Book #24: The Blind Assassin

Back when I read Go Tell It On The Mountain, I said I enjoyed James Baldwin as a writer even more than his book. The plot, the characters—all of that was excellent—but when I finished the book, his writing left more of an impression on me than his story.

I have the same type of feeling about Margaret Atwood and The Blind Assassin. The story—or multiple stories—developed slowly and had a big payoff at the end. But Atwood’s writing knocked me off my feet. Literally. Like, I fell down after reading page 289. Okay, not literally. But, figuratively speaking, Atwood picked me up and threw me down a staircase.

Last week, I posted about how well she nailed the voice of Iris Chase—the 83-year-old narrator. Atwood manages to show wit, snarkiness, regret, humor, self-deprecation and unbelievable wisdom and insight through this one character. I might have underlined more passages in this novel than any of the first 24.

If you’ve read anything about The Blind Assassin, you’re probably aware that the novel is several stories in one—all of which eventually tie together. You’ve got the main storyline—which is really two stories in one—present day Iris Chase, living alone, and carrying the weight of her family’s history and her mistakes on her shoulders.

Within that storyline, Iris also tells about growing up with her posthumously famous sister Laura, what led to Laura’s death (which isn’t a spoiler since the first sentence of the novel mentions it), how Iris ultimately married her father’s business competitor, her overbearing sister-in-law, and a massive amount of dramatic family history in small-town Canada.

Then, there’s the “novel within the novel”—an odd, hokey sci-fi story called, you guessed it, “The Blind Assassin” (presumably written by Laura Chase) which deals with a strange alien war on a strange planet called Zycron. And to further complicate the storylines, this sci-fi plot isn’t told by some omnipresent narrator—it’s told by an unnamed, enigmatic gypsy guy who meets an unnamed, enigmatic girl in seedy hotel rooms.

The story(ies) moves a little slow at times—especially in the middle of the book. So if you’re into more fast-paced reading, this book might not be for you.  But the last 50-75 pages really tied everything together seamlessly. Atwood knew exactly what she was doing the whole time.

If you’ve ever taken a basic creative writing class, you know one of the fundamental rules you always hear is “Show, don’t tell.” Atwood is a master of showing, not telling.

To the point where I knew something important was happening, but I had to go back and re-read passages to make sure I understood everything. At one key point late in the novel, Iris is thumbing through Laura’s notebook and discovers a strange, coded message her sister left behind. I probably read that passage ten times.

And I can’t say enough about Atwood’s incredible insight into the human mind. She just drops wisdom bombs all throughout this book. In yesterday’s post, I listed a bunch of my favorite one-liners. Here are a few of my favorite longer passages:

All of these lines come from the narrator, Iris Chase. How ’bout this beauty:

Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we’re still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It’s all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get? At the very least we want a witness. We can’t stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down.

Or this nugget of insight into the mind of the kids:

When you’re young, you think everything you do is disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing it away. You’re your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and people too–leave them behind. You don’t yet know about the habit they have, of coming back.

Or this passage about the aging of the body:

The body’s final trick is to absent itself. Just when you need it, just when you could use an arm or a leg, suddenly the body has other things to do. It falters, it buckles under you; it melts away as if made of snow, leaving nothing much. Two lumps of coal, an old hat, a grin made of pebbles. The bones dry sticks, easily broken.

So, so many powerful lines in The Blind Assassin. I could go on and on about that. But I won’t, for your sake.

I will say that the story has interesting parallel to I, Claudius. Iris’ husband, Richard Griffen, is a powerful businessman and aspiring local politician. His sister, Winifred, though, is the “woman behind the man.”

Winifred has major jealousy issues with Iris–some kind of strange, incestious crush on her brother in which she has to have his affections over his own wife. A bit weird, yes?

But it reminded me of Augustus and Livia’s relationship in I, Claudius. Though they were actually married–not brother and sister–Livia was pulling the puppet strings on Augustus in the same way Winifred plays her brother, Richard, like a fiddle.

Maybe that’s a bad comparison, but I thought it was worth noting.

All in all, The Blind Assassin is a strong novel. From what I’ve read, some people aren’t sure what all the fuss is about, and some people absolutely love the novel.

I can’t say I fall in either camp, but I will say I definitely lean more toward highly recommending the book. Even though, I will admit, it’s not without its flaws–the slow developing plot being one, even if it was purposeful.

If anything, you’ll appreciate this book for the beauty of Margaret Atwood’s writing and wisdom. Without a doubt, The Handmaid’s Tale will be on my list of books to read after I finish this project. Call me an Atwood fan.

Other Stuff

The Opening Line: “Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge.” (My new favorite opener.)

The Meaning: “The Blind Assassin” actually refers to the novel within the novel, presumably written by Laura Chase. It also has a metaphorical meaning, and I can’t really tell you my thoughts on that without spoiling the plot.

Highlights: I felt like I learned something from reading The Blind Assassin. It’s not just a story, but it’s full of so much wisdom about what it means to be human. Atwood’s writing is exceptional. Iris Chase is a well-written and well-thought-out character.

Lowlights: The plot develops slowly. The sci-fi story can get distracting and is much less enjoyable than the main plot line, which follows Iris Chase.

Memorable Line: Too many to choose from, but I’ll pick this one because it made me laugh the hardest: “Soon you’ll regret all that sun-tanning. Your face will look like a testicle.” – Iris Chase

Final Thoughts: The Blind Assassin is an excellent introduction to Margaret Atwood. Iris Chase and her eccentric sister, Laura, are both powerful, well-developed characters. Winifred Griffen is an excellent villain, easy to dislike. Intriguing story by an even more intriguing author.