I don’t like the word ‘evil’: does anyone?
Well, some. If only for effect. The showrunners for this show, for instance.
[I’ve not watched it. But maybe I should: I had fun with the early seasons of Supernatural and, then, lost interest when the angels arrived. And I have enjoyed some of the Kings’ other shows, most recently The Good Fight—especially the last season.]
‘Evil’ seems to belong in films like The Bad Seed and The Exorcist, but it also gets applied to anyone you’d rather view as less-than human.
So, maybe it makes sense in a story that opens with a teenaged girl’s frustration at the control exerted over her by her mother.
Because she’s not seeing her as a person, only as a barrier of sorts. A restrictive barrier, daughter might say. A protective barrier, mother might retort.
“My Evil Mother” is one of the longer stories (with “Two Scorched Men” and “A Dusty Lunch”, both Nell and Tig stories, one from the collection’s first part, the other from the final part).
But it feels short.
Partly because of the crisp style that sets this collection apart.
Partly because, if you’ve read a lot of Atwood, there are so many familiar themes.
I already felt as though I knew this girl and her mother—a girl who eventually grows up. The story opens when she is pressured to break up with a boyfriend, but we also witness her introducing her mother and fiancée, and decades afterwards.
MARM 2024 PLANS
Launch (November 1)
Dancing Girls, “Training” (November 5)
Old Babes in the Wood, “My Evil Mother” (November 7)
Week Two: Update and Check-In (November 10)
Dancing Girls, “Lives of the Poets” (November 12)
Old Babes in the Wood, “The Dead Interview” (November 14)
Week Three: Update and Check-In (November 18)
Margaret Atwood’s 85th Birthday (November 18)
Dancing Girls, “Dancing Girls” (November 19)
Old Babes in the Wood, “Impatient Griselda” (November 21)
Week Four: Update and Check-In (November 24)
Dancing Girls, “Giving Birth” (November 26)
Old Babes in the Wood, “Bad Teeth” (November 28)
Wrap-Up (November 30)
The prose feels nearly perfect (check out the parallelism, and word selection, like ‘fornicating’ which is abundantly motherly, although you KNOW that MA knows all the synonyms). Even the informal elements feel sculpted (note the “arranged by me” where some wordier variation of “which I arranged by phone” could have been, the -ish in warmish, and the take-a-breath pauses in the m-dashed aside).
Finally they met; tea at the King Edward Hotel in downtown Toronto, arranged by me. I didn’t think my mother would kick up in such a genteel atmosphere, and she didn’t. Nothing untoward happened. My mother was polite, warmish, attentive; my husband-to-be was deferential, attuned, subdued. I did catch her sneaking a look at his hands—she’d want to get a peek at his heart line, to see if he was likely to go off the rails and start fornicating with secretaries—but she was discreet about it. Aside from that, she acted the part of a nice middle-class mother, of an outmoded variety. My husband-to-be was a little disappointed; he’d been led to expect something less orthodox.
There are quite a few snorty-laughy lines in this story, and it probably would make sense to share those. But I’ve chosen this ordinary passage because of this question of expectations. (And because I wonder if anyone else remembers if it wasn’t the King Edward Hotel where they all go out for drinks in The Edible Woman.)
Not only are expectations between mother and fiancée thwarted but, also, early on, the girl has one impression of her gym teacher, and her mother has quite another opinion about that woman, which subverts the girl’s understanding. And, the girl believes that she knows where her father is but, soon, some holes in her mother’s story (that she transformed him into the garden gnome beside the front steps) arise. All through, people are more than what they seemed.
But expectations of readers who have followed Atwood’s career (and those who have made assumptions based on international acclaim) are also shaken when we compare these new Atwood stories to earlier work. “My Evil Mother” echoes earlier stories like “Bluebeard’s Egg” which is also steeped in fairy tales, women’s lives, marriages, and expectations, but “Bluebeard’s Egg” feels heavier. It echoes earlier novels like The Robber Bride which also considers how women connect with and disappoint one another, broken marriages and trust contracts, and the myths we spin about ourselves and other people, but those novels are long and complex.
An Alias-Grace Atwood reader might find these stories feel thin, and I do find myself thinking that from time to time while reading.
But when I stop to think, I also find myself thinking about how powerful humour is. I think about writers like Thomas King and Paul Beatty and GauZ’, who make us laugh but also comment on colonization and misogyny, legacies of inequity we have inherited (and, sometimes, perpetuate, deliberately or accidentally).
I wonder: does it have to feel weighty to be substantial.
In theory, I say no. But, in reality, part of me still peers closely to find an intricate structure or a reverberating metaphor. Why can’t a well-told story simply fall open, the way a pit falls away from a fully ripened peach. There are other squares in my Bingo where this story would fit-several-but how can I not choose the Mother corner, when it’s right there in the title.
It doesn’t have to be complicated to work.
Margaret Atwood
“The fabric of democracy is always fragile everywhere because it depends on the will of citizens to protect it, and when they become scared, when it becomes dangerous for them to defend it, it can go very quickly.”
I love MA’s humour. And the passage you chose made me laugh at the idea that someone’s hands can be an indicator that they’re going to fornicate with their secretary. Lol
If this story is told from the perspective of the daughter, it makes sense to me that the title is “My Evil Mother.” My kids are guilty of tossing that word around for effect.
You’re making me so badly want to get out this book RIGHT NOW.
As Bill’s comment hints, I have left out the funnest part of this story: I think you would find it very satisfying.
That seems appropriate at that age! I think Oldest and Youngest would like the story too…but maybe for different reasons? /cackling
Based on your review, I’d probably like this collection of her writing the best. I find some of her older stuff almost too weighty. Also update: sadly, I wasn’t able to go to the Atwood event earlier this week. I’m struggling with a migraine so I ended up staying home instead. Ugh, I was so disappointed. Her talk was on democracy apparently, and everyone loved it!
Awww, I hope your migraine recedes soon. Mine used to last about three days and I was convinced each time that I was dying. hah But I rarely get them now, only the occasional bad headache (i.e. no aura) whem something like the forest fires triggers one, and I hope you can improve your situation too. /airhug (Assuming that real hugs hurt.)
Sadly, I’m not Margaret Atwood’s reader. I’ve tried in the past, e.g. when Alias Grace was picked by a member of my book group, but my heart wasn’t in it despite the novel’s obvious merits. I’m glad you’re getting a lot out of her though as I know I’m in the minority!
You are happily immersed in a massive TBR at this point in your life (just the McNally Editions alone heheh), but for anyone who’s just beginning to test out their reading style and preferences, still learning what works for them and doesn’t, not connecting with just one of her books doesn’t necessarily mean that another wouldn’t reward; particularly if the chunky mid-career novels don’t satisfy, the early shorter (more overtly feminist?) works might be a match (I think that’s been Bill’s experience), or the grief-soaked poems in Dearly, or the political essays. Some writers are incredibly consistent, but it seems like she’s tried everything by now!
Haha, love your final sentence. And I strongly believe that it doesn’t have to feel weighty to be substantial. But, when it’s not weighty we often need to concentrate because we can fall into the trap of just presuming that it’s light or it’s funny so it is to be enjoying and then move on.
And, I hate the word “evil” and how it is thrown around with such abandon. But in Atwood’s hand here, it sounds like there’s a wonderful ironic, and more than that satiric, sense behind it? Because she doens’t use words with abandon.
It was like I just talking RIGHT TO YOU, wasn’t it? heheh
Oh, yes, she is using it for a pointed purpose. And I know that the particular device she’s playing with is one that you would find both intriguing and entertaining. Bill’s comment reveals that I’ve left out what many would say is the central idea of the story, and that’s true: And I do feel a little guilty, a little pang over that decision, but it was such fun to see it fall into place. hee hee
Bill tells me there as an Orwell related story in this collection, so I hope to at least get to it by the end of the month. I am working quite a few extra shifts this month which is eating into reading/blogging time, although we’re also due for a week of rain (according to the bureau) so that might be what I need to keep me out of my lovely spring garden and inside reading!
Yes, I just read it myself (I’ll reread and post about it on Thursday)! Over here, I am very nearly past the point where I can do much that needs doing outdoors (as it’s already been below zero so many nights that I can’t prune or trim really) until it snows.
I’m planning on reading this collection very soon and you have definitely whetted my appetite! Even if they feel a bit thin, i’m sure I’ll still enjoy them.
I’m still not entirely sure whether they ARE thin or light, or whether they are streamlined or polished. Not sure whether it’s my own expectations (based on past readings and thoughts about them) that are skewing my reading of them.
My Evil Mother was one of my favorite stories in this collection when I read it last year. I think Atwood is very good at using humor to make a point. Humor is, or can be, subversive.
It’s very colourful isn’t it. I was a little disappointed to see that it was an Amaz*n Original, but not everyone shares UKLG’s principles in that regard.
Interesting response. And I think I agree – even if this is not as substantial as something like Alias Grace, it can still have much to say.
I can’t remember if you have this collection, K? Maybe I’m thinking of Ali having purchased it. I know you’ve read Dancing Girls; I’ll be curious to hear your opinion of the OBitW whenever you get to reading these stories.
As it happens, I read this story a couple of weeks ago, then I had to read it again to match it up with your review.
The mother, as wife reminds me of Elizabeth in Life before Man, in her amused contempt for her ineffectual husband.
I like how you have said nothing at all about the point of the story, as in “Don’t you make me point!”.
LOL And you haven’t given anything away with that either. Ohhhhh, I really thought that whole aspect of the story was fun. Were you told not to point? I was! And I loved the tiny details that showed the passage of time (like how the concoctions had real substance in her childhood memories but, when she’s older, they mold over in the fridge).
Amused contempt feels accurate. I think she depicts the pattern of deceit-surrounding-divorce very skilfully; she allows the narrator to recognise the damage that was done by the mother’s lies/ommissions and the father’s silence/absence, but she doesn’t obsess about it and, ultimately, it’s the gym teacher toward whom the mother directs all the heat.
Humour can be so effective if used well. Percival Everett does this brilliantly, ridiculing white supremicists with a smart satirical wit making his point effectively and memorably.
OH, yes, excellent example: thank you!