The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood is one of the best books I’ve read. Ever. The prose is exquisite; the language is masterful and eloquent, which is not really a surprise because Margaret Atwood is a poet. The plot, not so much if you’re looking for a thrilling page-turner, but major kudos to originality: It has a story within a story within a story. As the narrator for almost half of the book, Iris Chase-Griffen, is laying down the events of her life and that of her troubled sister, Laura, we simultaneously read the novel that made Laura famous, The Blind Assassin, which tells the tale of mysterious lovers in hiding. Within Laura’s novel, the male half of the clandestine couple is spinning a science fiction yarn to keep his love interested. These seemingly disparate elements will come together by the end of the book.
Fact is, I can’t stop quoting Iris in my other blog. With her disconnected view of the world, she has this certain coldness and distance that ironically made her writing reek with pain and quite a bit of sarcasm, undoubtedly because of a generally unfortunate fate of knowing the kind of unhappiness that can only be understood by those who lived it. I named Iris the writer because it is her story, the one she’s hoping to leave her grandchild behind, that got to me the most. With her failing health (and nary a Blue Advantage plan) at the end of a largely unfulfilled life, she persisted to write down her story, in a final act of trying to reconnect, if not share her legacy, to the only remaining person in the world she has a claim to.
I recommend this book to everyone who loves literary fiction. For lovers of language and stories of the heart, this book is a definite treat.
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