My voyages with Margaret Atwood
Every two decades, or so, Margaret Atwood pens a thick and juicy book that’s an overview of what she’s been up to. Oh you know, a little bit of this (meaning speaking engagements at the finest Universities on the planet), a little bit of that (an essay she wrote for The Guardian, commencement speeches, more television shows, or just another award ceremony speech where she’s recognized for that witty, smart mind) and then, of course, also, a whole lot of gorgeous meandering well-argued ideas.
Her latest of these books, “Burning Questions,” I picked up on a Friday afternoon and finished on Sunday evening; I read until my eyes were bleeding. But what did I care, all I needed was to swim breaststroke inside her brain and see what she was kicking around. I mean they’re calling America an Anocracy and I intend to know before they hang me on the wall - so I also, rightfully so, have questions.
Some of her inquiries are:
What do zombies have to do with authoritarianism? Why do people everywhere, in all cultures, tell stories? How much of yourself can you give away without evaporating? How do we avoid totalitarianism? How can we live on our planet? Is it true? And is it fair?
Something that Atwood says, over and over in interviews, is that no-one thinks of themselves as evil. They are convinced that what they are doing is right. She argues that the doer is so honorable in their own mind that they are basically blinded by reality (enter Shakespeare characters, Putin or Orbán here).
And this is why travel is so crucial. You’re leaving what you understand and believe - and choose - in order to venture into the world (and if you’re brave enough) to be surprised and have your world view and stance of yourself challenged. You’re allowing the world to flaunt you a mirror of yourself. It hands it to you and you can pitch on whether to gaze into it, or not. But it’s just so much harder to think you’re the ‘just’ and ‘moral’ one, when you’re seeing suffering around you, or when you’re humbled by people who have far less than you, sharing what little they do have with you.
Atwood’s new book takes out a thin, sharp blade and carves you open right from the top of your head all the way down each leg, laying you fully mother bare. When you read through these essays - and you’re not dimwitted - your mind will wander and start arguing with itself: Do I really think this? Do I agree with her? Are we totally fucked?
And yes we are totally fucked. But, there is no good and there is no bad, only thinking makes it so. So when we’re struggling with The Now - “the turbulent times” - it is worth knowing that this is no different to centuries ago, and will be no different to centuries coming. Humans are always this way: creating and destroying. We say that we want change and we summon hope, but what we really want is to win the game. With or without mushrooms you can watch the film Everything Everywhere All at Once and see that nothing really matters, we’re all inside the wash cycle together.
And this is where Atwood’s idea of revolution fascinates me. Because if you listen to what people want - it’s a putsch, a dramatic change (voters turned to the Orange nightmare, now young voters are fed up but don’t vote), virtually anything that turns the world from its axis. But even the Anarchists can’t figure it all out. The word ‘revolution’ comes from The Wheel of Fortune. So a revolution doesn’t necessarily bring positive outcomes: the ones at the top fall and ones at the bottom rise. Whether they are wicked or virtuous. So fuckit, we are all aboard. The call is coming from inside the washing machine.
I interviewed Atwood years before (see below), and focused on her Writing Retreat on Pelee Island - the most southerly place in Canada and is a major thruway for migratory birds - and discovered that she is an ornithologist. But what I also sussed out about her is that she’s not a sage, or fortune teller (that’s too fucking easy - can journalists please stop asking her that) - she’s a beacon of hard-to-face-truths, an illuminator of things that have already happened (and will happen again). Just think Salem witch trials, theocracies, the biblical Jacob who slept with his handmaid so his wife could have a child, WW2, the Cold War, dictatorships, The Trumps, book burning, the insane conspiracy theories I yawn at, and I could go on. Oh and don’t miss her Atlantic article - “I INVENTED GILEAD. THE SUPREME COURT IS MAKING IT REAL.”
Speaking of book burning, to benefit PEN America’s work defending freedom of expression, Penguin Random House partnered with Atwood and Sotheby’s to offer an unburnable edition of the classic, and often banned, novel ‘The Handmaid’s Tale.’
No wonder she always has this twinkle in her eye…
Here is my interview with Atwood:
Pelee Island - The literary island of Margaret Atwood
A remote island off Canada’s southernmost point has become a beacon for writers, and the ultimate in offline living.
This place that Atwood has used to escape this thronged world, in order to create her own fictional worlds, has been a little island hidden away: Pelee Island, Ontario, right in Lake Erie in Canada’s most southern point. With a population of roughly 170, there is a small ferry that runs from the mainland and delivers you on this vineyard filled island. The biggest noise here comes from its bird population, for which Atwood has a particular passion. This island is part of two major migratory bird routes, the Atlantic Flyway and the Mississippi flyway. And if you’re a birder, you’ll understand the significance as Atwood does.