The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood (1984)

Rating:⭐⭐⭐⭐ I don't believe I need to tell you that Margaret Atwood is a superb author. Her writing style is as unique as it is brilliant and there's a reason people study it in school. I decided to tackle this lauded novel for myself this fall, to see what treasures it has in store. What I found, were treasures indeed. Rating:⭐⭐⭐⭐

I will say up front- this novel is not for those looking for a plucky Romantasy. You must be prepared to strap in and truly appreciate Atwood's message through storytelling. The novel centers on a character whose life is very cyclic- you'll find the events to be cyclic in nature too, however, each repetition reveals a new layer of the story. There is no fast-paced action or detailed background lore- this is a slow burn of intrigue, revelation, and ideology. The characters engage in a subversive cat-and-mouse powerplay of the subtlest forms: a look, a touch, a blink.

I found myself slowing down to read this novel. I wanted to savor the feast that Atwood's prose delivers. Her use of syntax and grammar was refreshingly unorthodox and her ability to slowly reveal the world she created- unmatched.

Despite the horrors her characters endure within the Republic of Gilead, Atwood made a point of writing this novel using references of things that have actually happened in some capacity throughout history. Does she have your attention now?

So, why should you read this novel? I'd boil it down to three reasons: 1. Atwood's writing style is beautifully blunt and can articulate complex ideas with a mere word. Excuse me while I fan-girl, but she's that good. 2. We are doomed to repeat the history that which we do not heed. The political upheaval that occurs in this novel was insidious and yet seemed to happen overnight. People didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. It send the important message to pay attention to your world and do not take for granted the freedoms we enjoy today. 3. Atwood tackles themes of power, control, resistance, language, and memory. There's a lot to unpack here if you're brave enough to face it.

SPOILERS TO FOLLOW!

SPOILERS TO FOLLOW BELOW!

A brief intro: Offred is a woman living in the Republic of Gilead, a dystopian American northeast. Men have seized control of the population, created a theocracy based on a few Bible verses (strongly interpreted to suit their agenda) and categorized the population according to the roles they serve in. Declining birth rate and rampant infertility have allowed those in power to identify the few fertile women left, attempt to indoctrinate them for the purpose of repopulation, and assign them to a household where they are bred monthly in a very uncomfortable ritual. Handmaids are considered property of the Commander they are assigned to and are allowed no freedoms beyond that which we would afford a calf destined to be veal today. Thus is the life of a Handmaid and our main character.

With other novels, I sometimes like to spend some time on the characters, themes, and author novelties. However, this book has been relevant long enough that I would like to spend more time focusing on some really fantastic passages and dissecting their meaning further. This is what I believe makes Atwood special, and this is what I would like to show you, dear reader.

Without further ado:

Prized Pigs:

Let's take a look at a section on pages 69-70:

"I wait, washed, brushed, fed, like a prize pig. Sometime in the eighties they invented pig balls, for pigs who were being fattened in pens. Pig balls were large colored balls; the pigs rolled them around with their snouts. The pig marketers said this improved their muscle tone; the pigs were curious, they liked to have something to think about."

Atwood goes on to discuss a psychology study that examined pigeons trained to peck at a button for food with varying results. Some pigeons gave up quickly, some soon after, and some, "...never gave up. They'd peck themselves to death rather than quit. Who knew what worked? I wish I had a pig ball."

There's a strong element of contempt for herself in the first line. Pigs are never invoked as well-admired animals. They're often representative of filth and laziness- the baser spectrum of creatures. Even to be trussed up and touted off to show doesn't change the fact that a pig is still a pig. There's even a saying for it: "you can't put lipstick on a pig". Offred feels like a pig- valued for utility, yet utterly disgraced. There's an element of dismay in the last line where she feels perhaps even lower than a pig- they at least get pig balls for entertainment. She's not even granted that. Atwood uses this example to reveal a mental snapshot of how trapped her characters must feel.

Offred's reference to the pigs being curious is Atwood commenting on the apparent attempt of mental enslavement the women are subjected to as well. In this world, neither curiosity nor free thought are granted to women. In fact, Handmaids' red bonnets have white wings on the side that resemble horse blinders to keep them from looking around. Can't let those Handmaids get curious about the world around them. The reigning power structure designed their life to be as dull and restrictive as possible, likely with the goal that they will succumb to plodding through their fate.

Hats:

On page 128, Offred is looking up at the hole in the ceiling, waiting.

"Today it makes me think of a hat, the large-brimmed hats women used to wear at some period during the old days: hats like enormous halos, festooned with fruit and flowers, and the feathers of exotic birds; hats like an idea of paradise, floating just above the head, a thought solidified."

Oh, this is a beautiful passage. One of my favorites, I think. Atwood invokes feelings of frivolity with the silly hats women used to wear, all sporting fruit, flowers, and looking very much like some tropical bird caught in an elaborate, yet stupid-looking mating dance. But then she shifts. "Hats like an idea of paradise...just above the head" invokes this ephemeral feeling that these ideas of paradise will never be reached. They float just above us, just out of reach. Despite the "thought solidified", it can be seen, perhaps only in the mind's eye, but never captured. To me, this futile idea of paradise is the destiny of any utopia. It will inevitably become a dystopia because humans are incapable of perfection and that thought of a perfect world will forever be just out of reach.

Volcanoes:

Another on page 146:

" I shake, I heave, seismic, volcanic, I'll bust. Red all over the cupboard, mirth rhymes with birth, oh to die of laughter."

In this scene, Offred is painfully struggling to not laugh. At what, it's not exactly clear. She doesn't even know. It's a hysterical, uncontrollable laughter that bubbles up out of the blue and she suppresses it for fear that someone will discover her outburst, assume she's gone mad, and drug her indefinitely. What I really liked was how Atwood described the laugh. It's violent, a force of nature, explosive. It's uncontrollable and nearly painful. Laughter usually comes from humor but this is the nervous, unchecked laughter of fear. She finishes this passage with a near-oxymoron - "to die of laughter" Sounds like a pleasant way to go, yet this description is would not suggest so.

Themes:

Power, Control, and... Feminism?

People always want to say this novel has a political swing to it- women's reproductive or bodily rights. You could always argue one way or another for that. However, I don't believe this is Atwood's message- it's too literal for her. Obviously, women shouldn't be owned and bred like cattle. That's not a very nuanced message.

Instead, I'd offer that she's examining the transfer of power and using this dystopian situation as a vehicle for her message. Power is about who has it and who wants it, who gives it and who allows it to be taken. Even the names of the Handmaids: Offred, Ofglen - they're literally "Of Fred, Of Glen" because they are identified by who they belong to. When power is given up, control ensues. Every time someone concedes, a little more power is taken from them and a little more control is asserted. Taking that power back becomes increasingly difficult. Atwood is showing how power can be silently transferred simply because people accept little changes that lead to major shifts before they know it. Once enough control has been established and enough power taken, the new ruling class can do as they please.

Perception vs Reality:  

A lot of the characters are slowly revealed to not be who they seem at first. Offred seems to have accepted her fate in the beginning but she chooses, sometimes recklessly, to accept significant risks in her quiet pursuit of a way out. She doesn't yell and scream, she bides her time, steals butter, plays scrabble, and reads magazines. Sounds ridiculous right? But all of these seemingly minor details are major transgressions in their society that would lead to her maiming or worse. By doing them, especially with the willing involvement of others, she enters into an unspoken contract where their knowledge of the act puts the individual in jeopardy, and elevates Offred to a newfound position of miniscule power. Little by little, she begins to take some power back.

Offred always remembered Moira, her friend from before, as brave and courageous. But when we finally get to see her, she isn't leading a rebellion or changing the power structure. No, she found an acceptable circumstance and decided to be content. There's not an insignificant amount of disappointment to see the reality of Offred's hero. Offred even goes as far as to mentally reinvent a heroic ending for Moira, because the reality just did not fit her mental perception of her best friend.

Furthermore, when Offred and Ofglen are walking around the market, they often secretly talk, which is a forbidden act. They do this under the guise of piety or loyalty to the Republic; they pretend to pray or pay respects to the recently murdered transgressors of the week. Much of the intrigue throughout the novel is realizing that everyone is doing things they "shouldn't". Learning the true reality peels back another layer of the story as you move throughout.

Memory:

Offred often lives in her memory. She revels in the simple pleasures of the freedom she took for granted before. She uses it as an escape, to subvert her current circumstances and draw strength in remembering who she used to love and how she used to see her own identity. There are a few times when she can't remember the word for something or a someone's face. I believe Atwood is cautioning against the fallacy of memory with this theme. Often we remember things how we want to, maybe not exactly as they were.

The Ending

Oh, the ending! I thought about the ending for a few days, trying to decide if I was annoyed with it or not. We are left with Offred being hauled into a van of The Eyes that we assume (and hope) is actually an undercover group for the resistance group, Mayday. We also assume (and hope), based on the confusion of the Commander and Serena Joy, that Luke called them in to save Offred.

However. We do not know.

Offred is left stepping "into the darkness within; or else the light" (295). There's a duality here: Death or Salvation. Perhaps she is stepping into the unknown darkness that ends up being the light of a new life- her salvation from the grip of this society. But perhaps she's stepping into the van not knowing if she's about to be killed and still prepared for that scenario. Either way, she will emerge from that darkness at the end of the drive into the light of a changed situation. We are left to wonder what becomes of her fate.

I ultimately decided that I love the ending. It's satisfyingly unsatisfying. I do understand, but I'm also left wanting to know the answer. And I know I never will. It's the type of ending that sticks with you and here's why: the choice to have hope or dismay is left to the reader.

Atwood gives us plausible reason to think that Offred's fate could have ended happily, but there's also plausible reason to think that it didn't. The reader gets to choose which one they want to believe in, and both options are a resolution- either Offred is saved or she is killed. Yet, either way, she is removed from the situation she exists in and the story as we know it is complete.

I like that Atwood gives the reader this choice. It allows the reader to consider their own psychology- are you an optimist or a pessimist? Do you choose to believe in a happy ending? Or are you a realist and accept that she's doomed? And are you okay with your perspective? Books can hold up a wonderful mirror, don't you think?