In the modern world, the expression of emotion is a mighty expectation. In the face of extinction, how can you trust what you feel?
Several narrative lines cross in Excitement is not part of my feeling repertoire. A detective has been advised to check her cynical disposition, a product of dealing in death. A Neanderthal woman struggles to place her feelings in the modern world. A modern man reckons with his wife’s murder by his own hand. The emotional estrangement that variously afflicts each of these characters is overseen by wild swine, whose superior capacity for survival affords them divine status in this story. Unlike the detective, Neanderthal woman and modern man, the swine are sure of themselves and their feelings. Unmoved by human and Neanderthal troubles, they comment and offer suggestions in a mocking tone. Their chorus is a portent perhaps, for a time when wild swine will outlive all.