Handmaid’s Tale Review - by Jenny Ward
In my writing I am very interested in dystopian societies,
especially dystopias which look at the issues of today’s world and exaggerating
them to future extremes. Hence, I was naturally attracted to this book by
Margaret Atwood in which the anti-feminist movement is extrapolated to a point
where, in the fictional city of Gilead, all women have been cut off from money,
“can’t hold property any more” and are either housewives of the men who run
Gilead or Handmaids, described by the narrator Offred (a handmaid herself) as
“walking wombs”. These handmaids are specifically hired by families to have
intercourse with the husbands (while the wife is in the room as part of the
conception ceremony) and bear the “families” children.
Through the course of the novel Offred is gradually
degraded from a modern woman with a daughter and a lover, as we see through
Offred’s narration of her memories, to the reified (in this instance meaning reduced
by society to a state where she is viewed as an object or machine), dehumanised
cog in the system. This reification is accentuated by both Atwood’s description
of Offred’s isolation, and also her portrayal of Offred’s acute isolation.
Offred’s identity is stripped from her, firstly,
through her clothing; she is forced to wear a red shapeless burka-like outfit that turns her into a “nondescript woman in red
carrying a basket”. Secondly, Offred is even denied a name, her character name
derived from the name of her captain; she is “of Fred”. This adds another level
of reification as she is defined solely through her ownership, portraying to
the reader how dehumanised the society has forced her to become. This loss of
identity, isolation and the slow degradation of her humanity that we see
through the novel, especially in contrast with her previous life, is
beautifully described and structured by Margaret Atwood, making “The Handmaids
Tale” a truly poignant novel. It is structured in chapters titled merely by
stages of her day i.e. “Nap” and “night”. From this structure we not only get a
portrayal of how mechanical Offred’s life is but an accurate depiction of how
memory works from Atwood. The memories we get from Offred are narrated mostly
in her nap times or “night”, the first flashback not occurring till chapter
three, when Offred’s mind is free to wonder. Through this the novel appears
fragmented, leaving the reader the task of gradually piecing together the
sections of Offred’s life throughout the novel. This is not only an accurate
impression of memory, but also gives the reader a sense of the struggle in
Offred’s personality between the powerful, carefree woman in her fragmented flack
backs, and the reified person Gilead has made her into.
This struggle is poignant in itself but, as to
poignancy, one example has always stuck in my memory. There is a description of
Offred laughing in chapter nine, a sensation Offred does not recognise,
feeling she has “broken, something has cracked, that must be it”, describing
how laughter is an “emotion inappropriate to the occasion” and “could be
fatal”. This section is so beautifully sad, showing how much she has changed
from her previous life, even to the extent that she has forgotten and is afraid
of happy emotions, or even any emotions as she “prays to be empty”.
In conclusion, I would really recommend this book
to anyone; it stands out not only in its interesting plot but also through
Margaret Atwood’s ability to build a complete, unfamiliar world whilst still
moving the story along. She gradually allows the reader to discover the world
of Gilead, portrayed even in her use of syntax; in which there are no speech
marks, lessening the dramatic quality of dialogue, but nevertheless not
lessening the interest in the plot, to create an empty, hollow feeling to Offred’s
narration. It is this careful and subtle world building which I admire most,
and aim to achieve in my own novel.
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