Retro Review: The Handmaid's Tale

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

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4 stars. What can be said about this book that hasn't already been said? It's awkward to even attempt an analysis - I doubt I could draw a unique conclusion from The Handmaid's Tale even if I spent years trying. Not only has this book been picked apart word by word since its publication, it's also a fairly easy book to analyze. The message is clear. The message is loud.

And yet ... one size does not fit all. The beauty of this book - of all books, really - is that every single reader can interpret something entirely different. What I found to be a deafening warning could be an ideal aspiration for another. Let's hope not, but it could be.

Rather than jump into all the pushing and shoving, instead of extrapolating comprehensively about the overarching themes of this book, I'll just point out a few things that stuck with me, with me personally, when I finished reading it.

First of all, men are barely in this book. We have male characters, and it would seem that a primary focus of the new society is the relationship between men and women. But our protagonist attaches much more significance to the actions of women. She observes more closely - and is much more critical of - the behavior of her female counterparts. This does not mean that she discounts the importance of men; she acknowledges her need and desire for them and also the fact that she is oppressed by them. But complacency comes in many forms, and the women of Gilead, under Atwood's eye, are guilty of oppression just as much as the men are.

Secondly, Atwood's choice of the color red is brilliant. Red symbolizes anger, lust, sin, sexual sin specifically, and adultery. It's also visually striking - the opposite of camouflage. It can be powerful and attractive and distinctive. It's intense. The color red, though, also symbolizes menstruation and fertility - holiness, in the eyes of Gilead's society. Here Atwood demonstrates the hypocrisy of this society's "ideals."

Lastly (and I know this isn't a particularly unique response - see first paragraph above), my reaction to this book was incredibly emotional. I suppose at the end of the day, upon finishing the epilogue, I felt ... hurt. My feeling were hurt. I know that seems lame and petty and like something a twelve-year-old would say, but I felt the accuracy of Atwood's forecast and I felt the fear and the pain and the idea of "wow, I can see this happening."

Disclaimer: I am extremely lucky and have been afforded a tremendous amount of privilege in my life. I do not mean to position myself as a victim. But I'm a woman, so I have faced and will always face the risk of being considered "less." Reading this book triggered a lot of feelings about that, but under all the anger and fury and resentment and determination, it just fucking hurt.

Remember when I said that there is pretty much no room for commentary on this book because it's so universally-analyzed? Whoops. Bottom line: this is one of the most important books of all time and everyone should read it.

The Handmaid's Tale on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Valley of the Dolls

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3 stars. Well, isn't this just the tangy, sour glass of lemonade I've been looking for since spring turned to summer.

At first glance, this book, which follows three women as they navigate a merciless and drug-fueled entertainment industry in the 40s and 50s, feels very ahead of its time. The men and the women are equally complex and equally capable of heartfelt good and destructive evil. It explores gender and identity and relationships with a sharp and witty voice that felt especially relevant in the wake of the #metoo movement (yes, fifty years later and not much has changed). I'm not surprised Susann's painfully realistic depiction of sex and sexuality was labeled as "dirty" and slapped with censors. 

Yes, it's mesmerizing, entertaining, witty and rings very true. When the publisher gave the manuscript to his wife to read, she famously said, "I feel like I picked up the phone and I was listening in on a conversation of women talking about how their husbands are in bed. Who would hang up on a conversation like that?" I totally reveled in the juicy bits and enjoyed the lightly-veiled references.

But overall it wasn't, for me, a particular fun or enjoyable book to read. I absolutely adored it and I am in awe of the unusual plotting, but I felt tight with tension throughout the first three quarters, vibrating like a plucked string or taut rubber band. I believe this is because, as a woman, I could feel that under the polka dots and the champagne and the boisterous appeal of show business in the 50s, I was watching a tragedy unfold.

Back before the age when all of us women heaved a collective sigh and admitted, with a combination of fear and relief, that we can't indeed "have it all," there were many Annes, many Jennifers, and many Neelys. Chewed up and spat out by the world - by the men of the world, in most cases. But this is not the tragedy to which I refer. The tragedy is that many of these women, knowingly or unknowingly, jumped into the mouth themselves. 

Valley of the Dolls, much to the delight of its fame-hungry author, will have a legacy as long as its in print. I think it very admirably says a lot, almost unintentionally, about ... well, a lot. But I can't ignore the simmering anger I felt upon finishing. Men are rats. Fleas on rats. And so are women. The end.

Valley of the Dolls on: Amazon | Goodreads

List: 5 Classics

I guess the word “classic” is a bit subjective; I would consider the following books to be among the most important ever:

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A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens | A love triangle (lol, I oversimplify plots like nobody's business!) unfolds during the Reign of Terror. So much has been written about Dickens - I won't bore you with what this book is (INCREDIBLE, IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING); I'll tell you what it isn't: it isn't boring, it isn't lame or dry. In weaving thousands of stories together with his words Dickens creates a soul-wrenching heartbreaker that everyone should read. Amazon | Goodreads


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Lord of the Flies by William Golding | Everybody read this in school, right? Need a refresher? A plane crashes on an isolated island and a group of schoolboys must learn to survive without society's influence. This book offers a particularly intense and unsettling reading experience, but its message rings, to me, so true, and so powerful. A particularly disturbing aspect of the story is that you can apply its allegory to almost any period in global history, proving the idea that some forms of evil are innate, deep-seated, and not to be ignored. Amazon | Goodreads


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Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen | Arguably the least depressing story on this list (whoops), this romance tells the tale of Elizabeth Bennett and her family as they navigate life, love, and loss in historical England. I realize it's an understatement to call this book a classic but truly - it's all there. Austen is a witty and sharp writer who just ... fucking ... gets ... people. She's a rock star and deserves every ounce of respect she's earned. Amazon | Goodreads


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The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck | The Joads, a farm family from Oklahoma, migrate west during the Great Depression. Despite having read this years ago, the tragedy of this book continues to wriggle and worm its way into the way I look at America today. It's almost the opposite of Lord of the Flies in that it paints a portrait of innate goodness - compassion, kindness, perseverance and hope. It paints a portrait of simple people pursuing - fighting for - a simple life. It paints a portrait of America as a great disappointment and I can't help but feel like while we should have learned from it, we didn't. Amazon | Goodreads


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The Scarlet Letter by Nathanial Hawthorne | In seventeenth-century Massachusetts, woman named Hester Prynn is punished for having a child out of wedlock. It is important to note that her lover remains unidentified and safe. It is also important to note that this book could be a lot better; it's not the most well-written or the most progressive and it doesn't necessarily address its themes in a broad and satisfying way. But it's a significant read for me because it taught me - at the age of 14 - how woman are almost universally punished for having sex. Amazon | Goodreads