Margaret AtCould Have Done Better

We all desire to be remembered, to elude the grasping hands of time, for we cant stand

the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down (Atwood 95). We

attempt to incite change in one way or another, to cement our legacies. And authors of classic

novels are successful in this endeavor-- they create works that are sufficiently impactful,

groundbreaking, or profound to survive the test of time and warrant close academic examination.

On the other hand, it is common even for novels that display many redeeming qualities to slip

into obscurity for a myriad of reasons. Case in point, Margaret Atwoods historic fiction

bildungsroman The Blind Assassin is artfully written and highlights the early 20th century

womans plight; however, it does not display many of the inherent characteristics of a classic

novel necessary to its inclusion in the literary canon-- Atwoods novel is more accurately

classified as a quasi-classic.

In The Blind Assassin, Atwood comments on a host of ... topics (Hepburn), the most

prominent of which are gender roles and misogyny; she gives voice to the women of the early

1900s that were stifled by suffocating societal standards. This characteristic of the novel is one of

its most robust because it is one of the sole contributors to the deeper value of the text. Iris

Chase, the narrator of the novels primary storyline, details her lifes story from the present. Now

an octogenarian, Iris is able to narrate with the freedom and confidence of [her] age... now free

from the fear of the gaze of the audience and men (Labudov 21). As a young woman, Iris and

her sister Laura were constantly at the mercy of men-- their father, their various tutors, and

eventually Iris husband-- and had little autonomy. In fact, Iris was virtually forced into marriage

with Richard Griffen, an ambitious industrialist. Atwoods criticism of societal expectations for
women is palpable because the sisters were not content with their lives of subjugation; they

longed for something more fulfilling. When Iris later stumbles upon a photograph from her

wedding day, she comments that she and the girl in the picture have ceased to be the same

person (Atwood 239)-- in retrospect, she acknowledges that her marriage trampled her

individuality and effectually stole her identity; this acknowledgement could never have been

made during her young adulthood. Throughout their relationship, Richard was manipulative and

lied to Iris, yet her financial dependence rendered her powerless to leave Richard, regardless of

her wishes. In fact, later in the novel, it surfaces that Richard repeatedly raped Laura; she is

never avenged. However, after Richards death, Iris makes the decision to become heard and

visible (Labudov 32). Even though she is aging-- and becoming physically blind-- Iris refuses

to be blind to injustice and violence (Labudov 32); she makes the conscious decision to

become independent and seek justice for herself and for her sister. This portrayal of common

features of abusive relationships-- sexual abuse and financial dependence-- leaves the audience

with a feeling of indignation over the treatment of the Chase daughters, preventing Atwoods

work from being written off as lacking of literary merit; classic novels have a discernable impact

on the audiences mindset or life. Atwoods characters and their experiences are all tied

characteristically to a polemic on the social stature of women (Davies 1138); similar critiques

surface in many of Atwoods novels. The Blind Assassin offers a clear condemnation of gender

roles and misogyny.

In addition to its explicit comment on gender discrimination, the novels style is eloquent

and moving. The Blind Assassin is stylistically appealing, yet lacks other hallmarks of literary

merit, so despite its allure, it is no more than superficially a classic novel. Atwoods descriptions

of mundane objects and events are original and surprisingly accurate, especially due to very
specific yet appropriate metaphors. For example, Iris articulates that she prefers to be upright

and contained an urn in the daylight (Atwood 43). Not only does this phrasing express Iris

sentiment that she dislikes spontaneity and disorderliness, Atwood conveys Iris geriatric one-

foot-in-the-grave mentality. The novel is compelling because it features bravura performances

of language (Hepburn) and artful crafting of emotions and circumstances. When describing an

ice skating scene from her parents young adulthood, Iris writes that under their feet was the

ice and under that the river water, with its eddies and undertows, dark but unseen... that time

[was]... so solid to all appearances, but thin ice all the same. Beneath the surfaces of things was

the unsaid, boiling slowly (Atwood 69). Atwoods imagery and foreshadowing aptly imply the

imminence of upheaval. Furthermore, as author Allan Hepburn points out, Atwood crafts round,

believable characters and settings. Iris and Lauras caretaker Reenie speaks only in cliches and

colloquialisms; Iris speaks in a euphemistic manner that is perfectly suited to her time: one

person is a dumb bunny (Atwood 332), another is hopped up on drugs (Atwood 334). As

Hepburn also establishes, Atwood displays perfect pitch in recording these nuances of

language, adding to the aesthetic appeal of the novel. In fact, the characters in The Blind

Assassin are so carefully constructed that Atwood says she wrote Iris introduction three times

before settling on the final product: she eventually gave Iris full rein, and let her speak for

herself in the first person. Atwood was equally precise in crafting the setting: the town of Port

Ticonderoga is in itself a character in the book, and combines elements from four Canadian

cities (Atwood). Because she is so adept at modeling her characters and setting after reality,

Atwoods stylism is remarkable. However, because it is not paired with other, arguably more

critical, classic qualities, The Blind Assassin is predominantly a superficial classic.

 Despite the fact that the topic, plot, and stylistic approach to the novel justify reading the

novel, and even allow for some significance to be gleaned from it, too much of The Blind

Assassin is strenuous to digest because it is overly convoluted. The structure of Atwoods book,

a multilayered story-within-a-story-within-a-story construction (Mallon), is at times confusing

and hard to follow. The novel jumps around between Iris retelling of her life, multiple pulp

science fiction stories that are narrated by one of Lauras characters, and Lauras posthumous

novel--also confusingly titled The Blind Assassin. Although there are some vague threads that

link the various plotlines-- such as Lauras protagonist hiding her lover while he evades the law,

just as Iris and Laura hid Alex Thomas in their adolescence when he was suspected for arson--

the stories are primarily several disparate... threads struggl[ing] for space (Davies 1138). It is

often difficult to keep the largely unrelated storylines and characters straight, and it is even more

difficult to find meaning among the labyrinthine intricacy. This attribute is detrimental to the

novels literary merit and is justification for its exclusion from the literary canon. Additionally,

while it is clear that The Blind Assassin is intended to criticize the treatment of women in the

early 20th century, it is unclear if Atwood intends to critique other inequalities as well. In her

tales of the pulp science fiction planet Zycron, a part of the novel-within-a-novel storyline,

Atwood displays an allegorical bent (Mallon) that makes it difficult to determine if she is

halfheartedly attempting to push through a secondary theme, or simply presenting a storyline.

For example, the narrator of the Zycronian tales declares that it was punishable by death to

cover your face if you were not a Snilfard, since imperviousness and subterfuge were reserved

for the nobility (Atwood 16). This markedly Bolshevik (Atwood 17) allegorical comment on

socioeconomic inequality is not ever revisited in such a way as to allow for it to be a viable

theme, but it is too pointed to be an offhand remark. Because the audience is not presented with a
clear message to take away, The Blind Assassin will not stand the test of time, a task, according

to journalist and literary critic Esther Lombardi, that is something classic novels must

accomplish. This lack of a driving purpose behind the novel leaves it unconvincing and

forgettable.

In addition to the tangle of apologues and narratives, The Blind Assassin leaves multiple

loose ends untied. Most notably, when Alex Thomas departs Avilion, the Chase residence, he

leaves behind a list of fabricated words that sound vaguely stone-like, such as jocythn,

lazaris, and quartzephyr (Atwood 217). Throughout the rest of the novel, the reader ponders

the profoundness of this list; these questions are left unassuaged even after the final scene.

Moreover, there is a series of newspaper articles about the deaths of various characters

(Hepburn) interspersed throughout the chapters, but they never become clearly meaningful or

revealing on a thematic level. Classic novels must have a solid construction (Lombardi), which

in this case would translate into a fully-resolved plot arc. Although these are only minor

storylines, their lack of resolution is indicative of a larger issue. One of the main virtues of

classic novels is that by the resolution, they present a clear message; even if the reader has to

think deeply, they are left feeling satisfied that the plot has been resolved in an adequately neat

and meaningful fashion--a feat not accomplished by The Blind Assassin.

Although The Blind Assassin does include some symbols and motifs, they are too weak

and unrelated to a central theme to warrant the novels inclusion in the literary canon; in classic

novels, readers are not left questioning the significance of symbols. For example, in F. Scott

Fitzgeralds The Great Gatsby, a novel widely accepted as a classic, the green light on the end of

Daisys dock represents Gatsbys aspirations; the expanse of water separating them is the chasm

that prevents the realization of these dreams. The green light ties neatly to Fitzgeralds theme and
clearly furthers his meaning, as is the expectation for classic literature. In contrast, one symbol

that surfaces multiple times in The Blind Assassin is hands; they become a synecdoche for

service: the handmaid's hand, the hired hand (Hepburn). And because Lauras fans, scholars,

and others frequently ask for favors and information of Iris-- always motivated by ulterior

motives involving Laura-- Iris feels her secondhandedness acutely (Hepburn). At a pivotal

point in the story, on the day Iris and Laura are acquainted with Alex Thomas, a photo is taken; it

resurfaces decades later. Because Laura chopped herself out of the picture, there's a hand, cut by

the margin, scissored off at the wrist, resting on the grass as if discarded. Left to its own devices"

(Atwood 5). Lauras hand is a representation of her role in the novel and in her relatives lives,

but on the day she commits suicide, she covers her hands with white gloves, because, as Iris

articulates, she was washing her hands of me. Of all of us (Atwood 2). The most dominant

theme in the novel is womens struggles and empowerment. However, despite the ample

appearances of this symbol, there is never a clear connection made between hands and a central

theme; The Blind Assassin fails to demonstrate the continuity and cohesion expected of classic

literature.

While Margaret Atwoods The Blind Assassin features a belletristic style and tackles the

significant issue of the struggles endured by women, it is best categorized as quasi-classic

because it does not possess adequate literary merit or support a sufficiently profound read to be

considered a classic. The discrepant symbols and storylines diminish from the overall stature of

the novel; it will not be included in the literary canon or be integrated into most curricula; it will

not be studied deeply or endure the test of time in any academic sense. However, despite its

detriments, The Blind Assassin is an engaging and worthwhile read with some relevant and

gratifying commentary-- while its qualities are not sufficient to warrant its inclusion in the
literary canon, they certainly justify its inclusion on a Must-Reads list.