I finished reading The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood, a few months ago. Since reading it, I have begun a dozen times to write about it, but I'm just not sure how. It seems like something I shouldn't touch. But I'm going to do it anyway and share some thoughts that it brought to mind as I read.Last year a few dozen women dressed in the red robes and white headpieces, like the ones in the Hulu series, and they stood in silent protest at the Utah State capitol. This was a stark picture against the gray and white backdrop of the State capitol buildings. Seeing it in the news made me shiver, because I could sense the justice behind their cause. As a white male I am identical to the oppressor in the novel, in the television series, and in Utah. So, I will try to be sensitive here as I talk about the book.
I first want to talk about the writer's style: Stark, beautiful, poetic. Many passages touched me the same way good poetry does, and I stopped to re-read them several times just to experience them again and again. There aren't many books have that effect on me. I love Atwood's style.
The least beautiful prose (done purposely, I believe, for effect) occurs at the end of the book. I can imagine it's not everyone's favorite ending. This may be a bit of a spoiler: At the book's end, we are presented to a cold and scholarly view of the people we have just been reading about. We see the protagonist, a woman named Offred, through impersonal eyes. She scholars are having a casual conversation, even making jokes, about this character we care about. They are many generations removed from Offred, and they view her dispassionately, as nothing more than a historical specimen.
One scholar expresses disappointment that Offred didn't talk more about the form of government and other things scholars often care about. From where they stood, far away in time from Offred, the scholars are unable to empathize with her. It was here that the book's impact settled into my mind. I felt the guilt and shame of having analyzed other human beings in exactly this way, for speaking about the sufferings and experiences of other humans as if I were a food critic commenting on the relative sweetness of a cake.
This book is not perfect. There are a few aspects of the story that require the skills of a Star Wars apologist so it all works perfectly. I forgive the novel for those things, like I forgive Charles Dickens for sometimes putting way too many handy coincidences in his novels, and Mark Twain for making the world so small that Tom Sawyer could find Huck Finn in the American South. I forgive well written books for their little idiosyncracies.
The Handmaid's Tale has stuck with me, in my psyche, since I finished it. I don't believe America will fall backward and become that world; however, I can understand the problems in my culture, the anger of women after thousands of years being bullied, harrassed, assaulted, undermined, dehumanized, delegitimized, etc...I can understand that "we've come a long way since 1955" is not a good excuse for still having problems today.
I loved Margaret Atwood's writing. I want to read more! On a social level, I want to do what I can to never again settle for just being a "nice guy." I feel compelled to learn, to get rid of the aspects of my character that may contribute to human suffering, and to become good.
I know this is kind of a rambling string of thoughts. I've got a lot on my mind lately, and I guess my disparate thoughts reflect that. There's a lot going on in my world aside from reading and writing. But thank goodness for great books.