The Corpse in the Room: Hunger and Thirst’s Bleak Portrait of Britain

Claire Fuller’s latest novel, Hunger and Thirst, is a scathing critique of Britain’s social ills, wrapped in a gothic horror narrative that explores the decay of human relationships as much as the physical rot at its heart. The book follows Ursula, a young woman shaped by her encounters with two cadavers: her mother, who died under tragic circumstances when Ursula was just seven, and Sue, her friend from the halfway house where she’s sent after being bounced between foster care.

Fuller’s fascination with corpses speaks to a broader concern about how we treat the dead and what that says about our treatment of each other. In an era marked by austerity measures and rising poverty, Hunger and Thirst offers a bleak portrait of Britain’s social safety net, one concerned with both physical decay and moral rot. The novel portrays individuals struggling to survive in a system that seems designed to fail them.

The central plot revolves around Sue’s murder and the subsequent true-crime documentary, Dark Descent, which serves as a stark reminder of how we exploit the most vulnerable among us. The documentary, with its prurient focus on Sue’s death, is a thinly veiled metaphor for our tendency to be drawn to tragedy without engaging with underlying causes.

Fuller employs multiple narrative threads – Ursula’s past and present, the documentary’s fictionalized account of events – creating a sense of temporal dislocation that mirrors modern life. This disjointedness is particularly striking in the novel’s portrayal of Ursula’s relationship with Sue, which begins as a tentative friendship but quickly devolves into something toxic.

The use of setting to explore themes is one of Hunger and Thirst’s most striking aspects. Fuller’s depiction of Winchester School of Art serves as a backdrop for Ursula’s nascent sense of self, where creativity and chaos coexist in cramped postrooms and cluttered studios.

As we navigate the complex web of relationships and power dynamics that underpin Hunger and Thirst, it’s impossible not to think about the real-world implications of Fuller’s vision. What does it say about our society when we’re more concerned with spectacle than addressing root causes? How do we justify treating those on the margins – the homeless, the addicted, the vulnerable?

Hunger and Thirst resists easy answers or resolutions, instead offering a bleak, unflinching portrayal of Britain’s social ills. Fuller challenges us to confront our complicity in the suffering of others, presenting a vision that’s both terrifying and necessary.

The documentary-maker who narrates Dark Descent may be drawn to Sue’s death, but it’s Fuller’s own work that truly captures the essence of our troubled times. As we grapple with the aftermath of COVID-19 and social unrest, Hunger and Thirst serves as a stark reminder of our complicity in others’ suffering.

In the end, it’s not just corpses that haunt us – it’s the lives we’ve left behind, the relationships we’ve abandoned, and the futures we’ve yet to shape. Hunger and Thirst refuses to let us look away from this grim reality, even as it offers a glimmer of hope for change.