8/100: The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood

Small confession: I've read this before. That's a fact I've decided to overlook in its inclusion on my list of 100 books for the Cannonball Read though, because the first time I read it was the summer before my senior year of high school. It was also required reading back then, another fact I've decided to overlook, because when I re-read The Handmaid's Tale last week it was for fun.

I love dystopic literature; it's probably one of my favorite themes. By the time I picked up The Handmaid's Tale, I'd long considered Animal Farm, 1984, Brave New World, and The Giver to be among my favorite books (I know The Giver is a kids' book, but it's incredibly powerful when you consider the major issues it confronts and makes digestible for younger readers). I was intrigued by Handmaid though, because Gilead, the society in which this story takes place, is a theocracy based completely on the Bible (or rather, gross misinterpretations of the Bible), whereas the aforementioned novels are primarily totalitarian regimes without a unified religion. Or, the state is the religion, whereas in Handmaid, the religion is the state (I know that doesn't sound like a distinction, but it is).

The Handmaid's Tale is pretty disturbing. Imagine a new society ordered into classes based entirely on one's reproductive ability, ruled by an elite few who are in total power. Those elite few have managed to infiltrate ordinary American society and upend the government, media, and pretty much every single aspect of daily life by brute force and inhumane tactics. Oh yeah, they're also fucking crazy and justify every reprehensible act they commit as a return to the original order of life, that is, one that attempts to follow a pretty perverted version of The Old Testament, with some St. Paul thrown in for good measure (he's the only New Testament figure I can think of that's mentioned in the book). The book is a critique of religious extremism that reduces women's roles to servitude; I'd contend that its aim is not to criticize any one specific religion, or even religion in general.

The story is told through Offred, a woman who is a Handmaid. As a handmaid, Offred belongs to a class of women designated to have sex with the military officers of the ruling class whose wives are unable to conceive. The Ceremony, as it's referred to, is the most depressing sex scene ever described on page: it involves the Handmaid, the Wife, and the Commander, but it is by no means a wild kinky time. It's an interpretation of the biblical story of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar. If you aren't familiar, Abraham is remembered as the father of Hebrew lineage. His wife, Sarah, was unable to conceive, so with God's permission, Sarah gave her Egyptian handmaid, Hagar, to Abraham to use as a concubine. Hagar bore Ishmael, who played a pretty big role in the start of Islam. In the time just before Gilead was instituted, infertility seemed to be becoming a widespread problem in America. Handmaids are an invaluable but subservient class of women in Gilead; they live in the house of the Wife and Commander to whom they serve, but they are allowed virtually no personal freedom and are under constant watch by everyone else in the household. Handmaids aren't even given real names - the names they have are a composite of the word "Of" and the first name of the Commander they serve. Hence, "Offred" is a servant of Fred and his wife, Serena Joy, a woman who was a televangelist in the time before Gilead.

Have I lost you yet? A lot of this information is revealed slowly over the course of several chapters (fear not, I'm not spoiling anything - this is all back story that's explained as it's interwoven with the plot). Margaret Atwood is an incredibly skilled storyteller; she immerses you in this horrific world where hope for a normal life is all but forgotten, yet there's just enough plot development to keep the reader guessing where the story will go. The Handmaid's Tale has several chilling aspects, but the most frightening part is that the transformation from America to Gilead is an all-too-recent memory for several of the characters.

You see, The Handmaid's Tale does not describe a culture that's been ingrained in the population for several decades, or even years; when the story opens, it has been roughly 3 years since the new regime was implemented. Offred's longing for the way things used to be is palpable. She misses her husband, her daughter, her feminist mother, her lesbian best friend, the ability to hold a job, to read and write, human touch, communication beyond the accepted formalities of Gilead, having an opinion, and being regarded as more than a viable set of ovaries. Offred misses choices, freedom, her real name, and a million other things she took for granted in her former life.

The Handmaid's Tale is, in a word, excellent. Even though it was written over 20 years ago and heavily references the 80's, it manages to avoid feeling dated. It touches on so many issues still pertinent to women today, the most obvious one being the argument that the extent to which a woman controls her body determines the amount of control she has over her life. I feel that abortion is harped on so frequently and the argument is often relegated into two mutually exclusive groups, the larger picture - namely, society's treatment of women - is oft ignored. There are glaring similarities between the conservative politicians who act in the best interest of unborn children rather than the personal rights of women, and the ways in which Gilead reveres the womb yet ignores the person who actually carries a child. It's a little appalling that the critique of religious fanaticism still feels entirely relevant, but that's a reflection of our current culture, not the book.