In the world of the near future, who will control women's bodies?
Offred is a Handmaid in the Republic of Gilead. She may leave the home of the Commander and his wife once a day to walk to food markets whose signs are now pictures instead of words because women are no longer allowed to read. She must lie on her back once a month and pray that the Commander makes her pregnant, because in an age of declining births, Offred and the other Handmaids are only valued if their ovaries are viable.
Offred can remember the days before, when she lived and made love with her husband Luke; when she played with and protected her daughter; when she had a job, money of her own, and access to knowledge. But all of that is gone now....
***
My Thoughts:
“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum."
Translation: Don't let the bastards grind you down.
So, I'd heard so much about this book and author from various sources, and finally decided to read it. And it pleasantly surprised me. Its a dystopian novel set in the US, some time in the future. Whenever I heard the words dystopian/utopian I used to think of science fiction and all things strange and unknown; things that I don't really like reading about. But this novel was different.
The whole premise of a society governed by a sexist Christian cult-type regime is incredible and yet very disturbing!. I mean if it was something about aliens ruling the world and such, I wouldn't really care. But this, it could happen! Just imagining such a world gives me the creeps!!
Anyway, back to the book, I loved the way its been written. You feel the narrator's gradual acceptance of her situation, and consequent struggle against insanity, yourself.
What I was a little unsettled about was the ending. I mean, does she reach safety, is it a trap?? Who knows?
I would like to think that she reached safety, and found her daughter eventually. And, to make it a little realistic, her husband would have died long back, but Nick would also got to safety and they lived happily (a tleast as happy as they can be after going through such an ordeal) ever after.
The End.
***
Memorable Lines:
Ignoring isn’t the same as ignorance, you have to work at it.
But who can remember pain, once it’s over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.
Better never means better for everyone... It always means worse, for some.
When we think of the past it's the beautiful things we pick out. We want to
believe it was all like that.
The moment of betrayal is the worst, the moment when you know beyond any doubt that you've been betrayed: that some other human being has wished you that much evil.
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.
You don't tell a story only to yourself. There's always someone else. Even when
there is no one.
We thought we had such problems. How were we to know we were happy?
Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations.
One and one and one and one doesn't equal four. Each one remains unique, there is no way of joining them together. They cannot be exchanged, one for the other. They cannot replace each other.
I believe in the resistance as I believe there can be no light without shadow; or rather, no shadow unless there is also light.
You can't help what you feel, but you can help how you behave.
By telling you anything at all I'm at least believing in you, I believe you're
there, I believe you into being.
I would like to believe this is a story I’m telling. I need to believe it. I
must believe it. Those who can believe that such stories are only stories have a
better chance. If it’s a story I’m telling, then I have control over the ending.
Then there will be an ending, to the story, and real life will come after it. I
can pick up where I left off.
I wish this story were different. I wish it were more civilized. I wish it showed me in a better light, if not happier, than at least more active, less hesitant, less distracted by trivia. I wish it had more shape. I wish t were about love, or about sudden realizations important to one’s life, or even about sunsets, birds, rainstorms, or snow. I’m sorry there is so much pain in this story. I’m sorry it’s in fragments, like a body caught in crossfire or pulled apart by force. But there is nothing I can do to change it.
Sanity is a valuable possession: I hoard it the way people once hoarded money.
The world is full of weapons if you're looking for them.
I wish I was ignorant, so I didn't know how ignorant I am.
I don’t even close my eyes. Out there or inside my head, it’s an equal darkness.
Perhaps he's reached that state of intoxication which power is said to inspire, the state in which you believe you are indispensable and can therefore do anything, absolutely anything you feel like, anything at all.
This is one of the things I wasn't prepared for - the amount of unfilled time, the long parentheses of nothing.
Live in the present, make the most of it, it's all you've got.
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