As the writer Joy Williams strolls the beef barn at the county fair, she notes mournfully the lovely eyelashes of the future filets mignons. “There’s such a disconnect here,” she says. While charmed by the farm animals of southern Michigan, she knows where this story ends: the dinner table. The knife. She’s a vegetarian and defender of nonhuman life from cattle down to the mosquitoes in the Florida mangroves, and as she watches fairgoers stroke velvety bovine snouts bound for the butcher, what she sees is death done wrong. Tons of it.
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