The narrator of Hogg is a Huck Finn–like youngster caught in society’s most sinister seams—but unlike Huck, he passes no moral judgments on the violence he takes part in . . .
Hogg is the story of a man—a depraved trucker named Franklin Hargus, whom the people he works for call Hogg—and of the nameless boy who tells the story of three days of unspeakable sexual violence and devastation, which, together, they initiate in a small seaside American city in the middle of the last century. Hogg is a towering brute who makes his living as a rapist for hire. By the end of a series of vicious attacks, kidnappings, and mass murders, the reader will wonder who is more corrupt: the man or the boy.
Samuel R. Delany completed his first draft of Hogg within a day, if not within hours, of the 1969 Stonewall Riots in New York City and revised it over the next four years, though it was not released until 1995.
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HOGG was written in 1968, a few short months before the Stonewall Riots. Brimming with anger and pent up sexuality, HOGG is (by the author's admission) a pornographic novel for nobody. It's the kind of novel that's hard to describe as "good," even though it's masterfully constructed and hard-hitting. It's also disgusting on a deep, visceral level--multiple levels, actually.
The (mostly) nameless, voiceless narrator of HOGG is an underage boy of possibly mixed race who begins his narrative by immediately shifting focus from himself to Hogg, a character so vile that it's hard to write a PG description of him. His profession is that of a rape artist. He rapes specific women in exchange for cash and enjoys his work, though admittedly he prefers the company of men.
When the narrator and Hogg meet, it leads to a weekend of unspeakable violence and puke-worthy sex. Racism literally abounds; some characters are referred to just by an epithet, and some of their names are only revealed in police reports. HOGG, the novel, plays on our sense of pity--we want to feel bad for the narrator. It's easy to see him as a victim of society. But as the pages go on, it gets harder and harder as he becomes more than an active participant in the goings-on.
The word "love" is never mentioned in the 200+ page novel, but the reader can feel an approximation of it in the relationship between Hogg and the narrator--maybe. This makes the ending just that much more powerful, when the narrator speaks his only line of dialogue.
This is a very powerful book, whether you can find something redeemable in it or not. It's very much a product of its time, and furthermore, it SAYS something, which I think these so-called "extreme" horror authors could learn a thing about. HOGG is not just filth for the sake of filth, or violence for the sake of violence. When put in context, it's heart-breaking and vile at the same time. I don't know if another book has ever made me feel this way.