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.
