The Very Hungry Caterpillar

The Very Hungry Caterpillar

By Eric Carle

Warning: The following critically acclaimed piece contains spoilers of the material in the book.

Solace is Caterpillar. Societal image issues. Eating disorder bullshit. Three phrases that come to mind when I think of this book – a book that lures the eyes more than a hair-flicking Robert Pattinson lures a 12-year-old girl.

Claustrophobics beware: our main character is caged from page two, forcing reader empathy right to the point of tears with the pre-larval, leaf-eating worm with legs. Like a sentient city in a snow globe, our Caterpillar must be ambling to scratch the skin membrane of its egg prison. The Very Hungry Caterpillar then pulls some Shawshank Redemption shit and “POP!” from the egg emerges our hero.

Our larval friend joins society and, if one reads between the lines, the plot consists of our friend making a choice. To its right lays a path of various fruits in various numbers, each one day from each smorgasbord. To its left is the latest edition of the Caterpillar Girlfriend magazine, spotlighting a skeletal image of the Caterpillar Selena Gomez. Her figure like that of a slightly hairy pencil in a loose fitting, size zero, silk bathing suit. Those weak of will might fail, but not our Caterpillar. Our friend skips to the right as we follow with the page flicks.

In addition, as a point of criticism, I felt that days Tuesday through Friday were really just filler. It felt very much like new fruit, new number, but the same shit. At this point of the book (pages four to eight) you wouldn’t miss much by skipping ahead. The only thing that persists is our hero’s hunger that, like our love for the main character, is unending. That is, until day six, Saturday.

Yes, it’s great that our main character managed to ignore society’s views about how caterpillars should appear, but come Saturday we find out that our hero has an eating disorder. Six sugary, two meat, one fatty dairy and one vegetable were the meals chosen. Clearly the Caterpillar saw the food pyramid on Friday and decided to eat that too. We’re so full we now have a stomach ache. So what to do? Our hero can’t put his stubby legs into his mouth and vomit – they are just too small. However, we can tweet about this problem, #DesignsAgainstBelemia. No pharmaceutical company is making antacids for caterpillars. It must endure; it must survive. Sunday it has a salad and it’s all good.

After the events of Saturday did our main character really think there would be a consequence? A recycled plot device from page two sees the hero re-caged in a cocoon. Once again caught, once again freed, once again lonely. The membrane replaced by silk walls but the effect is the same. Worse still it’s a room for two, our hero and the villain, a caterpillar geneticist. Injection after injection, experiment after experiment, our hero must endure two weeks of pain and transformation until it is such a freak that it manages to bite its way to liberty. Overindulgence has made a freak from a beautiful individual. It is Caterpillar no more.
This article first appeared in Issue 26, 2014.
Posted 1:49pm Sunday 5th October 2014 by James Beck.