The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

I considered not bothering to review The Handmaid's Tale because I think everyone I know has read it and what could I possibly have to say that hasn't already been said? But, I like to write down my thoughts, so I overruled myself.

The Handmaid's Tale is about Offred, a young woman who must dress in a long red dress that covers all but her hands and head. On her hands, she wears gloves when out in public; her head and face are covered with a white headdress with flaps on either side of her face so that she must turn her entire head to see anything not directly in front of her. She goes out to get food rations and meets up with another young lady dressed in red. Sometimes the person she meets is not the same one she walked with, before, and she knows that's a bad thing. When they walk past a wall that used to be part of a university, there are often bodies hanging and Offred looks to see if any of them happens to be her former husband.

Before she was Offred, she had another name, a husband, a child, and a job. What happened to her world and why is Offred nothing more than an object that belongs to the man of the house, now, subservient to the man's wife and doomed to labor or death if she doesn't conceive within a certain length of time? Where are Offred's husband and child? Who is in charge in this strange, dystopian world?

Not every question is answered but I personally think the way Margaret Atwood gradually reveals the story of Offred's past (if her real name was ever mentioned, I've forgotten it) was masterful. The Handmaid's Tale is both riveting and horrifying. I recall the ending as somewhat hopeful (although it's been over a month and I've forgotten quite a bit, already) but most of the way through the book, the sensation of Offred being utterly and completely trapped overwhelms the small rays of hope. Even when something important changes, there's always the lingering possibility that she could be put to death for that small change in her life.

Is this even remotely possible? That's the question that I think most people ask themselves, and they tend to shake it off as ridiculous. But, throughout the reading of The Handmaid's Tale, I kept returning to the thought of women in the Middle East, pre-Al Qaeda and Taliban. I don't want to post an image that might be copyrighted, so I'll just link to the one that really jumps out at me: Women in Kabul, 1970s and today. The fact that women used to be doctors and lawyers, dressed like women in the Western world, drove, and went to college and actually sometimes had rights before American women achieved them (Afghanistan allowed women to vote before the United States) seems to have been forgotten.

In The Handmaid's Tale, the oppressor is unnamed but there are hints that it's a religion dictating the treatment of women as vessels for reproduction or slaves and little else. I found myself wondering if Atwood based the book on what happened in the Middle East. Would women who lived in Kabul in the 70s have imagined what was about to happen to them? I don't think so. And, because of what has already happened in our world, I think I can safely say The Handmaid's Tale is more possible than we'd like to admit. Some of it seems a little far-fetched (the weird ceremonies, for example), but the oppression of women has happened and certainly could happen in other parts of the world.

Highly recommended - Mood-wise, The Handmaid's Tale is miserable. It's depressing and terrifying and sometimes gruesome. But, it's so beautifully done and so thought-provoking that I can see why people have been gushing about it for years. Unlike more recent dystopian reads, many of which are geared toward teen readers, there's no love triangle, no great hatching of a plan to fight back against the oppressor, and the small thread of hope is so slender that it's hard to believe it will amount to anything. I did eventually get to discuss The Handmaid's Tale with an online group, although only a few participated and I keep thinking I would love to someday reread The Handmaid's Tale with my big, noisy F2F group. I'm sure the discussion would be lively.

©2017 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery  or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

All the Birds, Singing by Evie Wyld

All the Birds, Singing by Evie Wyld

Copyright 2013

Pantheon Books - fiction  

Source:  Knopf Books

I just finished All the Birds, Singing, yesterday, and if I had no other obligations I'd read it all over, again.  It's literature with a tinge of horror and, fair warning, there is a good deal of graphic sex. If you're a regular at Bookfoolery, you know I absolutely hate graphic sex scenes but there are times I feel like they're necessary if they reveal some crucial aspect of the characterization or story. I think they were necessary, in this case, to vividly show the character's evolution -- where, how and why she became the tough, strong, loner who can shear a sheep as good as any man and better than some.

Brief synospis:

Jake Whyte lives on an isolated sheep farm in the British Isles, deliberately interacting only with a single neighbor, Don, the man who sold her the farm, or anyone she absolutely must encounter (like the girl at the local store).  Don tries to convince Jake that she should get to know people, if only by dropping into the local pub, now and then. But, Jake is a complex character with a past. She has run from some horror in her Australian homeland, a mysterious animal or person is savagely killing her sheep, and she has wicked scars on her back.  But what drove Jake all the way from Australia to Britain? How did she get those scars and what is killing her sheep?

There are two story lines, both told from Jake's perspective.  One is present tense and moves forward in real time; the other tells the story of her past in reverse order.  

My thoughts:

First and foremost, I was quite impressed with the author's skill. Given the harsh settings, coarse language and the well-described terror felt by the heroine, you would think I'd have abandoned All the Birds, Singing pretty quickly. I'm kind of a wimp. But, the story is so compelling that I absolutely couldn't bear to put All the Birds, Singing down. There are so many questions. What is happening to Jake's sheep? Where did those scars come from? Is she in imminent danger from either human or animal? If there really is an animal, is it real or a figment of her imagination? How did Jake end up alone on a sheep farm? What drove her out of Australia? 

As the story unfolds, more questions develop and the writing is so gutsy and mesmerizing, the protagonist so mysterious, the settings so atmospheric, the style so unusual that the scary scenes and the sexual -- the "yucky bits", as my F2F book group leader would say -- never felt like a barrier to the reading to me so much as critical building blocks. The title seems a bit odd unless you observe the imagery: birds appear whenever something major happens. I noticed that more on a subconscious level than a conscious one till I closed the book and pondered. 

What I really loved about All the Birds, Singing most is the growth of the character. You know from the beginning that she's muscular, physically strong, but emotionally vulnerable. Something in her dark past has wounded her and the physical scars appear to be a reflection of the internal. But, since you must read about her past in reverse, it takes quite a while to find out how she was scarred in both ways. And, the answers really surprised me. There's no heavy-handed hint-dropping. 

There is, perhaps unfortunately, an ambiguous ending. On the other hand, the ambiguity certainly lends the book that quality that makes for great discussion. For my part, I felt like I understood where Jake had come from, how she had been driven to increasing depths of despair, and I was actually quite satisfied with the ending even though at least one major question remains unanswered.

Cover thoughts:  The cover is one of my favorites of the year, thus far. It nicely portrays the fragmented method of writing, the fear of the unknown, the settings and the use of animals. I'm not knowledgeable about imagery but animals, both British and Australian, play a large role in the book and I did think some of them represented danger, whether real or imagined. I had to look a couple of the Australian critters up online.

Highly recommended - Impressive writing, in my humble opinion, literary with a touch of horror. If you can't bear graphic sex, language or descriptions of gore, you might want to skip this one, but I personally found that the descriptions were important to the plot. The book is fairly short at about 225 pages - no excessive wordiness, very tight writing yet truly captivating. I love that.

A review I love:  After writing my review, I dashed over to Goodreads and walking away for a bit, I got a little help understanding the imagery from one particularly perspicacious review of All the Birds, Singing by a fellow named Douglas Feil. There were some other reviews I loved but that one's my particular favorite.

©2014 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery  or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.