Like children when they are first told that the drumstick is actually a leg, the tongue is really a tongue, the bacon was once a pig like Wilbur in “Charlotte’s Web,” Masson hopes, with all his heart, that we will say, “Eeeuwww, yuck.”

It’s a challenge to create transformative moments with books, but he does it. Pages lack the physical threat, the shock of the Buddhist master’s stick on the back to wake up the wayward meditator. They lack the drumbeat. Words travel, so often, through the head on their long journey to the heart. Masson is a wise, clear writer, but it doesn’t hurt, while reading this important book, to look at the image of the young cow on the cover or the 67-year-old author’s healthy photo on the back flap.

Here’s how Masson builds his argument: First, we’ve been fed a myth of humans as hunters; structurally, we lack the teeth, the jaw and the digesting enzymes of carnivores.

A false sense of our uniqueness as humans, as opposed to true understanding of our animal nature and the fact that we share more than 95 percent of our DNA with