The book is The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. It was originally published in 1986 by Houghton Mifflin Company. I read the 1998 paperback edition. I read it in May of 2023.
The title is the narrator’s story. She is the handmaid telling the tale. It’s set in a dystopian future America where all childbearing women, the handmaids, have taken a subservient slave-like role in the society. Because the free women are barren, the handmaids role is to have babies.
I read this book because of the TV show. I haven’t seen it but it’s become culturally relevant so I wanted to see what all these chicks are crying about.
It’s a feminist book but it was a lot fairer than I thought it would be. Maybe because it was written in 1986, before the wokesters drove the progressive car completely off the cliff, it was more even handed that expected.
It didn’t bash religion that bad either. Atwood makes it clear that the Christianity presented in the book is a false twisted version of it. In fact, religious Christians play a lifesaving role in the story.
I haven’t seen the show but I’ve seen clips and they seem way less generous and more cynical towards Christianity. The book is more feminist than anti-Christian.
The characters were clear and the narrative stayed on point. No wasted paper.
The tone of the book is dark and gloomy. Totalitarian dystopian atmosphere. It builds suspense like a cold war spy novel. Atwood is a good writer.
The characters had dimension to them. They weren’t all cardboard cutouts although some were. There was depth to people’s story arc. Nothing was really confusing. No loose ends left hanging.
The obvious villains are the bad men. But there were some good men. They seemed more aloof and ignorant to the plight of women than outright cruel or evil.
I’m not sure I’d recommend this book to anyone. While Atwood is a talented writer, she’s not so good that it’s worth it to wade through the feminist propaganda.
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Notable Quotables
I think about laundromats. What I wore to them: shorts, jeans, jogging pants. What I put into them: my own clothes, my own soap, I had my own money, money I had earned myself. I think about having such control.
Now we walk along the same street, in red pairs, and no man shouts obscenities at us, speaks to us, touches us. No one whistles. There is more than one kind of freedom, said Aunt Lydia. Freedom to and freedom from. In the days of anarchy, it was freedom to. Now you are being given freedom from. Don’t underrate it. (p24)
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound Could save a wretch like a me,
Who once was lost, but now am found, Was bound, but now am free.
I don’t know if the words are right. I can’t remember. Such songs are not sung anymore in public, especially the ones that use words like free. They are considered too dangerous. They belong to outlawed sects. (p54)
I put on my clothes again, behind the screen. My hands are shaking. Why am I frightened? I’ve crossed no boundaries, I’ve given no trust, taken no risk, all is safe. It’s the choice that terrifies me. A way out, a salvation. (p61)
You must cultivate poverty of spirit. Blessed are the meek. She didn’t go on to say anything about inheriting the earth. (p64)
For lunch it was the Beatitudes. Blessed be this, blessed be that. They played it from a tape, so not even an Aunt would be guilty of the sin of reading. The voice was a man’s. Blessed be the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are the merciful. Blessed be the meek. Blessed are the silent. I knew they made that up, I knew it was wrong, and they left things out, too, but there was no way of checking. Blessed be those that mourn, for they shall be comforted. (p89)
But if you happen to be a man, sometime in the future, and you’ve made it this far, please remember: you will never be subject to the temptation or feeling you must forgive, a man, as a woman. It’s difficult to resist, believe me. But remember that forgiveness too is a power. To beg for it is a power, and to withhold or bestow it is a power, perhaps the greatest. Maybe none of this is about control. Maybe it isn’t really about who can own whom, who can do what to whom and it, even as far as death. Maybe it isn’t about who can sit and who has to kneel or stand or get away with lie down, legs spread open. Maybe it’s about who can do what to whom and be forgiven for it. Never tell me it amounts to the same thing. (p134-135)
He kissed me then, as if now I’d said that, things could get back to normal. But something had shifted, some balance. I felt shrunken, so that when he put his arms around me, gathering me up, I was small as a doll. I felt love going forward without me.
He doesn’t mind this, I thought. He doesn’t mind it at all. Maybe he even likes it. We are not each other’s, anymore. Instead, I am his. (p182)
Money was the only measure of worth, for everyone, they got no respect as mothers. No wonder they were giving up on the whole business. This way they’re protected, they can fulfill their biological destinies encouragement. Now, tell in peace. With full support and me. You’re an intelligent person, Alike to hear what you think. What
Love, I said. did we overlook?
Love? said the Commander. What kind of love? Falling in love, I said. The Commander looked at me with his candid boy’s eyes.
Oh yes, he said. I’ve read the magazines, that’s what they were pushing, wasn’t it? (p219-220)
One of the hardest things was knowing that these other people were risking their lives for you when they didn’t have to. But they said they were doing it for religious reasons and I shouldn’t take it personally. That helped some. They had silent prayers every evening. I found that hard to get used to at first, because it reminded me too much of that shit at the Center. It made me feel sick to my stomach, to tell you the truth. had to make an effort, tell myself that this was a whole other thing. I hated it at first. But I figure it was what kept them going. They knew more or less what would happen to them if they got caught. (p247)
Solomon White 
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