Book of Lives

Another quite big brick of a book and another surprisingly speedy read (well, Margaret Atwood is a very good writer). I have been an Atwood reader for most of my adult life. The Handmaid's Tale blew my mind very soon after it was published and I was captivated by Cat's Eye, with its tale of childhood bullying. I faithfully bought and excitedly read the big thick novels that followed: The Robber Bride, Alias Grace and The Blind Assassin, but I think The Blind Assassin must have exhausted me or else I ran out of time for big thick novels because I dropped off after that. I did try Oryx and Crake (which began life in Australia as Emu and Crake) but at the time it didn't engage me. The good news is that I now have several Margaret Atwood books still waiting patiently for me to plunge into.

Atwood's life makes for an interesting story in itself. Famously her naturalist father carted the family into the wilderness for half of every year, which left Atwood with a legacy of environmental awareness and a love of birds in particular. She writes enjoyably about the beginnings of the Canadian literature scene, which I imagine has a lot of parallels to the Australian situation -- it was difficult to persuade publishers to risk printing local stories, and aspiring writers were advised to try their luck in the UK or USA (sadly, I fear that 'global' appeal is again becoming a requirement for publishers to risk their money).

The latter part of Book of Lives is overshadowed by the decline and death of Atwood's second husband, Graeme; another story of grief and mourning. It's remarkable to think that Atwood is now in her late eighties, and yet she is as sharp or sharper than she ever was, making films during Covid and still experimenting. I suppose we might not have her for much longer, but what a blessing to have this chunky, rich and funny memoir from a real literary legend before she leaves us.