I love The Handmaid’s Tale

I’m reading Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, and I can’t even wait to finish it to praise it. Atwood’s imagination and writing are enthralling. She makes me want to study with her to learn how she does it.

Margaret

This is a book about an imagined time, yet the story is so believable – how a woman who once had a job, money, a husband, and a child now is no longer even allowed to read. Her ovaries are her only redeeming feature. She now must lie with the Commander and his wife once a month, hopefully to give them the baby she conceives. Atwood writes:

“But isn’t this everyone’s wet dream, two women at once? They used to say that. Exciting, they used to say.”

The Handmaid is the narrator. In a particularly beautiful passage she discusses time:

“There’s time to spare. This is one of the things I wasn’t prepared for – the amount of unfilled time, the long parentheses of nothing. Time as white sound. If only I could embroider. Weave, knit, something to do with my hands. I want a cigarette. I remember walking in art galleries, through the nineteenth century: the obsession they had then with harems. Dozens of paintings of harems, fat women lolling on divans, turbans on their heads or velvet caps, being fanned with peacock tails, a eunuch in the background standing there. These pictures were supposed to be erotic, and I thought they were, at the time; but I see now what they were really about. They were paintings about suspended animation; about waiting, about objects not in use. They were paintings about boredom.

But maybe boredom is erotic, when women do it, for men.”

Enough quotes for now. Please read this book. You won’t be disappointed. I don’t know what took me so long.

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