadly but also with frustration*
I am curious, nosy, love to eavesdrop, know the behind-the-scenes details, probably could be called a busybody, and is the exact opposite of a ride-or-die companion. I must know where we are riding to and why I HAVE to die!!
So knowing this about myself... I wish I knew the secret would never be revealed because this would have changed my entire reading experience. I probably would have still picked up the book, but I would have viewed it differently.
In other parts of the book, I don't personally feel that I can speak on it too much. It did feel a little unfinished with the mention and alluding to her and her sister's ED/complicated relationship with food and not unpack it more as I assumed we might do.
Also, Piglet is not a likable character. I have no problem reading about unlikeable characters but I struggled to connect to her or find empathy for her which is probably why I was heavily depending on the reveal of the beytral to redeem her character flaws and shed more light into her actions [WHICH SOME WERE UNHINGED!]
However, I did appreciate the food descriptions. I read that the author's background is research in food writing in twenty-first-century fiction and this shines through in the details of the foods. And I actually will be looking to reading more from Lottie. She's a great writer and I enjoyed the structure of the book, I just feel led astray about the lack of reveal. I can understand that maybe it is to prove a point that it doesn't matter but I would have liked to know what he did since it is referenced consistently and abundantly throughout and it is the reason for her spiral.
Maybe I will go higher in my rating... TBD. Others don't seem to care about not knowing the reveal so if you think you'll be one of them, their thoughts might resonate more. But for now, 2.5/5 ... *she says this sadly*
I kept thinking of that old expression “out of the frying pan, into the fire” while reading this novel. It’s rather fitting on a couple of levels. Not only does Piglet seem to be getting herself out of one bad situation and into another, but the food metaphors abound in this book as well. When we meet Piglet, she is engaged to Kit, making the upwardly mobile ascent from middle class life to that of something decidedly more privileged. They have just moved into what will be their first new home together and are preparing to entertain their friends. Naturally, Piglet and Kit are destined for something even finer than either set of parents… or so she believes.
“Piglet’s dinner would not be like her mother’s or her future in-laws’. There would be jazz music, cigarettes smoked on the patio, and a dessert made from one of the new cookbooks she was editing: an espresso semifreddo with warm caramel sauce and glinting shards of praline.”
Just two weeks before the wedding, however, Kit confesses to a shocking betrayal that leaves Piglet stunned. Should she maintain the façade she has so carefully crafted in her own mind as well as in that of friends and family? Will marriage piece them back together, make the relationship more solid as vows are exchanged?
“She imagined their engagement like a bone: previously fractured, now snapped under strain, splintered in two.”
Not only is Piglet reeling from the discovery of Kit’s indiscretion, she is also grappling with a divide that has grown between her and best friend, Margot. Margot, married and soon expecting a child, seems to belong to a whole different world now. That world of young friendships, the sharing of secrets, seems a distant memory.
“A gulf growing between them, stretching wider as Margot’s belly swelled.”
I really liked what author Lottie Hazell set out to do here. There’s some background about Piglet’s prior home life that is slowly revealed. We understand why she wants to escape one life for another, even if we don’t applaud the choice she makes next. It’s easy to judge another’s decisions when we look from the outside, isn’t it? But how else does one learn without blundering along, learning from those choices, and making new ones? It would be nice if someone could hand us the manual on living the right life from the get-go, but if there is one, I’ve yet to see it. So, I don’t judge Piglet, even if I don’t necessarily like her. I found her unraveling fascinating, even if I grew weary of all the marriage talk itself. It’s now up to Piglet whether to tie the knot or escape the fire. You have to find out for yourself how it all plays out if you’re curious.
The plot peaked and plummeted intermittently for me, but that might be because there’s a wedding in the family on the near horizon. I’ve had my fill of musings about vows and preparations now, even if I do love the bride-to-be dearly and wish her nothing but the best. Oh, and there’s a scene here that was eerily like a past, personal experience – it must have happened to others before, but I’ve yet to hear or read about it until this book! I'd give this 3.5 stars if I could. I'd read Hazell again. This is a solid debut.
“With every mouthful, she let herself believe that everything, still, was fine. It would be fine because she could make it so, imbibe it, consume it until it was true. She had eaten her heart out.”
‘She was proud, in a way, that she could still smile as the delicious life she had been savouring turned maggoty in her mouth.’
If you're in the mood for a book that's a mix of drama, humor, and a dash of culinary flair, then Piglet by Lottie Hazell is a must read. A London cookbook editor, affectionately nicknamed Piglet, has her life turned upside down just weeks before her dream wedding. Her fiancé, Kit, drops a bombshell that sends Piglet spiraling. It's a wild ride as she tries to keep it together while obsessing over the perfect wedding.
Piglet's story is relatable, messy, and incredibly human. Hazell does an excellent job of depicting the protagonist's internal struggles with authenticity and humor. You can't help but root for Piglet as she navigates through family drama, friend fallout, and the chaos of wedding planning. The narrative is peppered with lush descriptions of food that will make your mouth water, even as you cringe at some of Piglet's more disastrous moments.
The book is not just about food and weddings. It's a deep dive into themes of ambition, self worth, and the societal pressures women face. But don't worry, it's not all heavy, Hazell's witty writing and the protagonist's sharp observations keep things light and entertaining.
Whether you're looking for a laugh, a cry, or just a good story to get lost in, Piglet delivers. It's like a perfect recipe with just the right ingredients to keep you hooked from start to finish.
Piglet by Lottie Hazell is a Literary Fiction Debut Novel!
The main character, Piglet, has carefully recreated herself around her relationship with Kit, the man she will be marrying in 98 days.
She has a new home in one of the best areas, a wonderful job as a cookbook editor, and prepares great meals served at effortless dinner parties. Then, thirteen days before the perfectly planned wedding, her loving and caring fiancé, Kit, tells Piglet something that quietly devastates her...
Piglet is a story that won me over quickly and I swallowed it whole in one afternoon. Less than 300 pages and not quite 8 hours made this a perfect choice as an immersion read. The audiobook narrated by Rebecca Hinds was my preference, but either format will deliver a great experience.
There are many pieces and parts to Piglet's story. We learn about her past growing up, the life she carefully constructs with Kit, and her present state as she begins to consume Kit's shocking news. Piglet's pain is palpable as she envisions her dream fading away.
The descriptions of the many delicious dishes add flavor to a story that draws unique comparisons between living life and following recipes. This story has an engaging writing style, a diverse selection of likable and not-so-likable characters, and storytelling that's creative, original, and different. It's the type of story you keep thinking about long after finishing it.
If you enjoy a great character study with interesting wordplay, Piglet is a satisfying option I highly recommend!
5⭐
Thank you to NetGalley, Henry Holt and Co., Macmillan Audio, and Lottie Hazell for a DRC and an ALC of this book through NetGalley. It has been a pleasure to give my honest and voluntary review.
A very impressive debut about the female strife for agency: In a twist on The Vegetarian, we meet a protagonist who longs to adhere to societal standards, until she can't keep up the facade anymore. Still haunted by her childhood nickname, Piglet, an unusually tall woman with glasses, is about to marry Kit, a well-off man from a higher social class. They move into a house, they entertain guestes, Piglet is well-regarded as an assistant-editor for cook books. Her life is Insta-appropriate, and Piglet is acceptable as a woman: The man has greater means and higher standing, she is successful, but not too successful, she is about to become someone's wife, as her father expects. In her quest to be enough, Piglet has everything under control - and then she doesn't.
Only days before their marriage ceremony, Kit confesses that he betrayed her - and we never learn what exactly happened, because it doesn't matter. Kit's behavior is a mere catalyst that lays bare that Piglet has been betraying herself all along by not questioning her desires and by not putting her emotions into action - instead, she aimed to keep up appearances to avoid shame, a shame that society bestows upon women who defy expectations in order to do whatever the hell they want: These women are not called passionate (like men in these situations), they are called egotistical, shrill and bitchy. Piglet does not want to be the bitch, she wants to be the good girl, but the price she is paying is getting higher and higher...
As a coping mechanism, Piglet resorts to over-eating. Eating disorders do not only run in her family, but these behaviors are often a way to exert control over the body when agency is denied in other areas. And here, Hazell does something very smart: She employs luscious, vivid, detailed descriptions of food, which tempt readers to overlook that Piglet is at the same time destroying herself: The over-indulgence in what appears to be the only available form of pleasure is self-harm. This is the disturbing core of the story: Piglet has internalized toxic expectations, and to rebel, she harms herself. Her real desires, which she seems almost unable to express, are compromised by what she is told she should desire. And of course, female desire laid bare leads to shame, hence the nickname.
Class mobility plays a large role here, but the story underlines how what is expected from Piglet is the same in her working class family and Kit's upper class environment: Misogyny does not discriminate. And I loved how Hazell introduces female solidarity as a possible way out (an aspect that real-world feminism struggles to put into action): It's Piglet's pregnant friend who tells her that she deserves better, that she is not forced to play the game, and that there should be no shame in claiming her wants. What propels the story forward is the question whether Piglet will be able to stand up for herself, which, under the circumstances, would be no small feat.
Hazell's writing is delicious (haha, sorry) and I enjoyed the subtle nuances of the story that do an excellent job in depicting a concept we need to talk about more: Toxic feminity, the internalization of harmful expectations that leads to decisions and actions that uphold the patriarchy. At the same time, the novel offers an intriguing plot and is just fun to read. Let's see whether it will get some nominations for literary prizes, as it should.
Devoured this book in almost one sitting, as if I was Piglet herself, sitting at a table having ordered too much food for one person and yet eating it all anyway.
I was a little dubious at first. I almost always read books totally cold, knowing nothing going in. But sometimes I will check Goodreads after a chapter or two to see what I'm getting into and decide if it's worth it. I checked in on this book because, well, Piglet was annoying. Piglet had the absolute Instagram facade life of a 20-something that feels like it's all surface and no depth and I wasn't sure I would care about a character like that. But, turns out, that is the whole point! This is exactly what Hazell is doing, she is setting you into Piglet's life and then, happily, totally dismantling it. Piglet gets some devastating news (the details are never given) and the entire facade begins to crack.
There is, of course, her name, which we learn right away no one calls her, this one bestowed by her family thanks to her childhood habit of overeating. It is such a sneaky little move. Because it tells you there is something very old and pretty messed up in Piglet's past, something that somehow she and everyone in her adult life has accepted as normal. It makes you wonder. And when you do meet Piglet's family, just absolute perfection. Well they're not, they're awful, but Hazell is perfection. They are so beautifully drawn, you can see immediately where Piglet has come from, why she ran away from it, and how this sense of self-importance is such an important tool for her to keep a distance between herself and her family.
There is some wonderful food writing in this book. (I laughed out loud when on the author page at the very end it notes that Hazell has done academic research on food writing in 21st century fiction.) Food everywhere. This is not an eating disorder book, Piglet doesn't have that. What she does have is a total lack of coping mechanisms and a feeling of safety and control in food. She loves food--she works at a cookbook publisher--and she loves making food for people, she always goes a little overboard. But Piglet's rebellions here are in stark contrast to the way she likes to present herself, as tasteful, talented hostess and chef. It is quite different to sit down at a chain restaurant and order all 7 of the burgers on their menu. Just for yourself.
This is such a smart book because, well, it feels like you have met a lot of Piglets before. Or maybe you haven't met them, maybe you just follow them on Instagram. It's understandable how Piglet got herself into this situation, especially once you know how she grew up. She has moved up a class or two, she has discovered a world bigger than the one she came from, and her ability to fit in there and present herself as a part of that other world has become a core of her identity. It has subsumed who she is as a person so that she has focused entirely on that presentation of self instead of actual self. And it's a brilliant book in that it doesn't have her family step in at the end to help lift her back up. Her friends do not immediately make everything better. That is the stuff of stories and Hazell is much more focused on the stuff of real life.
There is plenty of juicy drama here, never fear. Piglet is ambitious and we start the novel in the countdown towards her wedding, so of course she is in high gear and it is the absolute worst time for it all to fall apart. The better for us.
It gets just a little too on the nose at the end, telling instead of showing, but otherwise truly a joy. Just a delightful train wreck of self-sabotage leading to self-awareness. My very favorite plot arc, I think. So happy to have my first Best Book of 2024.
It’s 98 days until Piglet marries Kit, she’s a WTB (wife to be) and a homeowner- in Oxford no less. Piglet takes her food very seriously and is likely to judge the contents of your supermarket trolley or your lunch order. Is her marriage to Kit and his upmarket family a chance to reinvent herself from her more humble family origins, whence came her name? However, when something looks too good to be true, it’s exactly that, as it may seem to glitter like gold when it’s actually fools gold. The story is told as a countdown to the wedding of the year and wedded bliss???
What a clever story which is so well written and I really like the way that the author has chosen to tell this thought provoking tale. There’s plenty to keep you interested in this story of fractured lives that makes you question what is real and genuine and what is superficial. Add in lies and betrayal , greed, desperation to fit in then you have a compelling read. It’s a very good character study and I don’t think it matters whether you like Piglet or not as you are going on a journey of self discovery with her. Her friend Margot is extremely likeable as is Piglet’s sister Franny (aka Banana) and her parents who are perfectly ordinary but so decent versus Kit’s parents Richard and Cecilia - what a contrast!
At times it’s darkly funny, there’s plenty of drama at several junctures of the plot especially the morning of the wedding and the actual event. You wouldn’t think it possible for the construction of patisserie to be so tense - I could scarcely breathe!!! There’s a bombshell or two, one of which is never revealed although you can guess, I like the way that Piglets obsession with food is used as a metaphor for her life and the situations she finds herself in. I think I’d eat my way out of some of them too especially if Piglet’s cooking! At the end of each chapter is a very revealing italiced sentence or two which gives pause for reflection.
Overall, I really enjoy this book as it’s different, it makes excellent points and has you salivating along the way.
With thanks to NetGalley and especially to Random House UK, Transworld for the much appreciated arc in return for an honest review.
'It's just greed,' he said, his eyes averted to the ceiling. 'What is it about you and more, more, more?'
This is a smart book on the emotional valences of the inter-related concepts of food, eating, weight and bodies, especially gendered bodies. Piglet has been given this nickname by her family since she was a teenager - but, significantly, they don't understand her behaviour that led to this naming and the damning label itself has stuck. That her fiancé uses it is a red flag if I ever heard one.
Hazell takes an expansive look at the cultural nuances of food: from the way it negotiates class and social positioning (Piglet shudders at the memory of childhood Viennetta, and now only shops at Waitrose for elaborate fancy ingredients), to the still-there pressures on, especially, femininity, whether through the idea of women as the source of nourishment for the family, or the related positions of body size and weight.
But what I especially like is that this goes further in exploring and exposing the sort of 'food' words we use for other concepts: the idea of being 'greedy' doesn't only apply to food but is also used of women who want and expect 'more' from their life (men tend to be called 'ambitious', 'energetic', 'dynamic' - rarely 'greedy' in this context). Similarly, food metaphors abound in terms like having an 'appetite' for life, in being 'satisfied' or not, in having a 'hunger' for love or approval, in giving or receiving physical, emotional and spiritual 'nourishment'.
Piglet's journey is probably fairly predictable and, at times, feels perhaps a little under-written: the 'secret' of Kit's which puts their marriage in jeopardy is never revealed, for example, for no good reason I can see. But the wedding day is brilliantly done from the struggle over the wedding dress to the denouement of the reception which ends in Piglet finally reclaiming her own name, Pippa.
Ultimately, this is a story about how something as natural as eating has become so twisted, freighted and pressurised, whether though the capitalist system which fetishises absurdly priced cuts of meat and fish while growing numbers of people are reduced to using foodbanks just to survive, or through the way culture has turned food into a battleground for so many women (and, increasingly, men) that signifies issues around body image, confidence, agency, control and self-harm.
This started as a part of Hazell's PhD project but it is an accessible, funny, spirited exposé of just how dysfunctional we have become in relation to an essential process of life.
Less than two weeks before their marriage, Piglets fiancé confesses to a sexual indiscretion. So now what? Everything is planned, paid for and all arrangements for the wedding finalized.
This is Piglets story, how she received her nickname, and how she got from there to here, a life out of control. What does she decide to do? This is a first novel, well done, showing how what we perceive our life should be may not be the way it actually is. Outside appearances, against inner turmoil. Also, women’s often contentious struggle with food, body image. Sometimes so much is expected from us that it is easier to just go along, ignore the little voice that tells us we are going the wrong way. Which way does Piglet go?
Piglet is an impressive and propulsive debut novel following a woman who, after her husband-to-be reveals a shocking betrayal 2 weeks before their wedding, is forced on a journey of hungry self-revelation.
Piglet is a tale of simmering female rage, delving into the life of a woman torn between the things she wants in life and the things she thinks she wants. The novel follows the protagonist Piglet, a childhood-nickname in place of her real name, in the lead-up to her wedding as she attempts to balance the wedding organisation, family expectations, work pressure, and her complicated relationship with food.
The novel is led by food, and the exploration of food is really where it shines. Many pages are devoted to decadent descriptions of cooking food, eating food, shopping for food, all of which largely serve as an allegory (particularly towards the end of the novel) for Piglet’s obsession with perfection and the crutch she leans on when feeling like her life is spiralling out of control.
With perfectly-built tension throughout, the novel also explores the spectacle of a wedding and all its esoteric complexities (bringing to mind Jia Tolentino's essay about the wedding industrial complex in her 2019 collection Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion), and the tensions created from class disparities in a relationship and two different families coming together.
Piglet (the character) is unlikeable at times but her deep characterisation allows you to understand her, which is one of the things that made the novel so compelling for me. Here's a woman who's been told to want more from life, but then is criticised for wanting more. Piglet is a character you can’t stand at the start, but by the end of the novel you’re left just wanting to reassure her that everything will be ok.
Thank you Penguin UK / Doubleday for the arc and the amazing PR package! Piglet is out in the UK on 25th January - so make sure you grab a copy to satiate your appetite.
Some things you request for the title. Between the title and the cover, I was already intrigued. While you may find Piglet an interesting nickname choice, oftentimes in Asian culture, children are nicknamed choice things like Fatty. See The Brothers Sun.
Classicism exists everywhere, but there is a particular brand of it that exists in the UK. Piglet is from a very middle class family, and is marrying into Kit's family, which is decidedly richer. Yes, there's betrayal. Yes, her stress is through the roof. I'm sure you can guess why she was called Piglet and how she recedes into this downward spiral. I tend to enjoy a descent into the unhinged, and I definitely enjoyed this.
It’s me, your Uber Eats driver, making a delivery run to OUTLIER ISLAND…!
This may well have been the best book in the world. I honestly wouldn’t know because I found it SO cringey, well beyond the cringe level I can tolerate, cringey enough that I’d practically shelve it under horror. As a result, I unfortunately had to read it at the pace of a person running over hot coals. I was like a Dominos pizza delivery driver warned that if I missed another 30-minute delivery deadline, I’d be fired. And my pizza delivery job was the only job left in my county. And my rent was already overdue.
I normally love cooking, and for me this book read like a crime against cooking, and eating, and food, and my stomach. There are enough things in life already to cause a stomach ache and sadly I am not willing to add books to that list. Books are practically the only thing NOT on that list. I need to keep it that way.
Oh, and I very rarely say this of a book, but I also forgot to mention that I hated everyone and very nearly completely did not care about any of it. It was just a very very very very … overdone example of using food and eating and hunger as metaphor. It was the Doritos Locos Tacos of metaphors.
EDITED TO ADD - I also had to come back here and share - I don’t really want to get into this too much, but as a mental health professional who has worked with trauma survivors who often struggle with eating disorders and self-harming behavior - something about the use of binge eating in this book as a kind of metaphor really rubbed me the wrong way. I am surprised nobody has mentioned this. These are behaviors and symptoms that cause people a lot of suffering and distress, and it seemed somehow minimizing to employ them in this particular story. And like, for what, honestly? Like what was the point? - the metaphor seemed lazily used for shock value or something. And, the way in which food, cooking, and eating were used as metaphor also seemed very inconsistent throughout, like major issues in meaningful worldbuilding here.
I am SO SO SORRY! There are many other educated and admiring and lovely reviews of this book for you to … relish? 🤢
a story that follows "piglet", a nickname given to the unnamed protagonist. outside, her life is picturesque as a successful cookbook editor about to get married to the love of her life. hazell's strong debut novel follows her unraveling in the days leading up to the wedding after she learns of her fiancé's secret. throughout the book, she is at the precipice of her breaking point. i was so stressed during the entirety of the book, especially in the chapters building an unsettling crescendo to the wedding.
hazell writes piglet in a way that feels like a close and personal connection is being forged with the reader. her writing is compelling and i ended up reading this in one go. the descriptions of food made my mouth water and i had a gigantic meal after i finished reading! so excited to see what hazell publishes after this. i definitely...ate this one up (pun intended).
[3.25] I was pulled right into this very original allegorical novel about a cookbook editor and her upcoming wedding. The food descriptions are out of this world. For a while, I was on the edge of my seat. But the premise was too wobbly to sustain itself and by the end I lost interest. There was so much vibrant specificity with food and Piglet's hunger but leaving her relationship in the shadows didn't work for me.
“How do you tell people, when the invitations have been sent, the crème pâtissière made, that the fullness of your life has been a pretense; your pleasures, you realize, posture?”
Reading Piglet, I found myself stunned by the amount of tension I could feel over the construction of a wedding dessert. Lottie Hazell is absurdly talented, manufacturing suspense and concern in places one would not expect to find it.
Piglet is subtle in its communication, but it makes a thunderous impact. It examines a woman’s complicated relationship with food, her body, her family, and, much to her surprise, her fiancé. It deftly tackles the bridge between social classes and illuminates ingrained, misogynistic gender expectations, demonstrating it all so well within the narrative, instead of demanding we understand it. I loved how deeply specific the intention was and how quietly it was all conveyed.
As Piglet opened, I was intrigued, but quickly discovered that the main character was not especially likable. A person does not need to be likable for me to feel for them, though, and an author who makes me experience the heartbreak, emptiness, embarrassment, and agonizing abandonment their unlikable character experiences is one I will fiercely sing the praises of.
With such a degrading childhood nickname, we know immediately that Piglet has, in some way, suffered, that she has now chosen a life that she believes will eradicate the shame of that suffering. Her actions and experiences after the revelation of Kit’s betrayal illustrate the magnitude of her hidden humiliation. What’s interesting is that as we watch Piglet unravel, we do not actually know what Kit did. We can surmise, of course, but it isn’t clearly communicated. Her devastation, however, is intense and apparent. Despite my ignorance of Kit’s crime, Piglet’s indignation always felt justified. He had hurt her and that pain was profoundly felt throughout the novel. Sadly, Piglet was not well supported by those around her, which exacerbated her loneliness, and reinforced her commitment to the lie her life had become.
I don’t understand how the author succeeded in this, how she made me hurt so deeply with a story largely consisting of detailed descriptions of food. Lottie Hazell cooked up an artful tale that felt achingly honest in its portrayal. It made me terribly sad for the Piglets of the world who have given up so much of their identity just to cling to an illusion, not recognizing the fragility of it all. The brilliance of this novel is revealed in its slow shattering, as the reader experiences the pain of every little broken shard embedded in their skin alongside the titular character.
I am immensely grateful to Henry Holt Books for my copy. All opinions are my own.
When Piglet’s fiancé Kit spills the beans THIRTEEN DAYS before their wedding about a dalliance, the life she has so carefully curated may come crumbling down upon her like a poorly constructed croquembouche. I mean ….
“How do you tell people, when the invitations have been sent, the crème patisserie made, that the fullness of your life has been a pretense, your pleasures, you realise, posture?”
Well if you’re Piglet you lean into two all beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun while you figure things out.
This has a terribly low Goodreads rating, but I ate it right up (hyuck hyuck) in one afternoon. The story behind Piglet’s nickname made me have an actual human feeling, the meal prep had me salivating (in both good and pretty-vomity ways, depending on the circumstances). The use of food and manner of eating to differentiate between the two families’ classes brilliant. And the will she or won’t she all the up to the very end was chef’s kiss.
Literary food addiction. What would Dr. Now say????
Much like ‘Piglet’s’ approach (or hopes) for life, this book was sadly “all show, no tell”.
Deliciously descriptive food writing (mainly when detailing the; preparation, ingredients and actual cooking process I should add, and NOT the bingeing sessions poor Piglet gorged herself on) aside, the actual content was wholly unsatisfying.
Not only is there no resolution to the main crux (or crux’s, but I’ll get on to that later) of the narrative -which yes you could argue “is it really necessary to know what he did?”, which I would then counter argue with “well, if you’re going to write in a specific way, that continually builds tension (see those italicised omniscient pre chapter paragraphs for ref), as well as constantly have Piglet’s interior narrative reference this clearly “life altering” event, then yes, I think we should be given an answer”, the characters were also utterly detestable to read -even Piglet herself, who felt so far removed from not only her life, but her friends and family too, that I really couldn’t care less what happened to her.
OOOOPH
Personally, I found out main protagonist judgmental, whinny and dare I say it, the cause of many of her own downfalls (not including whatever happened with/to Kit ofc, mainly as we don’t know, and I don’t want to speculate or blame HER for something HE clearly ((although never disclosed)) did).
The idea of describing Piglet as being “ravenous for more” -aside from her physical actions (bingeing -which I didn’t feel were handled, or at least well enough explained), left very little to the imagination. To me, piglet should no inclination of “wanting” -or even “going” for more. Especially not career wise. Her life seemed utterly consumed with how she/her life looked, rather than how she felt, or actually wanted.
Which again, I know is more of a wider societal issue when it comes to the pressure placed on women (particularly straight cis women -think “happy ever after” etc), but even when her supportive female friends and work colleagues were reaching out, and—quite literally in the case of her FEMALE boss offering her a “leg up” the otherwise patriarchal ladder, she was too obsessed with her bloody croconbouches (which, again side note ((sorry I just have so many thoughts whirring away)) why wasn’t this the main cover illustration???) and being judgmental of her working/middle class family/upbringing.
Which nicely (or not) brings me on to the other “elephant (pardon the phrase) in the room”, her name -or nickname. Which again, was never really fully explained. Though at least we could piece together some idea of it’s origins, due to her apparent ���ravenous appetite” of gorging on food. Though other than that -which again, I didn’t feel was particularly handled well, or at least explored the implications of her illness (which it clearly was) on her mental health and well being, as well as her ongoing relationship towards food and her family, enough to warrant its inclusion.
Overall a sadly disappointing debut novel, about yet another disillusioned young women who’s fallen prey to the patriarchal strings above, but lacks any willpower or gumption to “take back control” or ownership, of her life.
1.5 stars
PS -thanks to Doubleday for the proof copy! Regardless of my opinions, hopefully Hazell goes on to do well :)
How do you tell people, when the invitations have been sent, the crème pâtissière made, that the fullness of your life has been a pretense; your pleasures, you realize, posture?
Lottie Hazell's fresh debut novel Piglet gives modern readers a gift: A Hyacinth Bucket for the internet age. There's something so enduring about this type of character; the brown-noser, the social climber, the one-upper. The façade. And it's a character that lends itself especially well to our current climate of filters, fillers, Instagram-readiness, and FOMO.
For, like Hyacinth, feature character Piglet comes from a lower class English background but desires more from her adulthood. We're introduced to her 98 days before her wedding to posh Kit, the two new homeowners in Oxford (thanks to a loan from his wealthy parents).
She goes through life bearing her childhood nickname, called Piglet for her impulse to overeat. But, as an adult, she exercises precise control over this: dominating food by tackling varied and complicated recipes, plating them expertly, and serving them to others at carefully planned dinner parties. Always to impress. She works out with her soon-to-be mother-in-law, and plans to fast to fit into her confection of a wedding gown. She even intends to do her own wedding cake; three tiers of croquembouche.
But it's just a veneer. Just as Hyacinth Bucket's is a life built on Royal Doulton and lacquered parquet flooring, that polish can so easily be wiped away.
And Kit does this just before their wedding, wiping away the veneer. And Piglet subsequently flounders for something in her curated life that is real. Is that food? Can it be food, the way she had been treating it?
There's certainly an obliviousness to characters like this; when Piglet fusses over her croquembouche when others care more for her as the bride, or when Hyacinth plots elaborate candlelit suppers her circle dreads. They place importance on the wrong things, and things go wrong for them.
But for how unaware characters like this are, they're at the same time hyperaware. Hypervigilant. Feeling at all times eyes on them, camera lenses on them. The spotlight shone on them, an audience before them. Because there's an addictive quality to perfection, for those rare times when things go right; when a recipe turns out, or a party is a hit.
But that's a temporary high, and it's all the more demanding to replicate that success. And, if time is spent always on best behavior, in the kitchen or snapping pics, the real moments, the relaxed moments, go missed.
It's like Jesus at the home of Martha and Mary; Martha sat with Him and listened to His words, while Mary spent her time making the home look good for His visit. And then He was gone, and she missed the whole thing.
A compelling, readable story about class, ambition, desire, appearances, and blowing up your own life. For most of the novel I wasn’t sure whether the obscurity of the key plot point was going to work, but in the end it did for me. This isn’t a novel about what specifically happened, but rather how complicated and wrought it is to cross class boundaries, and to create a life that perhaps looks like what you desire, rather than feels like it.
I absolutely loved this ! It was such a captivating and intense read that surprised me so much. The novel primarily consists of discussions and descriptions of food, which may seem strange and unconventional, but it works incredibly well at creating an atmosphere that becomes increasingly unsettling.
The slow descent of the main character into madness was absolutely delightful and portrayed with such nuance that it became utterly mesmerizing. The unease and discomfort were palpable, and as a former bulimic myself, it really struck a chord and made me feel understood in a way I never had before. It was somewhat healing, in a way.
I will definitely be buying a physical copy as soon as I can!
*****SPOILERS*****
About the book: Outside of a childhood nickname she can't shake, Piglet's rather pleased with how her life's turned out. An up-and-coming cookbook editor at a London publishing house, she's got lovely, loyal friends and a handsome fiancé, Kit, whose rarefied family she actually, most of the time, likes, despite their upper-class eccentricities. One of the many, many things Kit loves about Piglet is the delicious, unfathomably elaborate meals she's always cooking.
But when Kit confesses a horrible betrayal two weeks before they're set to be married, Piglet finds herself suddenly… hungry. The couple decides to move forward with the wedding as planned, but as it nears, and Piglet balances family expectations, pressure at work, and her quest to make the perfect cake, she finds herself increasingly unsettled, behaving in ways even she can't explain. Torn between a life she's always wanted and the ravenousness that comes with not getting what you know you deserve, Piglet is, by the day of her wedding, undone, but also ready to look beyond the lies we sometimes tell ourselves to get by. Release Date: February 27th, 2024 Genre: Fiction Pages: 320 Rating: ⭐
What I Liked: 1. I liked the writing style 2. The story kept me reading 3. Friendships and changes
What I Didn't Like: 1. That we never find out what Kit did 2. Some parts are boring (the wedding) 3. 45 uses of croquembouche 4. Only one use of her name; pg 302 - Pippa 5. The ending
Overall Thoughts:
{{Disclaimer: I write my review as I read}}
I absolutely adored the English writing and words used. It all felt like very posh.
All this food is making me hungry.
I don't know if I'd really want to see my future mother in law naked.
I liked the way that pregnancy and friendship is touched upon. Reading about Pippa dealing with the change in her friendship as her friend pulls away.
"Typical Pig,” he said, shaking his head. He addressed Kit across the table: “I assume you’ve noticed how she can’t leave a table until every bite has been hoovered up.” Gross. Her dad saying this.
We finally get a story behind how Pippa got her name and it's so sad. Her family just has these fond memories of giving her the name. In the same section we get a reveal that Franny at 12 had(s) an eating disorder and has been hiding her food in their shared room. Pippa eats the cake so Franny doesn't have to thinking she's doing the right thing to hell her sister.
Twice we've been told that Kit did something but I want to know what. I hope they don't draw this out for the whole book but keep referencing something did happen.
200 pages in and we still have no idea what Kit has done but we do get a moment in the book while Pippa is pooping.
Is this wedding ever going to end? It just feels like it will never end.
I like that Pippa came over to see Sasha ready to finally hold the baby and be in their lives.
I hate that the sister who also struggles with an eating disorder would join in at calling Pippa, Piglet. It seemed unbelievable and weird. I just don't think someone who loves her sister this much would never put it together how hurtful it is to call someone you love a fat pig.
Cool love that the author thinks the only feeling overweight people is for hunger so much so that they don't even need to be happy, because their happiness is only to food. She wants Kit to leave so she can make food and eat. Lovely.
We never find out what Kit did!!!!
I know more about how to make croquembouche from this book then anything about Kit.
We end on a stupid recipe of making pasta. What a waste of my day.
Final Thoughts: Not the first thing to reference heavy people as pigs but reminded me at moments of the movie Piggy that's on Hulu.
We don’t know Piglet's age or her size, her eye color or hair color. I liked that but what I did not like and absolutely can not get behind is never telling us what bad thing Kit did.
I didn't like that Pippa refers to herself as Piglet all the time. I get her family says it but did we really need 1,140 uses of it in a book that's only 320 pages. That's 3 uses on every page.
I loved Sasha who was there for Pippa the whole time and only stepped away because she was going to marry Kit despite whatever he did.
Writing overweight women from the pov of a woman who looks as though she has never had to deal with those issues always make me feel weird.
I am so mad at this ending. This whole time we're dragged through the story because Kit did something but then to get to the ending and you'll never know what it is he did that was so bad she totally changed how she felt about him. It was so bad her friends told her to not marry him. I think it's bullshit. What kind of story builds a whole story on this plot point only for you to never find out what it's even for. It all feel so pointless. It feels like a cop out to the story.
Its been 24 hours since I finished reading this and I'm still not entirely sure what I think of this. I found the "nickname" jarring and really wished it wasn't used throughout- although I do feel that was the author's intention.
There aren't any likeable characters and they do all feel a bit superficial and lacking in any depth.
The blurb felt so connecting and relatable, but I felt a disconnect with the book as a whole. I think something is maybe missing for me.
A week before Piglet’s wedding, her fiance tells her a secret that rocks her to the core. She decides to go through with the wedding anyway, and as the days grow closer, Piglet begins to unravel. I enjoyed some these moments, which include visiting restaurants and ordering everything on the menu, but when Piglet alienates her best friend and seems to be operating on autopilot, I really started to worry about her.
Piglet’s a cookbook editor who sure knows how to cook, so prepare yourself for some mouth-watering food descriptions. But this is much more than a novel about food and a wedding. This is about a young woman at a crossroads. Should she go down the road that’ll guarantee her wealth and success or take a risk and be true to herself? I feel like every twentysomething woman can see thenselves in Piglet and those of us who’ve already had to make big choices several times by now will root for her to gather her courage and demand what she deserves.
I did have some issues with a woman who willingly accepted the nickname of Piglet and was also food-obsessed. The stigma of eating for pleasure and not being thin was an undercurrent in this novel, and I wish the author had given us some insight as to what originally caused Piglet’s eating disorder. Overall, a solid debut with vivid writing.