The Handmaid's Tale

Little Red  Hiding Hood

Atwood's dystopian novel presents the chilling antithesis of female freedom 

As summer begins, my steady production of book reviews decline. I am driven away from my novels, and drawn towards the alluring likes of Netflix. However, for this novel, I pause the television, and withdraw momentarily from countless episodes of 'Orange Is The New Black'. For this novel, I turn back to my computer screen, in order to write of the masterpiece that is Margaret Atwood's 'The Handmaid's Tale.'

A dystopian future has seen the United States of America transform into the totalitarian Republic of Gilead. Segregation of social class, female oppression and indefatigable control are fundamental to this new society. Of the uttermost importance, however, is the practice of childbearing. Due to dangerously low population levels, many women are being forced to act as surrogate Mothers for wealthy couples that struggle to conceive. They are given the label  'Handmaid', are smothered in red attire, and kept in virtual imprisonment from the world outside of their household. It is within this degrading role that we meet Offred, the narrator of the novel.

The world Offred inhabits is somewhat of a paradox: so hectic and yet so isolating at the same time. She is subject to the demands of her Commander: the aging "seed-bearer" of the household, and Serena Joy- his fragile, vindictive wife. Aside from this she shares artificial conversation with fellow Handmaids and servants, constantly under close surveillance by the state. Her days are mostly spent in the confinement of her bedroom-slash-prison-cell, waiting to be called on for sexual relations with the Commander like a fattened chicken waiting to be slaughtered. Offred has a former husband, child and best friend that she often mourns for, but the fragments of her former life are fading from her memory faster than tulips withering in winter snow.

Nonetheless, her ineffectual life is thrown a curveball when the Commander begins to show interest in her beyond her uses as a surrogate. In the interest of preserving spoilers, I need only mention that this change provides her with a new thirst to question the society she is forced to be part of. She also finds an unexpected companion in Nick, the Commander's Gardener, interpreting the stolen glances that they share as falling somewhere between respect and desire. The narrative is very much a patchwork of present-tense action, merged with various dreams and recollections of Offred's past. As time goes on, her dreams become hazier, her past becomes less defined, and her passion to reconstruct the future intensifies.

What she must learn, however, is that rebellion does not go unpunished in a society in which women are literally breeding slaves. Her daily trips to the spot in town known simply as 'The Wall' confirms the miserable fate of those who have dared to speak out against the state, hanging lifelessly like makeshift scarecrows. A fate, perhaps, that Offred edges closer to by the second, with every disobedient thought or action.

As with many novels, I found that the totalitarian society and high system of control that underlies this novel is very much reminiscent of George Orwell's '1984' (which, by the way, I know I keep mentioning, and if you haven't read it yet- you really should.) Yet beyond this, 'The Handmaid's Tale' is so captivating as it focuses primarily on the subversion of women. Gilead is a place where doctors are brutally murdered for assisting with abortions, and sex is strictly limited to the practice of childbearing. To a modern society of readers, this novel is a feminist's warning against the inflexible "pro-life" mentality. I am reminded particularly of an A-level Christian Ethics lesson, in which I was taught the 'slippery slope' argument against abortion- that allowing freedom of choice could lead to a hellish dystopia in which humans recklessly destroy and devalue human life. However, what Atwood presents in this novel is the direct opposite: a corrupt, preposterous example of a society in which women are restricted from any kind of choice. Atwood takes the idea of  "sanctity of life" to its shocking extreme, exposing the harsh reality of what restricting freedom could really entail.

Unfortunately, I found the dreamy, rather slow-paced narrative a little dull in places, flaring up only at certain checkpoints. Although frustrating, this hazy style may be a deliberate technique to portray Offred's melancholy, as she drifts between the miserable present and temporary refuge of her dreams. The reader may feel that they are becoming a little overwhelmed with the distorted nature of Offred's mindset, and seek to know more about the other characters, whose various lives are offered only in glimpses. Could we, perhaps, benefit from hearing from the perspective of Serena Joy, the woman who is forced to witness her husband sleep with a surrogate Mother? Could we even encounter the Commander himself, and understand more about the male outlook on this new society?

I am reminded, of course, that the answer to questions such as these may be found simply by referring to the novel's title. This is, after all, the Handmaid's tale, and perhaps therefore rightfully attributed to one narrative only. Moreover, there may be a certain argument that Offred's experience is the one that the world of literature needs to hear the most. She is the authentic woman, shunned for her sexual desires, appropriated for her reproductive organs, and celebrated for her modesty and obedience. Her story is one that should be received not as a horrific fantasy, but as a very real indication of what oppression could one day become.

Read this novel if you want to be captivated by the chilling dystopia, acquainted with the endearing character of Offred, and ultimately educated on the importance of female rights. Read it before watching the Channel 4 live action remake, if you can resist the temptation. This is a story that needs to be told, and- unequivocally- one that needs to be read.










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