I’ve always found the story of Erysichthon to be pretty straightforwardly delicious: a man who commits a terrible deed is punished with an appropriate and horrifying curse. (If only it worked that way in real life!) There are so many fun ways to potentially adapt it—including as a body-horror cozy mystery, which I still think is not a half-bad idea—but once I started writing “The Things Eric Eats Before He Eats Himself,” I found myself unable to unsee Erysichthon as anything but a pawn. Not sympathetic, exactly. Rather, as a part of a larger system of entitlements and appetites, one that ultimately destroys almost everything it touches. Erysichthon learns too late what so many other people already know: if there’s a list of things to be eaten—without compunction, without compassion, without mercy—chances are you’ll eventually be on it, too.
CARMEN MARIA MACHADO