n Thinner Than Thou, Kit Reed's new novel, anorexic Annie Abercrombie is a prisoner of the Dedicated Sisters, forced into their convent by a father embarrassed and humiliated by his daughter's emaciated appearance, the outward sign of that greatest of sins—an eating disorder. Annie's sister and brother, Betz and Danny, driving across the country with Annie's boyfriend, Dave Berman, are determined to rescue her, as is Annie's remorseful mother, Marg, who is on her own separate mission to save her daughter, avoid plastic surgery and, not incidentally, gain some independence for herself.
The overweight, middle-aged broker Jeremy Devlin, converted to the gospel of the perfect body by the televised broadcasts of the powerful media figure Reverend Earl, sells all he has and signs himself in to Sylphania, the spa that is the cornerstone of the reverend's worldwide enterprises, only to find himself in an oppressive work camp from which there is no escape.
Annie and her fellow inmate Kelly, an obese young woman whom the Sisters are trying to slim down, struggle to find a way out of their prison. Meanwhile, at Sylphania, Jeremy falls in love with Zoe, another resident at the spa, during a forbidden courtship punctuated by orgies of dining on contraband food. Danny helps pay for his and his companions' travel expenses through his prowess at competitive eating contests, while Marg eventually makes contact with an ecumenical group of subversives working against the Reverend Earl and the Dedicated Sisters, an underground railroad of people who practice older religions such as Christianity, Buddhism and Islam.
The Reverend Earl, it turns out, has a number of secrets, among them his own perverted desires as well as a plan to rid the world of unsightly old people.
A compassionate satire
Kit Reed's satirical targets in Thinner Than Thou—eating disorders, obsessions with physical perfection, televangelists, religions in which salvation is based on material success in this world, and hypocrites of all kinds—are rich in possibilities for potshots and savage humor. But along with her penetrating wit, Reed also has a talent for seeing below the surface.
Annie's self-imposed starvation and Kelly's gluttony are quests for independence and signs of an oddly admirable discipline as much as they are psychological problems. Danny's motivation for competitive eating, his desire for glory, and the discipline he brings to what he thinks of as his "training" aren't unlike those of any world-class athlete. The pornography of this body-worshipping society has a lot more to do with strong taboos involving food and obesity than with sex:
"Inside every thin person there's a fat one screaming. Millions of brown cells lying in wait. At the right moment these dormant fat cells will expand and the whole huge, suppressed person will spring into shape.
"It makes them feel dirty just thinking about it."
Reed's sharp gaze and her gift for internal monologues filled with both humor and psychological insight are on display here, along with a plot that pulls its many threads together in an uproarious, logical and satisfying conclusion. Especially notable is the author's compassion for her characters. Reed is not in the business of taking cheap shots at caricatures; readers will sympathize with these people even while chuckling at their obsessions and the absurd situations in which they find themselves. Thinner Than Thou is that rare treat, a novel that serves up its hard truths and caustic commentary with large helpings of humor and intelligence. Discerning readers should savor this delight even when it may hit too close to home.
