Ordinary, said Aunt Lydia, is what you are used to. This may not seem ordinary to you now, but after a time it will. It will become ordinary.
…
A rat in a maze is free to go anywhere, as long as it stays inside the maze.
…
Better never means better for everyone, he says. It always means worse, for some.

Review after rereading:
I decided to reread The Handmaid’s Tale after the US Supreme Court issued its Dobbs decision overruling Roe v. Wade. I mean, most people read this novel and see a dystopian horror. But clearly too many people, as you’re reading this review, are tirelessly working to make the Republic of Gilead—and it’s Christian Fascist regime—real, and to give the government full control over women and their bodies.

As the Historical Notes at the end of The Handmaid’s Tale make clear, Gilead itself is based on several very real societies—Iran after the Islamic Revolution (the only difference between their real theocracy and Gilead’s is the religious text being imposed), 1980s Romania, with an East German-style police state mixed in. I was not originally a big fan of the Historical Notes section, but it grew on me upon rereading the novel, as it makes explicit some of the historical underpinnings that Offred’s limited view would have been unable to make herself: “As I have said elsewhere, there was little that was truly original with or indigenous to Gilead: its genius was synthesis.”

The Handmaid’s Tale is a first-person account of the early days of the Republic of Gilead, the Christian Fascist regime that took power in the former United States after widespread assassination of government leaders. The story is told by a 33-year-old woman known only as Offred, a Handmaid assigned to one of the Commanders as literal breeding stock. There are other roles for women in Gilead—Aunts, Marthas, Wives, Unwomen—all with differing degrees of complicity for what has come to pass. Offred tells stories of her daily life, interspersed with flashbacks to “the time before,” and what it was like to be a woman—daughter, lover, mother—when she had free will. Offred lives in a world of ambiguity, never knowing what happened to her husband Luke, her daughter, her friend Moira. There is a resistance, maybe, but it’s almost impossible because it’s impossible to know who’s a spy and who can be trusted. The parallels to the novel  1984, with the inability for a person to know what’s true and what’s propaganda, are obvious. And that uncertainty extends to the reader, who can never be certain of Offred’s ultimate fate.

So why do so many people love The Handmaid’s Tale so much? Well, for starters the writing in The Handmaid’s Tale is brilliant, spare yet evocative: “Everything except the wings around my face is red: the color of blood, which defines us.” As a matter of world building, the novel works by slowly detailing how Gilead operates—the Guardians and the Eye, the Colonies and the Unwomen, the Birthmobile, the Unbabies, the Prayvaganza, the Underground Femaleroad, Jezebel’s, the Salvaging and the Particicution. I think what still makes the novel so powerful is its timeless observations about people. The complicity of some women and some races in the subjugation of others. How all of the women, and even most if not all of the men, ultimately lose many of their freedoms in such a system.

But what started, perhaps, as satire or as a thought experiment—what might cause a Christian Fascist regime to take power in the United States, and what would that look like—now just looks prescient. I never thought I’d read a novel as darkly, disturbingly powerful as  1984. But The Handmaid’s Tale is cut from the same cloth. A truly great novel that should be read by everyone, while still can.

Original Review:

My name isn't Offred, I have another name, which nobody uses now because it's forbidden. I tell myself it doesn't matter, your name is like your telephone number, useful only to others; but what I tell myself is wrong, it does matter. I keep the knowledge of this name like something hidden, some treasure I'll come back to dig up, one day. I think of this name as buried. This name has an aura around it, like an amulet, some charm that's survived from an unimaginably distant past. I lie in my single bed at night, with my eyes closed, and the name floats there behind my eyes, not quite within reach, shining in the dark.

There were some parts of The Handmaid’s Tale that I could quibble with. I didn’t love the Historical Notes section at the end of the novel. It added a few details, but I thought it detracted to end the book not with Offred. And while there’s a lot of satisfying world-building here, there’s not a lot of plot in this story. Finally, I just cannot believe that such a world—with all of its established customs—could spring up within less than 10 years of the modern world. It was required to allow Offred to have the flashbacks to our world, but it feels false.

But in the end, these quibbles are minor. Offred’s story is compelling and deeply unsettling, and I loved the ambiguity of the ending (before the Historical Notes). In The Handmaid’s Tale, Ms. Atwood has created a believable anti-feminist dystopia that feels not just real, but absolutely plausible in a very near-future sort of way. I mean, the novel become a literal symbol at this point, which is an extraordinary achievement for any novel or author. A definite must-read, especially in today’s political climate, and that will stay with you long after you finish reading it.

06/27/2022 Update - so it’s been 5 years since I originally read Handmaid’s Tale. I remember thinking at the time how hyperbolic people were to compare our world to a book so dark and dystopian. Recent events have proven these folks were right all along.

In the book, the government is overthrown by insurrection almost identical to what was attempted on January 6th. If the mob managed to hang who they wanted and if the disgraced pres had gotten the military support he wanted, our democracy would be gone. We dodged a bullet, but obviously the war is not over. They got really, really, really close last time to overthrowing the United States, and the next time is going to be even more aggressive.

So I feel Atwood deserves more recognition than I originally gave her. It’s not easy to write something that’s literal prophecy. And to those who are pro-insurrection, you should read this book to see how miserable EVERYONE is. They get the power and have so little to show for it. There’s a reason why nobody says “The Middle Ages” when asked what time they would travel back to if they could. Even if you’re the emperor king, everything sucks.


Original review:

I love Margaret Atwood and I love this book - mostly. The world creation is fantastic and the writing is to die for. All the characters are rich. I'd heard of this book as a feminism call to action which is what I was hoping for but it's not really. Life sucks for everyone in this creepy cult society.

It took a while to get interesting and so much is left to the imagination that it left me thirsty for more. I've gotten through the first two episodes of the tv series and I feel like it already covered all the major plot points. Curious what they'll add because the book does invite the reader to fill in the blanks. Could be a rare situation where the show is better than the book.

As far as dystopian novels go I wouldn't call it my favorite but it's certainly well imagined and a disturbing reminder of how frightening society can become under pressure.

Arduous read. Nebulous, implausible premise. Unlikable characters. Inferior execution.

The lack of quotation marks and other punctuation is jarring and only sows confusion. Dialogue interspersed in text is lethargic. The narrative is already sluggish; the failure to delineate what’s happening now and what is a flashback is a hallmark of the impotence that epitomizes this book.

Perhaps the writer would have been better off writing about the evils of actual sharia law. Her attempts to iterate her projectionist fears simply collapse. Waiting as long as she does to drop the Fuck bomb isn’t powerful; it has about as much shock value as a Marilyn Manson concert.

The events that lead to Gilead strain all credulity. While it’s doubtful that fleshing these ruminations out further would do much to aid the plot, at least they might feel less like feeble stabs in the dark.

It’s unclear if we are supposed to question Offred’s sanity. When disturbing events occur and she finds them hilarious, it translates as sociopathic.

Offred explaining how Luke refers to their cat as an “it,” and the context in which this transpires, is unintentionally and bitterly ironic.

Concluding in a cliffhanger does not work in this work. It falls flat on its face.

“Nothing changes instantaneously…” unless it’s in this story—then the world inexplicably changes on a dime.

“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum.” I don’t think she’ll need any assistance with that.

Referencing Jews in literal ovens (concentration camps) and then in the same chapter using the word “oven” in a sexual play on words is one of the more heinous and anti-Semitic things I have read.

“Better never means better for everyone, he says. It always means worse for some.”

What a powerful and frightening dystopia! The Handmaid’s Tale has been on my radar for a long time, having recently watched the television series adaption I got around to reading it, and it was just as haunting as I expected!
A world where women cannot own money, or property, where they are used purely for their abilities to bear children. Noting comparisons with this world and the one we live in now was very concerning.
The religious overtones were done well - realising how the leaders would pick and choose scriptures, altering them and in places just making up their own entirely to push their agendas.

“Nothing changes instantaneously: in a gradually heating bathtub you’d be boiled to death before you knew it.”

Offred is a handmaiden to a commander and his wife. Once a month she is required to sleep with the commander, an event known as the ‘Ceremony’ in an attempt to get pregnant, as in this world birth rates have dropped, with very low chances of health to the babies that do survive pregnancy.
I am glad I watched the series, as the disjointed narrative and lack of clarification would have meant I couldn’t follow or understand what was happening and why. Also there are a lot of parts left open, which for me added to the fear factor.
A horrifyingly appropriate read, and one that will continue to raise questions and remain relevant for a long time.

“I’m sorry there is so much pain in this story. I’m sorry it’s in fragments, like a body caught in crossfire or pulled apart by force. But there is nothing I can do to change it.”

i am a massive scaredy cat. and as i rule, i avoid all things horrifying, frightening, spooky, and anything else that will give me nightmares. so this book came as an absolute shock. i am terrified. right down to my bones.

how can i be so fascinated by this kind of society, but also repulsed by it at the same time?

why do i feel confident that something like this could never happen, but also have a voice in the back of my mind whispering, ‘are you really so sure?’

what makes me want to never think about this book again, but also know that its the kind of story that will forever haunt me?

i. am. worried.
but note to self:
nolite te bastardes carborundorum.

↠ 4.5 stars

n  Nolite te bastardes carborundorum, bitches.n

The first time I tried to read The Handmaid’s Tale, I threw the book aside in exasperation after about 80 pages. Nothing freakin’ happened. There was absolutely no action, no sense of movement. It was colorless, bland, and interminably BORING. However, on giving it a second chance, I believe that this sluggish atmosphere of stale, static tedium was actually an integral part of Atwood’s point: when you strip away the basic human rights of half the population, reality becomes monotonous and intolerable, artificial, strained, and undeniably foul. And make no mistake, it’s that way for everyone. Everyone suffers in that kind of corrosive environment.

But the dismal climate of subjugation and fear was in fact only part of what Atwood generated here. Underneath all the muzzle-induced docility, there was a blistering profusion of stifled, internalized rage and tension:

n  “You can wet the rim of a glass and run your finger around the rim and it will make a sound. This is what I feel like: this sound of glass. I feel like the word shatter.”n

And it was that charged, savage undercurrent, combined with the almost harrowing sense of inertia, that made this such an exceedingly uncomfortable reading experience. Like the handmaids, you feel entirely suffocated and restrained, and this agonizing sensation produces the overwhelming urge to yell or break something, to lash out, to simply move.

n  “And there is so much time to be endured, time heavy as fried food or thick fog; and then all at once these red events, like explosions, on streets otherwise decorous and matronly and somnambulant.”n

Atwood ignites in the reader a painful demand, a certain ravenous need, for more red events. A need for action, violence, and ferocity, for life and air. That need is fundamental, and seems to hold true for all living things; we don’t much care for cages. This is why the book still has such a powerfully compelling voice, and why that voice will continue to be heard, recognized, and acknowledged.

n  “You must cultivate poverty of spirit, said Aunt Lydia. Blessed are the meek. She didn’t go on to say anything about inheriting the earth.”n

Ehh, being “blessed” is overrated. I’ll take freedom any day.

I wish I could say this book isn't relevant anymore. I wish I could read The Handmaid's Tale and not see the very real possibility that this could be our future.

This reality, however, is unfolding in the United States. The year is 2022 and this book has never been more hard-hitting. In Texas, abortion is considered murder. Private citizens can report anyone if they are suspected of helping someone get an abortion. That could mean an Uber driver, a doctor, anyone involved. In Georgia, basic reproductive rights are taken away. Certain political leaders - I think you know who I'm referring to here - have genuinely considered, and enacted, bills that take away bodily autonomy. Then they pretend they have the moral high ground, something that is hauntingly reflected in this book. We look to the future and hope it is bright, but the fact is that forced pregnancies are no longer purely dystopian.

How long before this spreads to the entire country? How long before we look to the past, as Offred does, and ache for liberties long lost?

This book is horrifying, but I am unfortunately not surprised by any of it. This future doesn't seem far off anymore. I hope that one day I can truly say that we have moved past this possibility of a government, ruling by fear and oppression, that sees women as nothing more than baby-making machines.

5 stars

n  But who can remember pain, once it’s over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.n

English (The Handmaid's Tale) / Italiano

«We slept in what had once been the gymnasium»

Dystopian sci-fi, set in a future in which the US Government was overthrown in favour of the Republic of Galaad, an oligarchic regime laying down drastic measures to counteract the zero-growth of the world's population. First and foremost, the female subjugation, sired for reproduction.

I decided to read the novel after watching the TV series. I regret to say that without the TV series, I wouldn't understand certain points in the book. However some ideas make me question a lot of things, in particular the the human race.

«You will never be subject to the temptation or feeling you must forgive, a man, as a woman. But remember that forgiveness too is a power. To beg for it is a power, and to withhold or bestow it is a power, perhaps the greatest»

In certain places this novel scares the reader. There is reference in the text to an interview with the wife of an executive of a concentration camp.

«"He was not a monster", she said. "People say he was a monster, but he was not one". How easy it is to invent a humanity, for anyone at all. What an available temptation. Because otherwise how could she have kept on living?»

The question has just about bounced off in the brain, but the end of the episode comes concise:

«Several days after this interview with her was filmed, she killed herself»

Although I did not love the twisted writing of Margaret Atwood, I must admit that I read a good book, capable of terrorizing those readers who empathize with the story.

«You might even provide a Heaven for them. We need You for that. Hell we can make for ourselves»

Here we go. Human condition summarized in one line.

Vote: 7.5

«Si dormiva in quella che un tempo era la palestra»

Fantascienza distopica, ambientata in un futuro in cui il governo degli Stati Uniti è stato rovesciato a favore della Repubblica di Galaad, un regime oligarchico che adotta misure drastiche a seguito dello stato di crescita zero della popolazione mondiale. Prima fra tutte la sottomissione della donna, asservita per scopi riproduttivi.

Ho scelto di leggere il libro dopo aver visto la serie televisiva, e purtroppo devo dire che se non lo avessi fatto, non avrei capito alcuni passaggi del romanzo. Tuttavia ci sono spunti che fanno riflettere fin troppo, frasi che rimangono impresse.

«Non sarai mai soggetto alla tentazione del perdono, tu uomo, come lo sarà una donna. Ricorda però che anche il perdono è un potere. Chiederlo è un potere, e negarlo o concederlo è un potere, forse il più grande»

In alcuni passi questo romanzo spaventa. Nel testo a un certo punto si fa riferimento ad un intervista alla moglie di un dirigente di un campo di concentramento.

« "Non era un mostro, la gente non fa che ripetere che era un mostro, ma non lo era" Com'è facile attribuire un umanità a un essere qualsiasi, che tentazione a portata di mano. Perché altrimenti come avrebbe potuto continuare a vivere?»

La domanda non fa a tempo a rimbalzare nel cervello, che arriva, lapidaria, la fine dell'aneddoto:

«Qualche giorno dopo l'intervista, si era uccisa»

Pur non avendo amato il modo di scrivere di Margaret Atwood, che ho trovato piuttosto contorto e poco diretto, ammetto che siamo davanti comunque a un gran bel libro, capace di terrorizzare quei lettori che si calano a fondo nell'ambientazione.

«Per il Paradiso abbiamo bisogno di Te. L'Inferno ce lo possiamo fare da soli»

Ecco. La condizione umana riassunta in una riga.

Voto: 7,5

This book is a bomb.

With its poetic prose, palpable mood, and oh-so-grey characters, it's obvious why The Handmaid's Tale is considered a classic. Yet in today's world it's still massively appealing, with the voice and dystopic world showing immediate similarities to popular stories like The Hunger Games, but with narration that's two steps above. Reading it during the election was hauntingly surreal, as Americans took a staunchly misogynistic stance that seemed like the natural origin for this story.

Unfortunately, to me, The Handmaid's Tale is a tease more than anything. Margaret Atwood, at times, dangles something resembling a plot in the midst of a scene, and try as I did to latch onto it, the plot is a lie, constantly going nowhere, like the imprisoned protagonist, culminating on a vague but bleak note that's only notable in how much it DOESN'T say.

As far as I can tell, the protagonist--if you can even call her that--has one goal: to die. Margaret Atwood goes to great lengths to show all the measures the regime takes to prevent Handmaids from commuting suicide. And yet, several of them do, and the opportunities for Offred to take her own life are nearly endless. Still, she never does. Even though Margaret Atwood never gives her an existential reason for living, for telling her tale, and yet she does anyway.

A good story is like a wave, constantly moving, with ups and downs. But The Handmaid's Tale is mostly a steady low. While it's definitely a work of art, it doesn't feel like a traditional story. Not only is Offred imprisoned--her story literally stuck in the same place--but also she's forever trapped at an emotional low. Her stagnant nature makes her life seem less like a story and more like a sculpture. While interesting and very well crafted, I'm not convinced it merits 12 hours of admiration in the form of reading, when even the Statue or David rarely keeps viewers interested for more than a few minutes.

Consider this not a ground-breaking work of literature. Consider this not a piece of fiction boasting an avant-garde mode of narration.
Consider it not a commentary on the concept of subjugation of the weak by the ones holding the reins. Consider it not a thinly veiled feminist diatribe either.

Instead, consider The Handmaid's Tale an almost physical experience. Consider Margaret Atwood a fearless deliverer of unpleasant news - a messenger unafraid of dishing out the bone-chilling, cruel, unaltered truth and nothing but the truth.

Move over Bram Stoker. Move over H.P. Lovecraft. Fade away into oblivion, Edgar Allan Poe. Disappear down the depths of obscurity, Stephen King. Your narratives are not nearly as coldly brutal, your premonitions not nearly as portentous.
Because Ms Atwood, presents to us something so truly disturbing in the garb of speculative fiction that it reminds one of Soviet-era accounts of quotidian hardships in Gulag labour camps.

Speculative is it?

Aren't the Offreds (Of Fred) , Ofglens (Of Glen), Of warrens (Of Warren) of Gilead equivalent to the Mrs So-and-So-s of the present, reduced to the identity of their male partners? Isn't the whittling down of a woman to the net worth of her reproductive organs and her outer appearance an accepted social more? Isn't blaming the rape victim, causing her to bear the burden of unwarranted shame and social stigma a familiar tactic employed by the defense attorney?
Hasn't the 21st century witnessed the fate of Savita Halappanavars who are led to their untimely deaths by inhumane laws of nations still unwilling to acknowledge the importance of the life of a mother over her yet unborn child?
Doesn't the 21st century have materially prosperous nations governed by absurd, archaic laws which prohibit a woman from driving a car?
Doesn't the world still take pleasure in terrorizing activists like Caroline Criado-Perez with threats of rape and murder only because they have the audacity to campaign for female literary icons (Jane Austen) to become the face of Britain's 10-pound note?
Do I not live in a country where female foeticide is as normal an occurrence as the rising and setting of the sun?

Are we still calling this speculative fiction?

Some may wish to labour under the delusion that the women belonging to this much vaunted modern civilization of ours are not experiencing the same nightmare as Offred and are at perfect liberty to do what they desire. But I will not.
Because when I look carefully, I notice shackles encircling my feet, my hands, my throat, my womb, my mind. Shackles whose presence I have become so used to since the dawn of time, that I no longer possess the ability to discern between willful submission and conditioned subservience.

But thankfully enough, I have Margaret Atwood to jolt me back into consciousness and to will me to believe that I am chained, bound and gagged. That I still need to break free.
I thank her for making me shudder with indignation, revulsion and righteous anger. I thank her for causing bile to rise up my throat.
And I thank her for forcing me to see that women of the present do live in a dystopia like Offred's United States of America. We just prefer to remain blissfully blind to this fact at times.

n  Disclaimer:-n I mean no disrespect to the other writers mentioned in this review all of whom I have read and deeply admire.

To prawdopodobnie jedna z najważniejszych książek o byciu kobietą, jakie miałam okazję czytać.