"It's loss and regret and misery and yearning that drive the story forward", writes Margaret Atwood, towards the end of her impressive and complex new novel, The Blind Assassin. It's a melancholic account of why writers write--and readers read--and one that frames the different lives told through this book. The Blind Assassin is (at least) two novels. At the end of her life, Iris Griffen takes up her pen to record the secret history of her family, the romantic melodrama of its decline and fall between the two world wars. Conjuring a world of prosperity and misery, marriage and loneliness, the central enigma of Iris's tale is the death of her sister, Laura Chase, who "drove a car off a bridge" at the end of the Second World War. Suicide or accident? The story gradually unfolds, interspersed with sketches of Iris's present-day life--confined by age and ill-health--and a second novel, The Blind Assassin by Laura Chase. Allowing a glimpse into a clandestine love affair between a privileged young woman and a radical "agitator" on the run, this version of The Blind Assassin is an overt act of seduction: the exchange of sex and story about an imaginary world of Sakiel-Norn (a play with the potential, and convention, of fantasy and sci-fi).

With the intelligence, subtlety and remarkable characterisation associated with Atwood's writing (from her first novel, The Edible Woman through to the best-selling Alias Grace), these two stories play with one another--sustaining an uncertainty about who has done what to whom and why to the very end of this compelling book. --Vicky Lebeau This review refers to the hardcover edition of this title.

A compelling read, 06 Jan 2009
The blind assassin is a compelling read, leaving you gripped to practically every word. Atwood has the innate ability to keep her readers in suspense and yet still keep the momentum of the story going. Iris Griffen the focal character writes in intimate detail the background and history of her once prestigious family and its unfortunate demise. By doing so, Iris dragged up in her endeavour the mystery and clandestine past that had surrounded a death in her family, a death which had followed her for the majority of her adult life. This novel is not only thrilling and intriguing but utterly believable. Margaret Atwood truly grasps human emotion; her empathic nature completely makes the protagonist both credible and authentic, she is able to express the views of both the young and the elderly to exact precision. Atwood keeps the mystique of the story by the juxtaposition of the different points of view throughout the tale and the different time frames. It is clear a great deal of research has been put into the completion of the book, her understanding of social history throughout both the 19th and 20th centuries is quite clear which just makes the story even more realistic. However, following the text can become perplexing at times with the lack of quotation marks, as you can lose track of where a conversation is going or who said what within the discussion, another problem that occurs when reading the novel is that you are not always immediately sure, from whose point of view you are reading but it does soon become clear and when you manage to come to terms with these minor obstacles I'm sure that most people will find it, as I did, a thoroughly enjoyable read.

From Buttons to Bestsellers, 08 Nov 2008
This is a tricky one. There's no doubting Atwood's ability as a writer; her prose is consistently elegant (although I do have a few reservations about some incongruous vernacular, such as the repeated use of the word "nicked" when describing theft, but perhaps I'm being picky), and her descriptive powers are notable. The problem I have with this work is that it lacks synergy. Quite the opposite is in fact the case, with the whole falling short of the sum of the parts.

As a dynastic record, following the ups and downs of the prominent Canadian family at the book's core, the novel works well in an episodic way. The two sister's lives are chronicled with wit and poignancy. There is, however, a good deal of predictability to their fates. This is the story of a privileged family behaving in a manner to which most readers will be accustomed. Because of this familiarity the novel as a whole is not as successful as it might have been. There's much to recommend this book but there could have been so much more.

As an overall package this book warrants three stars, but, due to the high quality of the writing it earns four.

Blindingly beautiful, 09 Aug 2008
The Blind Assassin is spellbinding, haunting and bewitching. Atwood's gloriously conrolled use of poignant and delicate prose encapsulates love, passion and loss throughout three time periods with a true understanding of the human spirit which makes for a timeless and unforgetable piece of literature.
Not since Guy de Maupassant has an author managed to so untterly captivate my imagination and utterly absorb me into their imaginings. Atwood's intricately constructed narrative weaves seamlessly in and out of time and landscape involving the reader so intensely it is almost disappointing when the story finally reaches it's powerfully emotional conclusion. The novel is not only readable, it is hard not to be 'read' back by it; the characters are not only so beautifully defined as to be believed but are also so real as to be empathised with.
I was sorry to finish this book, it left me breathless and moved in a way that few others before have managed and deserves to become a 'classic' in every sense of the word.

An enduring masterpiece, 24 Mar 2008
Sometimes, when reading a big book, one gets the feeling that the author set out to achieve size, as if that in itself might suggest certain adjectives from a reader or reviewer - weighty, significant, deep, serious, complex, extensive, perhaps. Sometimes - rarely, in fact - one reads a big book and becomes lost in its size, lost in the sense that one ceases to notice the hundreds passing by, as the work creates its own time, defines its own experience, shares its own world. Even then, reaching the end can often be merely trite, just a running out of steam, the process thoroughly engaging, the product, however, something of a let down. Rarely, very rarely indeed, one reads a big book that actually needs its size, justifies itself, continues to surprise as well as enchant and then, finally, stuns. Margaret Atwood's Blind Assassin is such a book, a giant in every sense, a masterpiece beyond question.

Blind Assassin was awarded the Booker prize in 2000 and charts intersecting histories of two well-to-do Canadian families, Chase and Griffen. The two Chase sisters, Iris and Laura, are quite different people. Born into the relative opulence of a Canadian manufacturing family, they have a private education of sorts, experienced throughout and yet alongside something vaguely like a childhood. Various aspects of twentieth century history impinge upon their lives and eventually force their family to reassess its status. Economic downturn, war and family tragedy take their toll on the father, who becomes less able to manage either his own life or his business. Something has to give. Ways of coping must be found.

Iris, the elder sister, is the first person narrator of about half of the book, the other half being devoted to a book within a book, a novel in the name of Laura, the younger sister. This novel, entitled The Blind Assassin, is an eclectic mix of experience, sex, fantasy and politics. It has made a name for Laura and retains a significant cult following many years after its publication. Laura, herself, died in a car accident. She drove off a bridge into a ravine. The car belonged to Iris. There was never any real explanation for the event.

Iris, meanwhile, has been married off to an older man, a Griffen, who seems to treat her like so much chattel. But then he is an industrialist with the wherewithal, not to mention capital, to assist the bride's family business in its time of need. Iris, therefore, experiences the Canadian equivalent of an arranged marriage. Perhaps the word marriage is a little overstated. The partnership could be better described as a merger, or a union, if that were not a dirty word because of its political connotation.

And so the octogenarian Iris, clearly anticipating the end of her days, embarks upon a cathartic outpouring of personal and family history in the hope that an estranged granddaughter might just understand a little about other peoples' motives.

The book takes us through Canada and north America, across to Europe, via an imagined universe, to political commitment, direct action and its inevitable reaction. Iris needs to write it all down. And so she works her story out, constructing it, perhaps reconstructing it, maybe inventing it from memory and relived experience against a backdrop of contemporary Canada and her own failing health. Her vulnerability, in the end, is our debt, our penance, perhaps. She is a wise old woman with much to hide, but her acerbic wit is undiminished by age, her observations of others stunningly perspicacious.

It is not often that a novel, a mere flight of another's fancy, achieves the subtle, stunning and surely enduring power of the Blind Assassin.


Uneven, and largely unnecessary..., 29 Dec 2007
I really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale and, while I normally steer away from Booker prizewinners, I decided to give this a go.

It would certainly be unreasonable to deny that Atwood has a formidable command of the English language, and great skill in deploying it. There are about 7,000 metaphors and similes here, and nearly every one of them works. In that respect, I found it a surprisingly easy read, with a good flow to the prose, and a well-established context.

However, I would quibble with the idea that this is a great book. Even after 600 pages, I didn't feel I knew Iris very well - she was often an opaque figure, who really only became real when she got old and crabby. The early Iris was a blank, remote cipher. Laura was, I presume, intended to be enigmatic, but for me she held no real allure.

The narrative is odd. Considering it covers an entire life, it often dwells on the inconsequential, and skips over the important. Key events like births, weddings, deaths; these are all dispatched far too quickly. Maybe this was intentional, but it didn't read that way - it just read as uneven, and as if the reader didn't matter.

All in all, there was no dramatic tension at any point. The story drifted on, albeit that the splicing between one "story" and the other was poorly done, adding to the unevenness. I didn't really care what happened to Laura, or who was related to whom. It was all background, no foreground; and Atwood's failure to really emphasise what was important left it all feeling like a very intelligently-produced screensaver.

For me, this book is about 300 pages too long, and lacks a clear purpose. It tells of a life that has little to recommend its' telling. Maybe the Booker was a "lifetime achievement" rather than for this book alone, or maybe the Booker just goes to overrated, over-long books.

"It's loss and regret and misery and yearning that drive the story forward," writes Margaret Atwood, towards the end of her impressive and complex new novel, The Blind Assassin. It's a melancholic account of why writers write--and readers read--and one that frames the different lives told through this book. The Blind Assassin is (at least) two novels. At the end of her life, Iris Griffen takes up her pen to record the secret history of her family, the romantic melodrama of its decline and fall between the two World Wars. Conjuring a world of prosperity and misery, marriage and loneliness, the central enigma of Iris's tale is the death of her sister, Laura Chase, who "drove a car off a bridge" at the end of the Second World War. Suicide or accident? The story gradually unfolds, interspersed with sketches of Iris's present-day life--confined by age and ill-health--and a second novel, The Blind Assassin by Laura Chase. Allowing a glimpse into a clandestine love affair between a privileged young woman and a radical "agitator" on the run, this version of The Blind Assassin is an overt act of seduction: the exchange of sex and story about an imaginary world of Sakiel-Norn (a play with the potential, and convention, of fantasy and sci-fi).

With the intelligence, subtlety and remarkable characterisation associated with Atwood's writing (from her first novel, The Edible Woman through to the best-selling Alias Grace), these two stories play with one another--sustaining an uncertainty about who has done what to who and why to the very end of this compelling book. --Vicky Lebeau

A compelling read, 06 Jan 2009
The blind assassin is a compelling read, leaving you gripped to practically every word. Atwood has the innate ability to keep her readers in suspense and yet still keep the momentum of the story going. Iris Griffen the focal character writes in intimate detail the background and history of her once prestigious family and its unfortunate demise. By doing so, Iris dragged up in her endeavour the mystery and clandestine past that had surrounded a death in her family, a death which had followed her for the majority of her adult life. This novel is not only thrilling and intriguing but utterly believable. Margaret Atwood truly grasps human emotion; her empathic nature completely makes the protagonist both credible and authentic, she is able to express the views of both the young and the elderly to exact precision. Atwood keeps the mystique of the story by the juxtaposition of the different points of view throughout the tale and the different time frames. It is clear a great deal of research has been put into the completion of the book, her understanding of social history throughout both the 19th and 20th centuries is quite clear which just makes the story even more realistic. However, following the text can become perplexing at times with the lack of quotation marks, as you can lose track of where a conversation is going or who said what within the discussion, another problem that occurs when reading the novel is that you are not always immediately sure, from whose point of view you are reading but it does soon become clear and when you manage to come to terms with these minor obstacles I'm sure that most people will find it, as I did, a thoroughly enjoyable read.

From Buttons to Bestsellers, 08 Nov 2008
This is a tricky one. There's no doubting Atwood's ability as a writer; her prose is consistently elegant (although I do have a few reservations about some incongruous vernacular, such as the repeated use of the word "nicked" when describing theft, but perhaps I'm being picky), and her descriptive powers are notable. The problem I have with this work is that it lacks synergy. Quite the opposite is in fact the case, with the whole falling short of the sum of the parts.

As a dynastic record, following the ups and downs of the prominent Canadian family at the book's core, the novel works well in an episodic way. The two sister's lives are chronicled with wit and poignancy. There is, however, a good deal of predictability to their fates. This is the story of a privileged family behaving in a manner to which most readers will be accustomed. Because of this familiarity the novel as a whole is not as successful as it might have been. There's much to recommend this book but there could have been so much more.

As an overall package this book warrants three stars, but, due to the high quality of the writing it earns four.

Blindingly beautiful, 09 Aug 2008
The Blind Assassin is spellbinding, haunting and bewitching. Atwood's gloriously conrolled use of poignant and delicate prose encapsulates love, passion and loss throughout three time periods with a true understanding of the human spirit which makes for a timeless and unforgetable piece of literature.
Not since Guy de Maupassant has an author managed to so untterly captivate my imagination and utterly absorb me into their imaginings. Atwood's intricately constructed narrative weaves seamlessly in and out of time and landscape involving the reader so intensely it is almost disappointing when the story finally reaches it's powerfully emotional conclusion. The novel is not only readable, it is hard not to be 'read' back by it; the characters are not only so beautifully defined as to be believed but are also so real as to be empathised with.
I was sorry to finish this book, it left me breathless and moved in a way that few others before have managed and deserves to become a 'classic' in every sense of the word.

An enduring masterpiece, 24 Mar 2008
Sometimes, when reading a big book, one gets the feeling that the author set out to achieve size, as if that in itself might suggest certain adjectives from a reader or reviewer - weighty, significant, deep, serious, complex, extensive, perhaps. Sometimes - rarely, in fact - one reads a big book and becomes lost in its size, lost in the sense that one ceases to notice the hundreds passing by, as the work creates its own time, defines its own experience, shares its own world. Even then, reaching the end can often be merely trite, just a running out of steam, the process thoroughly engaging, the product, however, something of a let down. Rarely, very rarely indeed, one reads a big book that actually needs its size, justifies itself, continues to surprise as well as enchant and then, finally, stuns. Margaret Atwood's Blind Assassin is such a book, a giant in every sense, a masterpiece beyond question.

Blind Assassin was awarded the Booker prize in 2000 and charts intersecting histories of two well-to-do Canadian families, Chase and Griffen. The two Chase sisters, Iris and Laura, are quite different people. Born into the relative opulence of a Canadian manufacturing family, they have a private education of sorts, experienced throughout and yet alongside something vaguely like a childhood. Various aspects of twentieth century history impinge upon their lives and eventually force their family to reassess its status. Economic downturn, war and family tragedy take their toll on the father, who becomes less able to manage either his own life or his business. Something has to give. Ways of coping must be found.

Iris, the elder sister, is the first person narrator of about half of the book, the other half being devoted to a book within a book, a novel in the name of Laura, the younger sister. This novel, entitled The Blind Assassin, is an eclectic mix of experience, sex, fantasy and politics. It has made a name for Laura and retains a significant cult following many years after its publication. Laura, herself, died in a car accident. She drove off a bridge into a ravine. The car belonged to Iris. There was never any real explanation for the event.

Iris, meanwhile, has been married off to an older man, a Griffen, who seems to treat her like so much chattel. But then he is an industrialist with the wherewithal, not to mention capital, to assist the bride's family business in its time of need. Iris, therefore, experiences the Canadian equivalent of an arranged marriage. Perhaps the word marriage is a little overstated. The partnership could be better described as a merger, or a union, if that were not a dirty word because of its political connotation.

And so the octogenarian Iris, clearly anticipating the end of her days, embarks upon a cathartic outpouring of personal and family history in the hope that an estranged granddaughter might just understand a little about other peoples' motives.

The book takes us through Canada and north America, across to Europe, via an imagined universe, to political commitment, direct action and its inevitable reaction. Iris needs to write it all down. And so she works her story out, constructing it, perhaps reconstructing it, maybe inventing it from memory and relived experience against a backdrop of contemporary Canada and her own failing health. Her vulnerability, in the end, is our debt, our penance, perhaps. She is a wise old woman with much to hide, but her acerbic wit is undiminished by age, her observations of others stunningly perspicacious.

It is not often that a novel, a mere flight of another's fancy, achieves the subtle, stunning and surely enduring power of the Blind Assassin.


Uneven, and largely unnecessary..., 29 Dec 2007
I really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale and, while I normally steer away from Booker prizewinners, I decided to give this a go.

It would certainly be unreasonable to deny that Atwood has a formidable command of the English language, and great skill in deploying it. There are about 7,000 metaphors and similes here, and nearly every one of them works. In that respect, I found it a surprisingly easy read, with a good flow to the prose, and a well-established context.

However, I would quibble with the idea that this is a great book. Even after 600 pages, I didn't feel I knew Iris very well - she was often an opaque figure, who really only became real when she got old and crabby. The early Iris was a blank, remote cipher. Laura was, I presume, intended to be enigmatic, but for me she held no real allure.

The narrative is odd. Considering it covers an entire life, it often dwells on the inconsequential, and skips over the important. Key events like births, weddings, deaths; these are all dispatched far too quickly. Maybe this was intentional, but it didn't read that way - it just read as uneven, and as if the reader didn't matter.

All in all, there was no dramatic tension at any point. The story drifted on, albeit that the splicing between one "story" and the other was poorly done, adding to the unevenness. I didn't really care what happened to Laura, or who was related to whom. It was all background, no foreground; and Atwood's failure to really emphasise what was important left it all feeling like a very intelligently-produced screensaver.

For me, this book is about 300 pages too long, and lacks a clear purpose. It tells of a life that has little to recommend its' telling. Maybe the Booker was a "lifetime achievement" rather than for this book alone, or maybe the Booker just goes to overrated, over-long books.

A compelling read, 06 Jan 2009
The blind assassin is a compelling read, leaving you gripped to practically every word. Atwood has the innate ability to keep her readers in suspense and yet still keep the momentum of the story going. Iris Griffen the focal character writes in intimate detail the background and history of her once prestigious family and its unfortunate demise. By doing so, Iris dragged up in her endeavour the mystery and clandestine past that had surrounded a death in her family, a death which had followed her for the majority of her adult life. This novel is not only thrilling and intriguing but utterly believable. Margaret Atwood truly grasps human emotion; her empathic nature completely makes the protagonist both credible and authentic, she is able to express the views of both the young and the elderly to exact precision. Atwood keeps the mystique of the story by the juxtaposition of the different points of view throughout the tale and the different time frames. It is clear a great deal of research has been put into the completion of the book, her understanding of social history throughout both the 19th and 20th centuries is quite clear which just makes the story even more realistic. However, following the text can become perplexing at times with the lack of quotation marks, as you can lose track of where a conversation is going or who said what within the discussion, another problem that occurs when reading the novel is that you are not always immediately sure, from whose point of view you are reading but it does soon become clear and when you manage to come to terms with these minor obstacles I'm sure that most people will find it, as I did, a thoroughly enjoyable read.

From Buttons to Bestsellers, 08 Nov 2008
This is a tricky one. There's no doubting Atwood's ability as a writer; her prose is consistently elegant (although I do have a few reservations about some incongruous vernacular, such as the repeated use of the word "nicked" when describing theft, but perhaps I'm being picky), and her descriptive powers are notable. The problem I have with this work is that it lacks synergy. Quite the opposite is in fact the case, with the whole falling short of the sum of the parts.

As a dynastic record, following the ups and downs of the prominent Canadian family at the book's core, the novel works well in an episodic way. The two sister's lives are chronicled with wit and poignancy. There is, however, a good deal of predictability to their fates. This is the story of a privileged family behaving in a manner to which most readers will be accustomed. Because of this familiarity the novel as a whole is not as successful as it might have been. There's much to recommend this book but there could have been so much more.

As an overall package this book warrants three stars, but, due to the high quality of the writing it earns four.

Blindingly beautiful, 09 Aug 2008
The Blind Assassin is spellbinding, haunting and bewitching. Atwood's gloriously conrolled use of poignant and delicate prose encapsulates love, passion and loss throughout three time periods with a true understanding of the human spirit which makes for a timeless and unforgetable piece of literature.
Not since Guy de Maupassant has an author managed to so untterly captivate my imagination and utterly absorb me into their imaginings. Atwood's intricately constructed narrative weaves seamlessly in and out of time and landscape involving the reader so intensely it is almost disappointing when the story finally reaches it's powerfully emotional conclusion. The novel is not only readable, it is hard not to be 'read' back by it; the characters are not only so beautifully defined as to be believed but are also so real as to be empathised with.
I was sorry to finish this book, it left me breathless and moved in a way that few others before have managed and deserves to become a 'classic' in every sense of the word.

An enduring masterpiece, 24 Mar 2008
Sometimes, when reading a big book, one gets the feeling that the author set out to achieve size, as if that in itself might suggest certain adjectives from a reader or reviewer - weighty, significant, deep, serious, complex, extensive, perhaps. Sometimes - rarely, in fact - one reads a big book and becomes lost in its size, lost in the sense that one ceases to notice the hundreds passing by, as the work creates its own time, defines its own experience, shares its own world. Even then, reaching the end can often be merely trite, just a running out of steam, the process thoroughly engaging, the product, however, something of a let down. Rarely, very rarely indeed, one reads a big book that actually needs its size, justifies itself, continues to surprise as well as enchant and then, finally, stuns. Margaret Atwood's Blind Assassin is such a book, a giant in every sense, a masterpiece beyond question.

Blind Assassin was awarded the Booker prize in 2000 and charts intersecting histories of two well-to-do Canadian families, Chase and Griffen. The two Chase sisters, Iris and Laura, are quite different people. Born into the relative opulence of a Canadian manufacturing family, they have a private education of sorts, experienced throughout and yet alongside something vaguely like a childhood. Various aspects of twentieth century history impinge upon their lives and eventually force their family to reassess its status. Economic downturn, war and family tragedy take their toll on the father, who becomes less able to manage either his own life or his business. Something has to give. Ways of coping must be found.

Iris, the elder sister, is the first person narrator of about half of the book, the other half being devoted to a book within a book, a novel in the name of Laura, the younger sister. This novel, entitled The Blind Assassin, is an eclectic mix of experience, sex, fantasy and politics. It has made a name for Laura and retains a significant cult following many years after its publication. Laura, herself, died in a car accident. She drove off a bridge into a ravine. The car belonged to Iris. There was never any real explanation for the event.

Iris, meanwhile, has been married off to an older man, a Griffen, who seems to treat her like so much chattel. But then he is an industrialist with the wherewithal, not to mention capital, to assist the bride's family business in its time of need. Iris, therefore, experiences the Canadian equivalent of an arranged marriage. Perhaps the word marriage is a little overstated. The partnership could be better described as a merger, or a union, if that were not a dirty word because of its political connotation.

And so the octogenarian Iris, clearly anticipating the end of her days, embarks upon a cathartic outpouring of personal and family history in the hope that an estranged granddaughter might just understand a little about other peoples' motives.

The book takes us through Canada and north America, across to Europe, via an imagined universe, to political commitment, direct action and its inevitable reaction. Iris needs to write it all down. And so she works her story out, constructing it, perhaps reconstructing it, maybe inventing it from memory and relived experience against a backdrop of contemporary Canada and her own failing health. Her vulnerability, in the end, is our debt, our penance, perhaps. She is a wise old woman with much to hide, but her acerbic wit is undiminished by age, her observations of others stunningly perspicacious.

It is not often that a novel, a mere flight of another's fancy, achieves the subtle, stunning and surely enduring power of the Blind Assassin.


Uneven, and largely unnecessary..., 29 Dec 2007
I really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale and, while I normally steer away from Booker prizewinners, I decided to give this a go.

It would certainly be unreasonable to deny that Atwood has a formidable command of the English language, and great skill in deploying it. There are about 7,000 metaphors and similes here, and nearly every one of them works. In that respect, I found it a surprisingly easy read, with a good flow to the prose, and a well-established context.

However, I would quibble with the idea that this is a great book. Even after 600 pages, I didn't feel I knew Iris very well - she was often an opaque figure, who really only became real when she got old and crabby. The early Iris was a blank, remote cipher. Laura was, I presume, intended to be enigmatic, but for me she held no real allure.

The narrative is odd. Considering it covers an entire life, it often dwells on the inconsequential, and skips over the important. Key events like births, weddings, deaths; these are all dispatched far too quickly. Maybe this was intentional, but it didn't read that way - it just read as uneven, and as if the reader didn't matter.

All in all, there was no dramatic tension at any point. The story drifted on, albeit that the splicing between one "story" and the other was poorly done, adding to the unevenness. I didn't really care what happened to Laura, or who was related to whom. It was all background, no foreground; and Atwood's failure to really emphasise what was important left it all feeling like a very intelligently-produced screensaver.

For me, this book is about 300 pages too long, and lacks a clear purpose. It tells of a life that has little to recommend its' telling. Maybe the Booker was a "lifetime achievement" rather than for this book alone, or maybe the Booker just goes to overrated, over-long books.

A compelling read, 06 Jan 2009
The blind assassin is a compelling read, leaving you gripped to practically every word. Atwood has the innate ability to keep her readers in suspense and yet still keep the momentum of the story going. Iris Griffen the focal character writes in intimate detail the background and history of her once prestigious family and its unfortunate demise. By doing so, Iris dragged up in her endeavour the mystery and clandestine past that had surrounded a death in her family, a death which had followed her for the majority of her adult life. This novel is not only thrilling and intriguing but utterly believable. Margaret Atwood truly grasps human emotion; her empathic nature completely makes the protagonist both credible and authentic, she is able to express the views of both the young and the elderly to exact precision. Atwood keeps the mystique of the story by the juxtaposition of the different points of view throughout the tale and the different time frames. It is clear a great deal of research has been put into the completion of the book, her understanding of social history throughout both the 19th and 20th centuries is quite clear which just makes the story even more realistic. However, following the text can become perplexing at times with the lack of quotation marks, as you can lose track of where a conversation is going or who said what within the discussion, another problem that occurs when reading the novel is that you are not always immediately sure, from whose point of view you are reading but it does soon become clear and when you manage to come to terms with these minor obstacles I'm sure that most people will find it, as I did, a thoroughly enjoyable read.

From Buttons to Bestsellers, 08 Nov 2008
This is a tricky one. There's no doubting Atwood's ability as a writer; her prose is consistently elegant (although I do have a few reservations about some incongruous vernacular, such as the repeated use of the word "nicked" when describing theft, but perhaps I'm being picky), and her descriptive powers are notable. The problem I have with this work is that it lacks synergy. Quite the opposite is in fact the case, with the whole falling short of the sum of the parts.

As a dynastic record, following the ups and downs of the prominent Canadian family at the book's core, the novel works well in an episodic way. The two sister's lives are chronicled with wit and poignancy. There is, however, a good deal of predictability to their fates. This is the story of a privileged family behaving in a manner to which most readers will be accustomed. Because of this familiarity the novel as a whole is not as successful as it might have been. There's much to recommend this book but there could have been so much more.

As an overall package this book warrants three stars, but, due to the high quality of the writing it earns four.

Blindingly beautiful, 09 Aug 2008
The Blind Assassin is spellbinding, haunting and bewitching. Atwood's gloriously conrolled use of poignant and delicate prose encapsulates love, passion and loss throughout three time periods with a true understanding of the human spirit which makes for a timeless and unforgetable piece of literature.
Not since Guy de Maupassant has an author managed to so untterly captivate my imagination and utterly absorb me into their imaginings. Atwood's intricately constructed narrative weaves seamlessly in and out of time and landscape involving the reader so intensely it is almost disappointing when the story finally reaches it's powerfully emotional conclusion. The novel is not only readable, it is hard not to be 'read' back by it; the characters are not only so beautifully defined as to be believed but are also so real as to be empathised with.
I was sorry to finish this book, it left me breathless and moved in a way that few others before have managed and deserves to become a 'classic' in every sense of the word.

An enduring masterpiece, 24 Mar 2008
Sometimes, when reading a big book, one gets the feeling that the author set out to achieve size, as if that in itself might suggest certain adjectives from a reader or reviewer - weighty, significant, deep, serious, complex, extensive, perhaps. Sometimes - rarely, in fact - one reads a big book and becomes lost in its size, lost in the sense that one ceases to notice the hundreds passing by, as the work creates its own time, defines its own experience, shares its own world. Even then, reaching the end can often be merely trite, just a running out of steam, the process thoroughly engaging, the product, however, something of a let down. Rarely, very rarely indeed, one reads a big book that actually needs its size, justifies itself, continues to surprise as well as enchant and then, finally, stuns. Margaret Atwood's Blind Assassin is such a book, a giant in every sense, a masterpiece beyond question.

Blind Assassin was awarded the Booker prize in 2000 and charts intersecting histories of two well-to-do Canadian families, Chase and Griffen. The two Chase sisters, Iris and Laura, are quite different people. Born into the relative opulence of a Canadian manufacturing family, they have a private education of sorts, experienced throughout and yet alongside something vaguely like a childhood. Various aspects of twentieth century history impinge upon their lives and eventually force their family to reassess its status. Economic downturn, war and family tragedy take their toll on the father, who becomes less able to manage either his own life or his business. Something has to give. Ways of coping must be found.

Iris, the elder sister, is the first person narrator of about half of the book, the other half being devoted to a book within a book, a novel in the name of Laura, the younger sister. This novel, entitled The Blind Assassin, is an eclectic mix of experience, sex, fantasy and politics. It has made a name for Laura and retains a significant cult following many years after its publication. Laura, herself, died in a car accident. She drove off a bridge into a ravine. The car belonged to Iris. There was never any real explanation for the event.

Iris, meanwhile, has been married off to an older man, a Griffen, who seems to treat her like so much chattel. But then he is an industrialist with the wherewithal, not to mention capital, to assist the bride's family business in its time of need. Iris, therefore, experiences the Canadian equivalent of an arranged marriage. Perhaps the word marriage is a little overstated. The partnership could be better described as a merger, or a union, if that were not a dirty word because of its political connotation.

And so the octogenarian Iris, clearly anticipating the end of her days, embarks upon a cathartic outpouring of personal and family history in the hope that an estranged granddaughter might just understand a little about other peoples' motives.

The book takes us through Canada and north America, across to Europe, via an imagined universe, to political commitment, direct action and its inevitable reaction. Iris needs to write it all down. And so she works her story out, constructing it, perhaps reconstructing it, maybe inventing it from memory and relived experience against a backdrop of contemporary Canada and her own failing health. Her vulnerability, in the end, is our debt, our penance, perhaps. She is a wise old woman with much to hide, but her acerbic wit is undiminished by age, her observations of others stunningly perspicacious.

It is not often that a novel, a mere flight of another's fancy, achieves the subtle, stunning and surely enduring power of the Blind Assassin.


Uneven, and largely unnecessary..., 29 Dec 2007
I really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale and, while I normally steer away from Booker prizewinners, I decided to give this a go.

It would certainly be unreasonable to deny that Atwood has a formidable command of the English language, and great skill in deploying it. There are about 7,000 metaphors and similes here, and nearly every one of them works. In that respect, I found it a surprisingly easy read, with a good flow to the prose, and a well-established context.

However, I would quibble with the idea that this is a great book. Even after 600 pages, I didn't feel I knew Iris very well - she was often an opaque figure, who really only became real when she got old and crabby. The early Iris was a blank, remote cipher. Laura was, I presume, intended to be enigmatic, but for me she held no real allure.

The narrative is odd. Considering it covers an entire life, it often dwells on the inconsequential, and skips over the important. Key events like births, weddings, deaths; these are all dispatched far too quickly. Maybe this was intentional, but it didn't read that way - it just read as uneven, and as if the reader didn't matter.

All in all, there was no dramatic tension at any point. The story drifted on, albeit that the splicing between one "story" and the other was poorly done, adding to the unevenness. I didn't really care what happened to Laura, or who was related to whom. It was all background, no foreground; and Atwood's failure to really emphasise what was important left it all feeling like a very intelligently-produced screensaver.

For me, this book is about 300 pages too long, and lacks a clear purpose. It tells of a life that has little to recommend its' telling. Maybe the Booker was a "lifetime achievement" rather than for this book alone, or maybe the Booker just goes to overrated, over-long books.

A compelling read, 06 Jan 2009
The blind assassin is a compelling read, leaving you gripped to practically every word. Atwood has the innate ability to keep her readers in suspense and yet still keep the momentum of the story going. Iris Griffen the focal character writes in intimate detail the background and history of her once prestigious family and its unfortunate demise. By doing so, Iris dragged up in her endeavour the mystery and clandestine past that had surrounded a death in her family, a death which had followed her for the majority of her adult life. This novel is not only thrilling and intriguing but utterly believable. Margaret Atwood truly grasps human emotion; her empathic nature completely makes the protagonist both credible and authentic, she is able to express the views of both the young and the elderly to exact precision. Atwood keeps the mystique of the story by the juxtaposition of the different points of view throughout the tale and the different time frames. It is clear a great deal of research has been put into the completion of the book, her understanding of social history throughout both the 19th and 20th centuries is quite clear which just makes the story even more realistic. However, following the text can become perplexing at times with the lack of quotation marks, as you can lose track of where a conversation is going or who said what within the discussion, another problem that occurs when reading the novel is that you are not always immediately sure, from whose point of view you are reading but it does soon become clear and when you manage to come to terms with these minor obstacles I'm sure that most people will find it, as I did, a thoroughly enjoyable read.

From Buttons to Bestsellers, 08 Nov 2008
This is a tricky one. There's no doubting Atwood's ability as a writer; her prose is consistently elegant (although I do have a few reservations about some incongruous vernacular, such as the repeated use of the word "nicked" when describing theft, but perhaps I'm being picky), and her descriptive powers are notable. The problem I have with this work is that it lacks synergy. Quite the opposite is in fact the case, with the whole falling short of the sum of the parts.

As a dynastic record, following the ups and downs of the prominent Canadian family at the book's core, the novel works well in an episodic way. The two sister's lives are chronicled with wit and poignancy. There is, however, a good deal of predictability to their fates. This is the story of a privileged family behaving in a manner to which most readers will be accustomed. Because of this familiarity the novel as a whole is not as successful as it might have been. There's much to recommend this book but there could have been so much more.

As an overall package this book warrants three stars, but, due to the high quality of the writing it earns four.

Blindingly beautiful, 09 Aug 2008
The Blind Assassin is spellbinding, haunting and bewitching. Atwood's gloriously conrolled use of poignant and delicate prose encapsulates love, passion and loss throughout three time periods with a true understanding of the human spirit which makes for a timeless and unforgetable piece of literature.
Not since Guy de Maupassant has an author managed to so untterly captivate my imagination and utterly absorb me into their imaginings. Atwood's intricately constructed narrative weaves seamlessly in and out of time and landscape involving the reader so intensely it is almost disappointing when the story finally reaches it's powerfully emotional conclusion. The novel is not only readable, it is hard not to be 'read' back by it; the characters are not only so beautifully defined as to be believed but are also so real as to be empathised with.
I was sorry to finish this book, it left me breathless and moved in a way that few others before have managed and deserves to become a 'classic' in every sense of the word.

An enduring masterpiece, 24 Mar 2008
Sometimes, when reading a big book, one gets the feeling that the author set out to achieve size, as if that in itself might suggest certain adjectives from a reader or reviewer - weighty, significant, deep, serious, complex, extensive, perhaps. Sometimes - rarely, in fact - one reads a big book and becomes lost in its size, lost in the sense that one ceases to notice the hundreds passing by, as the work creates its own time, defines its own experience, shares its own world. Even then, reaching the end can often be merely trite, just a running out of steam, the process thoroughly engaging, the product, however, something of a let down. Rarely, very rarely indeed, one reads a big book that actually needs its size, justifies itself, continues to surprise as well as enchant and then, finally, stuns. Margaret Atwood's Blind Assassin is such a book, a giant in every sense, a masterpiece beyond question.

Blind Assassin was awarded the Booker prize in 2000 and charts intersecting histories of two well-to-do Canadian families, Chase and Griffen. The two Chase sisters, Iris and Laura, are quite different people. Born into the relative opulence of a Canadian manufacturing family, they have a private education of sorts, experienced throughout and yet alongside something vaguely like a childhood. Various aspects of twentieth century history impinge upon their lives and eventually force their family to reassess its status. Economic downturn, war and family tragedy take their toll on the father, who becomes less able to manage either his own life or his business. Something has to give. Ways of coping must be found.

Iris, the elder sister, is the first person narrator of about half of the book, the other half being devoted to a book within a book, a novel in the name of Laura, the younger sister. This novel, entitled The Blind Assassin, is an eclectic mix of experience, sex, fantasy and politics. It has made a name for Laura and retains a significant cult following many years after its publication. Laura, herself, died in a car accident. She drove off a bridge into a ravine. The car belonged to Iris. There was never any real explanation for the event.

Iris, meanwhile, has been married off to an older man, a Griffen, who seems to treat her like so much chattel. But then he is an industrialist with the wherewithal, not to mention capital, to assist the bride's family business in its time of need. Iris, therefore, experiences the Canadian equivalent of an arranged marriage. Perhaps the word marriage is a little overstated. The partnership could be better described as a merger, or a union, if that were not a dirty word because of its political connotation.

And so the octogenarian Iris, clearly anticipating the end of her days, embarks upon a cathartic outpouring of personal and family history in the hope that an estranged granddaughter might just understand a little about other peoples' motives.

The book takes us through Canada and north America, across to Europe, via an imagined universe, to political commitment, direct action and its inevitable reaction. Iris needs to write it all down. And so she works her story out, constructing it, perhaps reconstructing it, maybe inventing it from memory and relived experience against a backdrop of contemporary Canada and her own failing health. Her vulnerability, in the end, is our debt, our penance, perhaps. She is a wise old woman with much to hide, but her acerbic wit is undiminished by age, her observations of others stunningly perspicacious.

It is not often that a novel, a mere flight of another's fancy, achieves the subtle, stunning and surely enduring power of the Blind Assassin.


Uneven, and largely unnecessary..., 29 Dec 2007
I really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale and, while I normally steer away from Booker prizewinners, I decided to give this a go.

It would certainly be unreasonable to deny that Atwood has a formidable command of the English language, and great skill in deploying it. There are about 7,000 metaphors and similes here, and nearly every one of them works. In that respect, I found it a surprisingly easy read, with a good flow to the prose, and a well-established context.

However, I would quibble with the idea that this is a great book. Even after 600 pages, I didn't feel I knew Iris very well - she was often an opaque figure, who really only became real when she got old and crabby. The early Iris was a blank, remote cipher. Laura was, I presume, intended to be enigmatic, but for me she held no real allure.

The narrative is odd. Considering it covers an entire life, it often dwells on the inconsequential, and skips over the important. Key events like births, weddings, deaths; these are all dispatched far too quickly. Maybe this was intentional, but it didn't read that way - it just read as uneven, and as if the reader didn't matter.

All in all, there was no dramatic tension at any point. The story drifted on, albeit that the splicing between one "story" and the other was poorly done, adding to the unevenness. I didn't really care what happened to Laura, or who was related to whom. It was all background, no foreground; and Atwood's failure to really emphasise what was important left it all feeling like a very intelligently-produced screensaver.

For me, this book is about 300 pages too long, and lacks a clear purpose. It tells of a life that has little to recommend its' telling. Maybe the Booker was a "lifetime achievement" rather than for this book alone, or maybe the Booker just goes to overrated, over-long books.

Skillful character writing, 09 Aug 2005
In 'Life Before Man', Margaret Atwood presents us with several lead characters, displays their troubled souls and lets their worlds overlap. No-one would envy any one of these characters but perhaps we can identify with some of their traits. In Elizabeth we witness the self-destruction that comes from excessive self-control - I wanted to slap her, shake her, anything to make her speak out. I watched with sadness Lesje's innocent quest to find love that will not suffocate her, although she risks becoming the one who smothers. Nate is almost docile. He tries to find happiness but is pulled apart between Elizabeth's oppressive coldness and Lesje's neediness.

This is not a cheerful book, but nor is it overly morose. I found that I could see what was going to happen, how each character would feel about it and how they would try to deal with it. But being able to foretell the consequences does not mean that the book is dull or predictable, rather that the characters seem so real that I could second guess them. Margaret Atwood has written these people so well that they feel as familiar as friends or colleagues - a skill demonstrated by only the best of writers. You will look upon them as you would a friend who is ignoring your wise advice and heading for a downfall! If you are a fan of Atwood's work then this is represents a worthy addition to your bookshelf.

The traces we leave behind, 25 Oct 2000
What is the nature of a fossil? Using a quote from Bjorn Kurten to precede this novel, Atwood illuminates much of what is to follow: a fossil is not necessarily a part of an organism, but could be a record of its activity: a footprint, perhaps. It could be a prehistoric equivalent of graffiti.

Using the fossil as the central metaphor for her novel, Atwood tells the story of three individuals whose lives collide with cataclysmic effect. Told in episodes from the three different perspectives the reader uncovers the story much like an archaeologist might uncover the treasures of a prehistoric site. Elizabeth, Nate and Lesje are put under the microscope and steadily stripped down to their essential components by a narrator (although a few of Elizabeth's episodes are told in the first person) who is as objective as a scientist. We all know, however, that scientists are not always objective.

What makes this novel so fascinating is this interplay between cold fact and emotional involvement. Atwood refuses to follow easy paths to happy solutions and the reader senses early on that a tragic outcome is as inevitable as the eventual extinction of Lesje's beloved dinosaurs. Her characters are neither heroes nor villains, neither heartless monsters nor innocent victims. They are driven towards their fates by forces as much in their own natures as in the natures of those around them.

As any true Atwood devotee would expect, the writing is sharp, witty, observant and totally compelling. It is perhaps richer in symbolism than many of her other novels, yet it does not tread the mystical and poetic waters (so to speak) of "Surfacing". It reads deceptively easily and the bubbling volcano at its core is implied rather than stated. If the novel has a possible downfall it could lie in this subtlety, which many readers might not perceive.

"Life before man" is a landmark novel, even for an author who is surely one of the greatest literary minds of our age. Its effect is devastating in the best possible sense, making the reader reflect on the consequences of actions which might seem insignificant at the time, but can leave traces far beyond their original scope.

A compelling read, 06 Jan 2009
The blind assassin is a compelling read, leaving you gripped to practically every word. Atwood has the innate ability to keep her readers in suspense and yet still keep the momentum of the story going. Iris Griffen the focal character writes in intimate detail the background and history of her once prestigious family and its unfortunate demise. By doing so, Iris dragged up in her endeavour the mystery and clandestine past that had surrounded a death in her family, a death which had followed her for the majority of her adult life. This novel is not only thrilling and intriguing but utterly believable. Margaret Atwood truly grasps human emotion; her empathic nature completely makes the protagonist both credible and authentic, she is able to express the views of both the young and the elderly to exact precision. Atwood keeps the mystique of the story by the juxtaposition of the different points of view throughout the tale and the different time frames. It is clear a great deal of research has been put into the completion of the book, her understanding of social history throughout both the 19th and 20th centuries is quite clear which just makes the story even more realistic. However, following the text can become perplexing at times with the lack of quotation marks, as you can lose track of where a conversation is going or who said what within the discussion, another problem that occurs when reading the novel is that you are not always immediately sure, from whose point of view you are reading but it does soon become clear and when you manage to come to terms with these minor obstacles I'm sure that most people will find it, as I did, a thoroughly enjoyable read.

From Buttons to Bestsellers, 08 Nov 2008
This is a tricky one. There's no doubting Atwood's ability as a writer; her prose is consistently elegant (although I do have a few reservations about some incongruous vernacular, such as the repeated use of the word "nicked" when describing theft, but perhaps I'm being picky), and her descriptive powers are notable. The problem I have with this work is that it lacks synergy. Quite the opposite is in fact the case, with the whole falling short of the sum of the parts.

As a dynastic record, following the ups and downs of the prominent Canadian family at the book's core, the novel works well in an episodic way. The two sister's lives are chronicled with wit and poignancy. There is, however, a good deal of predictability to their fates. This is the story of a privileged family behaving in a manner to which most readers will be accustomed. Because of this familiarity the novel as a whole is not as successful as it might have been. There's much to recommend this book but there could have been so much more.

As an overall package this book warrants three stars, but, due to the high quality of the writing it earns four.

Blindingly beautiful, 09 Aug 2008
The Blind Assassin is spellbinding, haunting and bewitching. Atwood's gloriously conrolled use of poignant and delicate prose encapsulates love, passion and loss throughout three time periods with a true understanding of the human spirit which makes for a timeless and unforgetable piece of literature.
Not since Guy de Maupassant has an author managed to so untterly captivate my imagination and utterly absorb me into their imaginings. Atwood's intricately constructed narrative weaves seamlessly in and out of time and landscape involving the reader so intensely it is almost disappointing when the story finally reaches it's powerfully emotional conclusion. The novel is not only readable, it is hard not to be 'read' back by it; the characters are not only so beautifully defined as to be believed but are also so real as to be empathised with.
I was sorry to finish this book, it left me breathless and moved in a way that few others before have managed and deserves to become a 'classic' in every sense of the word.

An enduring masterpiece, 24 Mar 2008
Sometimes, when reading a big book, one gets the feeling that the author set out to achieve size, as if that in itself might suggest certain adjectives from a reader or reviewer - weighty, significant, deep, serious, complex, extensive, perhaps. Sometimes - rarely, in fact - one reads a big book and becomes lost in its size, lost in the sense that one ceases to notice the hundreds passing by, as the work creates its own time, defines its own experience, shares its own world. Even then, reaching the end can often be merely trite, just a running out of steam, the process thoroughly engaging, the product, however, something of a let down. Rarely, very rarely indeed, one reads a big book that actually needs its size, justifies itself, continues to surprise as well as enchant and then, finally, stuns. Margaret Atwood's Blind Assassin is such a book, a giant in every sense, a masterpiece beyond question.

Blind Assassin was awarded the Booker prize in 2000 and charts intersecting histories of two well-to-do Canadian families, Chase and Griffen. The two Chase sisters, Iris and Laura, are quite different people. Born into the relative opulence of a Canadian manufacturing family, they have a private education of sorts, experienced throughout and yet alongside something vaguely like a childhood. Various aspects of twentieth century history impinge upon their lives and eventually force their family to reassess its status. Economic downturn, war and family tragedy take their toll on the father, who becomes less able to manage either his own life or his business. Something has to give. Ways of coping must be found.

Iris, the elder sister, is the first person narrator of about half of the book, the other half being devoted to a book within a book, a novel in the name of Laura, the younger sister. This novel, entitled The Blind Assassin, is an eclectic mix of experience, sex, fantasy and politics. It has made a name for Laura and retains a significant cult following many years after its publication. Laura, herself, died in a car accident. She drove off a bridge into a ravine. The car belonged to Iris. There was never any real explanation for the event.

Iris, meanwhile, has been married off to an older man, a Griffen, who seems to treat her like so much chattel. But then he is an industrialist with the wherewithal, not to mention capital, to assist the bride's family business in its time of need. Iris, therefore, experiences the Canadian equivalent of an arranged marriage. Perhaps the word marriage is a little overstated. The partnership could be better described as a merger, or a union, if that were not a dirty word because of its political connotation.

And so the octogenarian Iris, clearly anticipating the end of her days, embarks upon a cathartic outpouring of personal and family history in the hope that an estranged granddaughter might just understand a little about other peoples' motives.

The book takes us through Canada and north America, across to Europe, via an imagined universe, to political commitment, direct action and its inevitable reaction. Iris needs to write it all down. And so she works her story out, constructing it, perhaps reconstructing it, maybe inventing it from memory and relived experience against a backdrop of contemporary Canada and her own failing health. Her vulnerability, in the end, is our debt, our penance, perhaps. She is a wise old woman with much to hide, but her acerbic wit is undiminished by age, her observations of others stunningly perspicacious.

It is not often that a novel, a mere flight of another's fancy, achieves the subtle, stunning and surely enduring power of the Blind Assassin.


Uneven, and largely unnecessary..., 29 Dec 2007
I really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale and, while I normally steer away from Booker prizewinners, I decided to give this a go.

It would certainly be unreasonable to deny that Atwood has a formidable command of the English language, and great skill in deploying it. There are about 7,000 metaphors and similes here, and nearly every one of them works. In that respect, I found it a surprisingly easy read, with a good flow to the prose, and a well-established context.

However, I would quibble with the idea that this is a great book. Even after 600 pages, I didn't feel I knew Iris very well - she was often an opaque figure, who really only became real when she got old and crabby. The early Iris was a blank, remote cipher. Laura was, I presume, intended to be enigmatic, but for me she held no real allure.

The narrative is odd. Considering it covers an entire life, it often dwells on the inconsequential, and skips over the important. Key events like births, weddings, deaths; these are all dispatched far too quickly. Maybe this was intentional, but it didn't read that way - it just read as uneven, and as if the reader didn't matter.

All in all, there was no dramatic tension at any point. The story drifted on, albeit that the splicing between one "story" and the other was poorly done, adding to the unevenness. I didn't really care what happened to Laura, or who was related to whom. It was all background, no foreground; and Atwood's failure to really emphasise what was important left it all feeling like a very intelligently-produced screensaver.

For me, this book is about 300 pages too long, and lacks a clear purpose. It tells of a life that has little to recommend its' telling. Maybe the Booker was a "lifetime achievement" rather than for this book alone, or maybe the Booker just goes to overrated, over-long books.

A compelling read, 06 Jan 2009
The blind assassin is a compelling read, leaving you gripped to practically every word. Atwood has the innate ability to keep her readers in suspense and yet still keep the momentum of the story going. Iris Griffen the focal character writes in intimate detail the background and history of her once prestigious family and its unfortunate demise. By doing so, Iris dragged up in her endeavour the mystery and clandestine past that had surrounded a death in her family, a death which had followed her for the majority of her adult life. This novel is not only thrilling and intriguing but utterly believable. Margaret Atwood truly grasps human emotion; her empathic nature completely makes the protagonist both credible and authentic, she is able to express the views of both the young and the elderly to exact precision. Atwood keeps the mystique of the story by the juxtaposition of the different points of view throughout the tale and the different time frames. It is clear a great deal of research has been put into the completion of the book, her understanding of social history throughout both the 19th and 20th centuries is quite clear which just makes the story even more realistic. However, following the text can become perplexing at times with the lack of quotation marks, as you can lose track of where a conversation is going or who said what within the discussion, another problem that occurs when reading the novel is that you are not always immediately sure, from whose point of view you are reading but it does soon become clear and when you manage to come to terms with these minor obstacles I'm sure that most people will find it, as I did, a thoroughly enjoyable read.

From Buttons to Bestsellers, 08 Nov 2008
This is a tricky one. There's no doubting Atwood's ability as a writer; her prose is consistently elegant (although I do have a few reservations about some incongruous vernacular, such as the repeated use of the word "nicked" when describing theft, but perhaps I'm being picky), and her descriptive powers are notable. The problem I have with this work is that it lacks synergy. Quite the opposite is in fact the case, with the whole falling short of the sum of the parts.

As a dynastic record, following the ups and downs of the prominent Canadian family at the book's core, the novel works well in an episodic way. The two sister's lives are chronicled with wit and poignancy. There is, however, a good deal of predictability to their fates. This is the story of a privileged family behaving in a manner to which most readers will be accustomed. Because of this familiarity the novel as a whole is not as successful as it might have been. There's much to recommend this book but there could have been so much more.

As an overall package this book warrants three stars, but, due to the high quality of the writing it earns four.

Blindingly beautiful, 09 Aug 2008
The Blind Assassin is spellbinding, haunting and bewitching. Atwood's gloriously conrolled use of poignant and delicate prose encapsulates love, passion and loss throughout three time periods with a true understanding of the human spirit which makes for a timeless and unforgetable piece of literature.
Not since Guy de Maupassant has an author managed to so untterly captivate my imagination and utterly absorb me into their imaginings. Atwood's intricately constructed narrative weaves seamlessly in and out of time and landscape involving the reader so intensely it is almost disappointing when the story finally reaches it's powerfully emotional conclusion. The novel is not only readable, it is hard not to be 'read' back by it; the characters are not only so beautifully defined as to be believed but are also so real as to be empathised with.
I was sorry to finish this book, it left me breathless and moved in a way that few others before have managed and deserves to become a 'classic' in every sense of the word.

An enduring masterpiece, 24 Mar 2008
Sometimes, when reading a big book, one gets the feeling that the author set out to achieve size, as if that in itself might suggest certain adjectives from a reader or reviewer - weighty, significant, deep, serious, complex, extensive, perhaps. Sometimes - rarely, in fact - one reads a big book and becomes lost in its size, lost in the sense that one ceases to notice the hundreds passing by, as the work creates its own time, defines its own experience, shares its own world. Even then, reaching the end can often be merely trite, just a running out of steam, the process thoroughly engaging, the product, however, something of a let down. Rarely, very rarely indeed, one reads a big book that actually needs its size, justifies itself, continues to surprise as well as enchant and then, finally, stuns. Margaret Atwood's Blind Assassin is such a book, a giant in every sense, a masterpiece beyond question.

Blind Assassin was awarded the Booker prize in 2000 and charts intersecting histories of two well-to-do Canadian families, Chase and Griffen. The two Chase sisters, Iris and Laura, are quite different people. Born into the relative opulence of a Canadian manufacturing family, they have a private education of sorts, experienced throughout and yet alongside something vaguely like a childhood. Various aspects of twentieth century history impinge upon their lives and eventually force their family to reassess its status. Economic downturn, war and family tragedy take their toll on the father, who becomes less able to manage either his own life or his business. Something has to give. Ways of coping must be found.

Iris, the elder sister, is the first person narrator of about half of the book, the other half being devoted to a book within a book, a novel in the name of Laura, the younger sister. This novel, entitled The Blind Assassin, is an eclectic mix of experience, sex, fantasy and politics. It has made a name for Laura and retains a significant cult following many years after its publication. Laura, herself, died in a car accident. She drove off a bridge into a ravine. The car belonged to Iris. There was never any real explanation for the event.

Iris, meanwhile, has been married off to an older man, a Griffen, who seems to treat her like so much chattel. But then he is an industrialist with the wherewithal, not to mention capital, to assist the bride's family business in its time of need. Iris, therefore, experiences the Canadian equivalent of an arranged marriage. Perhaps the word marriage is a little overstated. The partnership could be better described as a merger, or a union, if that were not a dirty word because of its political connotation.

And so the octogenarian Iris, clearly anticipating the end of her days, embarks upon a cathartic outpouring of personal and family history in the hope that an estranged granddaughter might just understand a little about other peoples' motives.

The book takes us through Canada and north America, across to Europe, via an imagined universe, to political commitment, direct action and its inevitable reaction. Iris needs to write it all down. And so she works her story out, constructing it, perhaps reconstructing it, maybe inventing it from memory and relived experience against a backdrop of contemporary Canada and her own failing health. Her vulnerability, in the end, is our debt, our penance, perhaps. She is a wise old woman with much to hide, but her acerbic wit is undiminished by age, her observations of others stunningly perspicacious.

It is not often that a novel, a mere flight of another's fancy, achieves the subtle, stunning and surely enduring power of the Blind Assassin.


Uneven, and largely unnecessary..., 29 Dec 2007
I really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale and, while I normally steer away from Booker prizewinners, I decided to give this a go.

It would certainly be unreasonable to deny that Atwood has a formidable command of the English language, and great skill in deploying it. There are about 7,000 metaphors and similes here, and nearly every one of them works. In that respect, I found it a surprisingly easy read, with a good flow to the prose, and a well-established context.

However, I would quibble with the idea that this is a great book. Even after 600 pages, I didn't feel I knew Iris very well - she was often an opaque figure, who really only became real when she got old and crabby. The early Iris was a blank, remote cipher. Laura was, I presume, intended to be enigmatic, but for me she held no real allure.

The narrative is odd. Considering it covers an entire life, it often dwells on the inconsequential, and skips over the important. Key events like births, weddings, deaths; these are all dispatched far too quickly. Maybe this was intentional, but it didn't read that way - it just read as uneven, and as if the reader didn't matter.

All in all, there was no dramatic tension at any point. The story drifted on, albeit that the splicing between one "story" and the other was poorly done, adding to the unevenness. I didn't really care what happened to Laura, or who was related to whom. It was all background, no foreground; and Atwood's failure to really emphasise what was important left it all feeling like a very intelligently-produced screensaver.

For me, this book is about 300 pages too long, and lacks a clear purpose. It tells of a life that has little to recommend its' telling. Maybe the Booker was a "lifetime achievement" rather than for this book alone, or maybe the Booker just goes to overrated, over-long books.

Skillful character writing, 09 Aug 2005
In 'Life Before Man', Margaret Atwood presents us with several lead characters, displays their troubled souls and lets their worlds overlap. No-one would envy any one of these characters but perhaps we can identify with some of their traits. In Elizabeth we witness the self-destruction that comes from excessive self-control - I wanted to slap her, shake her, anything to make her speak out. I watched with sadness Lesje's innocent quest to find love that will not suffocate her, although she risks becoming the one who smothers. Nate is almost docile. He tries to find happiness but is pulled apart between Elizabeth's oppressive coldness and Lesje's neediness.

This is not a cheerful book, but nor is it overly morose. I found that I could see what was going to happen, how each character would feel about it and how they would try to deal with it. But being able to foretell the consequences does not mean that the book is dull or predictable, rather that the characters seem so real that I could second guess them. Margaret Atwood has written these people so well that they feel as familiar as friends or colleagues - a skill demonstrated by only the best of writers. You will look upon them as you would a friend who is ignoring your wise advice and heading for a downfall! If you are a fan of Atwood's work then this is represents a worthy addition to your bookshelf.

The traces we leave behind, 25 Oct 2000
What is the nature of a fossil? Using a quote from Bjorn Kurten to precede this novel, Atwood illuminates much of what is to follow: a fossil is not necessarily a part of an organism, but could be a record of its activity: a footprint, perhaps. It could be a prehistoric equivalent of graffiti.

Using the fossil as the central metaphor for her novel, Atwood tells the story of three individuals whose lives collide with cataclysmic effect. Told in episodes from the three different perspectives the reader uncovers the story much like an archaeologist might uncover the treasures of a prehistoric site. Elizabeth, Nate and Lesje are put under the microscope and steadily stripped down to their essential components by a narrator (although a few of Elizabeth's episodes are told in the first person) who is as objective as a scientist. We all know, however, that scientists are not always objective.

What makes this novel so fascinating is this interplay between cold fact and emotional involvement. Atwood refuses to follow easy paths to happy solutions and the reader senses early on that a tragic outcome is as inevitable as the eventual extinction of Lesje's beloved dinosaurs. Her characters are neither heroes nor villains, neither heartless monsters nor innocent victims. They are driven towards their fates by forces as much in their own natures as in the natures of those around them.

As any true Atwood devotee would expect, the writing is sharp, witty, observant and totally compelling. It is perhaps richer in symbolism than many of her other novels, yet it does not tread the mystical and poetic waters (so to speak) of "Surfacing". It reads deceptively easily and the bubbling volcano at its core is implied rather than stated. If the novel has a possible downfall it could lie in this subtlety, which many readers might not perceive.

"Life before man" is a landmark novel, even for an author who is surely one of the greatest literary minds of our age. Its effect is devastating in the best possible sense, making the reader reflect on the consequences of actions which might seem insignificant at the time, but can leave traces far beyond their original scope.

Clever and colourful tales which challenge gender roles, 22 Feb 2000
This is a collection of short stories in the league of Carter and Winterton. Atwoods tales challenge patriarchal values, though her overall themes are often darker and more ambigoues. If you liked Wintertons 'Sexing the Cherry' or Carters 'The Bloody Chamber', give this one a go. Bluebeards Egg is the high light of the book though, the other stories appear a little empty in comparrison.

In 1843, a 16-year-old Canadian housemaid named Grace Marks was tried for the murder of her employer and his mistress. The sensationalistic trial made headlines throughout the world, and the jury delivered a guilty verdict. Yet opinion remained fiercely divided about Marks- -was she a spurned woman who had taken out her rage on two innocent victims, or was she an unwilling victim herself, caught up in a crime she was too young to understand? Such doubts persuaded the judges to commute her sentence to life imprisonment, and Marks spent the next 30 years in an assortment of jails and asylums, where she was often exhibited as a star attraction. In Alias Grace, Margaret Atwood reconstructs Marks's story in fictional form. Her portraits of 19th-century prison and asylum life are chilling in their detail. The author also introduces Dr Simon Jordan, who listens to the prisoner's tale with a mixture of sympathy and disbelief. In his effort to uncover the truth, Jordan uses the tools of the then rudimentary science of psychology. But the last word belongs to the book's narrator--Grace herself.

A compelling read, 06 Jan 2009
The blind assassin is a compelling read, leaving you gripped to practically every word. Atwood has the innate ability to keep her readers in suspense and yet still keep the momentum of the story going. Iris Griffen the focal character writes in intimate detail the background and history of her once prestigious family and its unfortunate demise. By doing so, Iris dragged up in her endeavour the mystery and clandestine past that had surrounded a death in her family, a death which had followed her for the majority of her adult life. This novel is not only thrilling and intriguing but utterly believable. Margaret Atwood truly grasps human emotion; her empathic nature completely makes the protagonist both credible and authentic, she is able to express the views of both the young and the elderly to exact precision. Atwood keeps the mystique of the story by the juxtaposition of the different points of view throughout the tale and the different time frames. It is clear a great deal of research has been put into the completion of the book, her understanding of social history throughout both the 19th and 20th centuries is quite clear which just makes the story even more realistic. However, following the text can become perplexing at times with the lack of quotation marks, as you can lose track of where a conversation is going or who said what within the discussion, another problem that occurs when reading the novel is that you are not always immediately sure, from whose point of view you are reading but it does soon become clear and when you manage to come to terms with these minor obstacles I'm sure that most people will find it, as I did, a thoroughly enjoyable read.

From Buttons to Bestsellers, 08 Nov 2008
This is a tricky one. There's no doubting Atwood's ability as a writer; her prose is consistently elegant (although I do have a few reservations about some incongruous vernacular, such as the repeated use of the word "nicked" when describing theft, but perhaps I'm being picky), and her descriptive powers are notable. The problem I have with this work is that it lacks synergy. Quite the opposite is in fact the case, with the whole falling short of the sum of the parts.

As a dynastic record, following the ups and downs of the prominent Canadian family at the book's core, the novel works well in an episodic way. The two sister's lives are chronicled with wit and poignancy. There is, however, a good deal of predictability to their fates. This is the story of a privileged family behaving in a manner to which most readers will be accustomed. Because of this familiarity the novel as a whole is not as successful as it might have been. There's much to recommend this book but there could have been so much more.

As an overall package this book warrants three stars, but, due to the high quality of the writing it earns four.

Blindingly beautiful, 09 Aug 2008
The Blind Assassin is spellbinding, haunting and bewitching. Atwood's gloriously conrolled use of poignant and delicate prose encapsulates love, passion and loss throughout three time periods with a true understanding of the human spirit which makes for a timeless and unforgetable piece of literature.
Not since Guy de Maupassant has an author managed to so untterly captivate my imagination and utterly absorb me into their imaginings. Atwood's intricately constructed narrative weaves seamlessly in and out of time and landscape involving the reader so intensely it is almost disappointing when the story finally reaches it's powerfully emotional conclusion. The novel is not only readable, it is hard not to be 'read' back by it; the characters are not only so beautifully defined as to be believed but are also so real as to be empathised with.
I was sorry to finish this book, it left me breathless and moved in a way that few others before have managed and deserves to become a 'classic' in every sense of the word.

An enduring masterpiece, 24 Mar 2008
Sometimes, when reading a big book, one gets the feeling that the author set out to achieve size, as if that in itself might suggest certain adjectives from a reader or reviewer - weighty, significant, deep, serious, complex, extensive, perhaps. Sometimes - rarely, in fact - one reads a big book and becomes lost in its size, lost in the sense that one ceases to notice the hundreds passing by, as the work creates its own time, defines its own experience, shares its own world. Even then, reaching the end can often be merely trite, just a running out of steam, the process thoroughly engaging, the product, however, something of a let down. Rarely, very rarely indeed, one reads a big book that actually needs its size, justifies itself, continues to surprise as well as enchant and then, finally, stuns. Margaret Atwood's Blind Assassin is such a book, a giant in every sense, a masterpiece beyond question.

Blind Assassin was awarded the Booker prize in 2000 and charts intersecting histories of two well-to-do Canadian families, Chase and Griffen. The two Chase sisters, Iris and Laura, are quite different people. Born into the relative opulence of a Canadian manufacturing family, they have a private education of sorts, experienced throughout and yet alongside something vaguely like a childhood. Various aspects of twentieth century history impinge upon their lives and eventually force their family to reassess its status. Economic downturn, war and family tragedy take their toll on the father, who becomes less able to manage either his own life or his business. Something has to give. Ways of coping must be found.

Iris, the elder sister, is the first person narrator of about half of the book, the other half being devoted to a book within a book, a novel in the name of Laura, the younger sister. This novel, entitled The Blind Assassin, is an eclectic mix of experience, sex, fantasy and politics. It has made a name for Laura and retains a significant cult following many years after its publication. Laura, herself, died in a car accident. She drove off a bridge into a ravine. The car belonged to Iris. There was never any real explanation for the event.

Iris, meanwhile, has been married off to an older man, a Griffen, who seems to treat her like so much chattel. But then he is an industrialist with the wherewithal, not to mention capital, to assist the bride's family business in its time of need. Iris, therefore, experiences the Canadian equivalent of an arranged marriage. Perhaps the word marriage is a little overstated. The partnership could be better described as a merger, or a union, if that were not a dirty word because of its political connotation.

And so the octogenarian Iris, clearly anticipating the end of her days, embarks upon a cathartic outpouring of personal and family history in the hope that an estranged granddaughter might just understand a little about other peoples' motives.

The book takes us through Canada and north America, across to Europe, via an imagined universe, to political commitment, direct action and its inevitable reaction. Iris needs to write it all down. And so she works her story out, constructing it, perhaps reconstructing it, maybe inventing it from memory and relived experience against a backdrop of contemporary Canada and her own failing health. Her vulnerability, in the end, is our debt, our penance, perhaps. She is a wise old woman with much to hide, but her acerbic wit is undiminished by age, her observations of others stunningly perspicacious.

It is not often that a novel, a mere flight of another's fancy, achieves the subtle, stunning and surely enduring power of the Blind Assassin.


Uneven, and largely unnecessary..., 29 Dec 2007
I really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale and, while I normally steer away from Booker prizewinners, I decided to give this a go.

It would certainly be unreasonable to deny that Atwood has a formidable command of the English language, and great skill in deploying it. There are about 7,000 metaphors and similes here, and nearly every one of them works. In that respect, I found it a surprisingly easy read, with a good flow to the prose, and a well-established context.

However, I would quibble with the idea that this is a great book. Even after 600 pages, I didn't feel I knew Iris very well - she was often an opaque figure, who really only became real when she got old and crabby. The early Iris was a blank, remote cipher. Laura was, I presume, intended to be enigmatic, but for me she held no real allure.

The narrative is odd. Considering it covers an entire life, it often dwells on the inconsequential, and skips over the important. Key events like births, weddings, deaths; these are all dispatched far too quickly. Maybe this was intentional, but it didn't read that way - it just read as uneven, and as if the reader didn't matter.

All in all, there was no dramatic tension at any point. The story drifted on, albeit that the splicing between one "story" and the other was poorly done, adding to the unevenness. I didn't really care what happened to Laura, or who was related to whom. It was all background, no foreground; and Atwood's failure to really emphasise what was important left it all feeling like a very intelligently-produced screensaver.

For me, this book is about 300 pages too long, and lacks a clear purpose. It tells of a life that has little to recommend its' telling. Maybe the Booker was a "lifetime achievement" rather than for this book alone, or maybe the Booker just goes to overrated, over-long books.

A compelling read, 06 Jan 2009
The blind assassin is a compelling read, leaving you gripped to practically every word. Atwood has the innate ability to keep her readers in suspense and yet still keep the momentum of the story going. Iris Griffen the focal character writes in intimate detail the background and history of her once prestigious family and its unfortunate demise. By doing so, Iris dragged up in her endeavour the mystery and clandestine past that had surrounded a death in her family, a death which had followed her for the majority of her adult life. This novel is not only thrilling and intriguing but utterly believable. Margaret Atwood truly grasps human emotion; her empathic nature completely makes the protagonist both credible and authentic, she is able to express the views of both the young and the elderly to exact precision. Atwood keeps the mystique of the story by the juxtaposition of the different points of view throughout the tale and the different time frames. It is clear a great deal of research has been put into the completion of the book, her understanding of social history throughout both the 19th and 20th centuries is quite clear which just makes the story even more realistic. However, following the text can become perplexing at times with the lack of quotation marks, as you can lose track of where a conversation is going or who said what within the discussion, another problem that occurs when reading the novel is that you are not always immediately sure, from whose point of view you are reading but it does soon become clear and when you manage to come to terms with these minor obstacles I'm sure that most people will find it, as I did, a thoroughly enjoyable read.

From Buttons to Bestsellers, 08 Nov 2008
This is a tricky one. There's no doubting Atwood's ability as a writer; her prose is consistently elegant (although I do have a few reservations about some incongruous vernacular, such as the repeated use of the word "nicked" when describing theft, but perhaps I'm being picky), and her descriptive powers are notable. The problem I have with this work is that it lacks synergy. Quite the opposite is in fact the case, with the whole falling short of the sum of the parts.

As a dynastic record, following the ups and downs of the prominent Canadian family at the book's core, the novel works well in an episodic way. The two sister's lives are chronicled with wit and poignancy. There is, however, a good deal of predictability to their fates. This is the story of a privileged family behaving in a manner to which most readers will be accustomed. Because of this familiarity the novel as a whole is not as successful as it might have been. There's much to recommend this book but there could have been so much more.

As an overall package this book warrants three stars, but, due to the high quality of the writing it earns four.

Blindingly beautiful, 09 Aug 2008
The Blind Assassin is spellbinding, haunting and bewitching. Atwood's gloriously conrolled use of poignant and delicate prose encapsulates love, passion and loss throughout three time periods with a true understanding of the human spirit which makes for a timeless and unforgetable piece of literature.
Not since Guy de Maupassant has an author managed to so untterly captivate my imagination and utterly absorb me into their imaginings. Atwood's intricately constructed narrative weaves seamlessly in and out of time and landscape involving the reader so intensely it is almost disappointing when the story finally reaches it's powerfully emotional conclusion. The novel is not only readable, it is hard not to be 'read' back by it; the characters are not only so beautifully defined as to be believed but are also so real as to be empathised with.
I was sorry to finish this book, it left me breathless and moved in a way that few others before have managed and deserves to become a 'classic' in every sense of the word.

An enduring masterpiece, 24 Mar 2008
Sometimes, when reading a big book, one gets the feeling that the author set out to achieve size, as if that in itself might suggest certain adjectives from a reader or reviewer - weighty, significant, deep, serious, complex, extensive, perhaps. Sometimes - rarely, in fact - one reads a big book and becomes lost in its size, lost in the sense that one ceases to notice the hundreds passing by, as the work creates its own time, defines its own experience, shares its own world. Even then, reaching the end can often be merely trite, just a running out of steam, the process thoroughly engaging, the product, however, something of a let down. Rarely, very rarely indeed, one reads a big book that actually needs its size, justifies itself, continues to surprise as well as enchant and then, finally, stuns. Margaret Atwood's Blind Assassin is such a book, a giant in every sense, a masterpiece beyond question.

Blind Assassin was awarded the Booker prize in 2000 and charts intersecting histories of two well-to-do Canadian families, Chase and Griffen. The two Chase sisters, Iris and Laura, are quite different people. Born into the relative opulence of a Canadian manufacturing family, they have a private education of sorts, experienced throughout and yet alongside something vaguely like a childhood. Various aspects of twentieth century history impinge upon their lives and eventually force their family to reassess its status. Economic downturn, war and family tragedy take their toll on the father, who becomes less able to manage either his own life or his business. Something has to give. Ways of coping must be found.

Iris, the elder sister, is the first person narrator of about half of the book, the other half being devoted to a book within a book, a novel in the name of Laura, the younger sister. This novel, entitled The Blind Assassin, is an eclectic mix of experience, sex, fantasy and politics. It has made a name for Laura and retains a significant cult following many years after its publication. Laura, herself, died in a car accident. She drove off a bridge into a ravine. The car belonged to Iris. There was never any real explanation for the event.

Iris, meanwhile, has been married off to an older man, a Griffen, who seems to treat her like so much chattel. But then he is an industrialist with the wherewithal, not to mention capital, to assist the bride's family business in its time of need. Iris, therefore, experiences the Canadian equivalent of an arranged marriage. Perhaps the word marriage is a little overstated. The partnership could be better described as a merger, or a union, if that were not a dirty word because of its political connotation.

And so the octogenarian Iris, clearly anticipating the end of her days, embarks upon a cathartic outpouring of personal and family history in the hope that an estranged granddaughter might just understand a little about other peoples' motives.

The book takes us through Canada and north America, across to Europe, via an imagined universe, to political commitment, direct action and its inevitable reaction. Iris needs to write it all down. And so she works her story out, constructing it, perhaps reconstructing it, maybe inventing it from memory and relived experience against a backdrop of contemporary Canada and her own failing health. Her vulnerability, in the end, is our debt, our penance, perhaps. She is a wise old woman with much to hide, but her acerbic wit is undiminished by age, her observations of others stunningly perspicacious.

It is not often that a novel, a mere flight of another's fancy, achieves the subtle, stunning and surely enduring power of the Blind Assassin.


Uneven, and largely unnecessary..., 29 Dec 2007
I really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale and, while I normally steer away from Booker prizewinners, I decided to give this a go.

It would certainly be unreasonable to deny that Atwood has a formidable command of the English language, and great skill in deploying it. There are about 7,000 metaphors and similes here, and nearly every one of them works. In that respect, I found it a surprisingly easy read, with a good flow to the prose, and a well-established context.

However, I would quibble with the idea that this is a great book. Even after 600 pages, I didn't feel I knew Iris very well - she was often an opaque figure, who really only became real when she got old and crabby. The early Iris was a blank, remote cipher. Laura was, I presume, intended to be enigmatic, but for me she held no real allure.

The narrative is odd. Considering it covers an entire life, it often dwells on the inconsequential, and skips over the important. Key events like births, weddings, deaths; these are all dispatched far too quickly. Maybe this was intentional, but it didn't read that way - it just read as uneven, and as if the reader didn't matter.

All in all, there was no dramatic tension at any point. The story drifted on, albeit that the splicing between one "story" and the other was poorly done, adding to the unevenness. I didn't really care what happened to Laura, or who was related to whom. It was all background, no foreground; and Atwood's failure to really emphasise what was important left it all feeling like a very intelligently-produced screensaver.

For me, this book is about 300 pages too long, and lacks a clear purpose. It tells of a life that has little to recommend its' telling. Maybe the Booker was a "lifetime achievement" rather than for this book alone, or maybe the Booker just goes to overrated, over-long books.

Skillful character writing, 09 Aug 2005
In 'Life Before Man', Margaret Atwood presents us with several lead characters, displays their troubled souls and lets their worlds overlap. No-one would envy any one of these characters but perhaps we can identify with some of their traits. In Elizabeth we witness the self-destruction that comes from excessive self-control - I wanted to slap her, shake her, anything to make her speak out. I watched with sadness Lesje's innocent quest to find love that will not suffocate her, although she risks becoming the one who smothers. Nate is almost docile. He tries to find happiness but is pulled apart between Elizabeth's oppressive coldness and Lesje's neediness.

This is not a cheerful book, but nor is it overly morose. I found that I could see what was going to happen, how each character would feel about it and how they would try to deal with it. But being able to foretell the consequences does not mean that the book is dull or predictable, rather that the characters seem so real that I could second guess them. Margaret Atwood has written these people so well that they feel as familiar as friends or colleagues - a skill demonstrated by only the best of writers. You will look upon them as you would a friend who is ignoring your wise advice and heading for a downfall! If you are a fan of Atwood's work then this is represents a worthy addition to your bookshelf.

The traces we leave behind, 25 Oct 2000
What is the nature of a fossil? Using a quote from Bjorn Kurten to precede this novel, Atwood illuminates much of what is to follow: a fossil is not necessarily a part of an organism, but could be a record of its activity: a footprint, perhaps. It could be a prehistoric equivalent of graffiti.

Using the fossil as the central metaphor for her novel, Atwood tells the story of three individuals whose lives collide with cataclysmic effect. Told in episodes from the three different perspectives the reader uncovers the story much like an archaeologist might uncover the treasures of a prehistoric site. Elizabeth, Nate and Lesje are put under the microscope and steadily stripped down to their essential components by a narrator (although a few of Elizabeth's episodes are told in the first person) who is as objective as a scientist. We all know, however, that scientists are not always objective.

What makes this novel so fascinating is this interplay between cold fact and emotional involvement. Atwood refuses to follow easy paths to happy solutions and the reader senses early on that a tragic outcome is as inevitable as the eventual extinction of Lesje's beloved dinosaurs. Her characters are neither heroes nor villains, neither heartless monsters nor innocent victims. They are driven towards their fates by forces as much in their own natures as in the natures of those around them.

As any true Atwood devotee would expect, the writing is sharp, witty, observant and totally compelling. It is perhaps richer in symbolism than many of her other novels, yet it does not tread the mystical and poetic waters (so to speak) of "Surfacing". It reads deceptively easily and the bubbling volcano at its core is implied rather than stated. If the novel has a possible downfall it could lie in this subtlety, which many readers might not perceive.

"Life before man" is a landmark novel, even for an author who is surely one of the greatest literary minds of our age. Its effect is devastating in the best possible sense, making the reader reflect on the consequences of actions which might seem insignificant at the time, but can leave traces far beyond their original scope.

Clever and colourful tales which challenge gender roles, 22 Feb 2000
This is a collection of short stories in the league of Carter and Winterton. Atwoods tales challenge patriarchal values, though her overall themes are often darker and more ambigoues. If you liked Wintertons 'Sexing the Cherry' or Carters 'The Bloody Chamber', give this one a go. Bluebeards Egg is the high light of the book though, the other stories appear a little empty in comparrison.

AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!, 03 Jan 2009
One of the best books I've ever read. No review could ever do it justice.

Fact to fiction, 08 May 2008
This is a very well written book. Atwood takes a double murder which is fact and writes fiction around it.It really held me. I actually got to like Grace, i wanted to learn more and more about her. It also leaves you not really knowing what to belive. Very good book.

Based on real life events, 08 Jan 2008
Based on the true story of Grace Marks who was the most infamous woman in Canada in the 1840's. Her and James McDermott were accused of murdering their male employer Mr Thomas Kinnear and his housekeeper cum mistress Nancy Montgomery who was pregnant at the time. McDermott was said to have killed Mr Kinnear with a shotgun after earlier in the day the two of them strangled Nancy. Possible reasons were that McDermott was in love with Grace and Grace was in love with Mr Kinnear.

The tale picks up with Grace in jail sometime after McDermott has been han