Skip to main content

Review 37: The Heart Goes Last by Margaret Atwood

The Heart Goes Last
Margaret Atwood has got dystopian speculative fiction down. She probably gets up in the morning and chomps on a huge bowl of Dystopios, washed down with a hot cup of speculation.

In fact, she's got it so down that in The Heart Goes Last, one of her more recent offerings, the premise feels almost throwaway. It's not that it's not fully-considered, or incomplete - Atwood's world-building is as jam-hot as it ever was. It's more that it feels like she can slot it together with such ease that shocking elements don't even shock her anymore. There's real darkness in this story, but the tone across the book is much lighter than on some of her other works, and that can serve to jar a little.

The premise is that society has crumbled (natch) and an authoritarian new semi-socialist system has arisen to combat the cultural rot (mais oui). In this, people spend half their lives voluntarily in prison (A.K.A. Positron), and the other half out of it (in Consilience), to best capitalise on their economic output. The question is whether this such a controlled reality can truly serve happiness, and whether you can ever trust people not to exploit others.

It feels like Positron and Consilience represent, among other things, the animal urges and moral selves of the people in the book. They spend half their time following rules and keeping up appearances, but half the time they're absorbed by committing or thinking about infidelity and destructive acts - not unlike a professional footballer. This book as a whole really feels like an exploration of sexual honesty and control.

At times, it gets positively Shakespearean. There are mistaken identities, sexual treachery, modern-day love potions - even a band of rude mechanicals. This feels like ground that Atwood knows well, and she exploits it to her full advantage.

It's a funny, sad, light, dark read. What could be more fitting for a book about a system comprised of two polar opposite conditions?

--

This is my thirty-seventh book review of 100 to raise money for Refuge, the domestic abuse charity. If you liked this review, or just want to help out, please donate on the link below!

JustGiving - Sponsor me now!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Review 5: Gulp - Adventures on the Alimentary Canal by Mary Roach

When it comes to the works of Mary Roach, this ain’t my first Roach-eo - I’ve previously read and been entranced by Stiff , her foray into the world of corpses. But I still wasn’t expecting to like this book quite so much as I did. It’s one of the most enjoyable reads I’ve had for a long time. Gulp is a hotchpotch journey down the alimentary canal - the big vacuum cleaner bag that runs from our mouths to our exit wounds. Roach isn’t writing a medical textbook here though. She follows the stories of things that sound interesting, or gross, or (regularly) both, so you end up with quite a lot of stuff that’s tangentially-related rather than a tube-by-tube account of your inner passages. And that’s all for the betterment of the book. Here are a few facts and amusing asides I noted down during reading: Fabric softener works by slightly digesting the fibres of your clothes, using the same enzymes as in your guts. Painting restoration workers often spit on swabs to take layers...

Review 4: I Love Dick by Chris Kraus

I Love Dick is a book whose title feels like a deliberate trick to make you aware of other people looking at you when reading it on a train. I’m certain that it will have been a publishing decision to catch the eye. I look forward to seeing the same publisher’s follow-up hits, Eat All Puppies and I’m Not Racist, But… Publishing chicanery aside, ILD is, in its through-line, about a woman who develops a mostly one-sided infatuation with a man called Dick (get it? The title was a phallusy). But it’s an indirect plotline, with plenty of other ruminations about gender, art, politics and more thrown in too. “Plotline” may not be quite the correct term to use, given that the basis for the book is essentially autobiographical, and it reads like a memoir in the clothes of literature – or possibly the other way around. You’re certainly aware that these are real people being discussed, none more so than the author, Chris Kraus, who brings her whole self to bear on the page, with all the m...

Review 7: Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi

The first thing you see when you open Yaa Gyasi’s Homegoing is six pages of quotes from reviews saying how good it is. If you’re like me (and with any luck you’re not), you’ll think: talk about putting yourself under pressure . Happily, Gyasi more than rises to the implicit challenge set by her voluminous praise. The scope of her book - following two branches of an African family tree as they become separated by time and distance – is beautifully realised, with each chapter representing another generational step down. Homegoing is, in its clearest sense, about the reverberating impact of slavery on black people, both in the lands they were ripped from and the lands they were taken to. But the core theme that ties the book together is connection between those two strands of people. The title could be considered a reference to ‘returning’ to Africa, but I think it’s more powerful when considered as more abstract – the re-binding of the strands of people who have been separa...