After the phenomenal global success, not to mention timeliness, of the TV adaptation of The Handmaid’s Tale in 2017, Margaret Atwood has been regarded as “a combination of figurehead, prophet and saint”, the author writes in her new memoir Book of Lives. Over 600 pages this “memoir of sorts” ranges from her childhood growing up in the Canadian backwoods to her grief at the death of her partner of 48 years, the writer Graeme Gibson, in 2019, with many friendships, the occasional spat and more than 50 books (including Cat’s Eye, Alias Grace and the Booker prizewinning The Blind Assassin and The Testaments) in between.
The author, who turned 86 last week, always likes to take the long view, often from a couple of centuries’ distance. As Rebecca Solnit notes below, she now has a long view of our times. Age and the freedom of being a writer (as she says, she can’t get sacked) make her fearless in speaking out.
She always dismisses the notion of prophetic powers – “I’d have cornered the stock market,” she has said (although she did predict the financial crash in her 2008 book Payback). She certainly doesn’t want to be idolised as a saint – that rarely ends well, and besides, she holds grudges. She even chafes against her mantle as feminist icon, “expected to do the Right Thing for women in all circumstances, with many different Right Things projected on to me from readers and viewers”, as she writes in Book of Lives.
Atwood is as hard to pin down as the insects she and her brother, Harold, played with as children, encouraged by her father’s job as an entomologist. A natural scientist (many of her family were scientifically inclined) and sceptic, she is also a dabbler in palm-reading and the occult. There is nothing she can’t tell you about nature, from the sex lives of snails to rare birds (see questions from Jonathan Franzen and Anne Enright); or history – the Salem witch trials and the French Revolution are particular areas of expertise.
She can be silly and stern, sometimes within the same sentence, but there is a deep moral seriousness beneath all her work. She supports many good causes, young writers and environmental projects. She still goes to the Arctic Circle each year, and to Pelee Island for the bird migration each spring. Somehow, she has found time to write some of the finest books of the past 50 years: poetry, dystopia, historical novels, speculative fiction, a graphic novel, countless essays and now, finally, a memoir.
The author would strongly disapprove of this inventory of her achievements – she is Canadian, after all. But it is by way of saying, it is no wonder that some of our other great thinkers and writers have burning questions – how to cure a hangover? Or topple the patriarchy – to put to her.
One final piece of advice from the last epigraph to Book of Lives: “Don’t piss her off, or you will live for ever.”
George Saunders
Congratulations on Book of Lives. Perhaps you remember that long-ago day when you saved me from dying by hangover in a car on the way to Salisbury, by way of some sort of homeopathic remedies? I’ve heard you talk masterfully about contemporary biology and philosophy and many other topics, and so admire the way this wisdom permeates your fiction. So, my serious question is: what does your other-than-fiction reading life look like? How have you managed to come to know so much? Also (a follow-up): which pills were those that day?
Last Q first: I remember that day well – our drive from Hay-on-Wye – and the very funny but wistful piece you wrote about it for the New Yorker. I’m so sorry you got ambushed by British beer. You were an alarming shade of green. What I did: 1. We put you in the front seat. 2. And advised you to look at the horizon. 3. And stay hydrated.
I fed you some pills from the little pharmacy I carry around. Mums do that, and the habit has stuck. I think they included ginger Gravol, used for seasickness; some form of antacid, such as Tums; some kind of hard candy to provide a bit of electrolyte; anything else I thought might help. Not painkillers though; I thought they might make you sicker.
My other-than-fiction reading list looks like piles on the floor and various sections of shelving, loosely organised: quite a lot of folklore, mythology, folk ballads, witches, etc, from many countries – a childhood interest that has persisted – I just added Greenland. A big stash of human rights/second-wave feminism, with some updating; an even bigger section on war, the largest two parts being the second world war (I inherited the collection of my father-in-law the Canadian general, see the story A Dusty Lunch) and the French Revolution and Napoleonic wars, a current obsession, as I feel we live in a revolutionary era – and no, revolutions are not always of the “left”. Nature stuff – father and brother both biologists, Graeme a bird zealot, which makes me a pedantic and probably annoying person to go for outdoor walks with. (But Merlin and iNaturalist apps have created whole generations of citizen scientists.) Big collections of Canadian writing – fiction, history, poetry – mostly from the 60s, 70s, 80s, then it got too big. Novels from other countries. History of clothing. And on …
How do I know so much? It accumulates as time passes, like fluff under the sofa. I’ve always been curious.
George Monbiot
Given that the great majority of us are not psychopaths, why do we keep electing them to high office, and how do we break the habit?
Quite often, in elections, people are not given the choice of something they actually want. So they vote, not for the best, but for the one they think will be the least worst. Not surprisingly, they sometimes get it wrong. And in an age of disinformation (see 18th-century political pamphleteering, just for a fun comparison) the possibility of deciding on the basis of accurate information may be pretty low.
Jonathan Franzen
You’ve been a strong proponent of new technologies for writers, most notably social media. Has the increasingly malignant power of big tech given you any second thoughts?
You betcha. Utopian projects – early internet, oh goodie, we can now all share our beautiful and helpful thoughts – frequently go bad, because, surprise, our shared thoughts are not always beautiful and helpful. If we could turn back time … how about to the preagricultural age? Not without its problems either, I’m afraid.
What bird haven’t you seen and would still dearly love to see?
The dodo (joke). The great auk (also joke). I’ve never seen an ostrich in the wild, though I have seen a cassowary. How about a European bee-eater? Gorgeous, they say.
Rebecca Solnit
One of the pleasures/horrors of a long life is being a witness to change. What are the greatest changes you’ve witnessed, the ones that most preoccupy you, or the ones you think we should pay most attention to?
Right now I have a feeling of: “This is where I came in.” The polarisation of the 1930s, then the second world war. I was born in 1939, so there have been a lot of changes since then! To name a few:
1. In 1939 there was hardly any plastic. The first big wave of it broke in the early 50s. Everyone thought it was great.
2. The switch from coal to oil in the 50s.
3. The advent of television, also in the 50s. Before that it was radio, with families gathered around the set, ears flapping.
4. The advent of antibiotics – magic! – and more vaccines, including polio. My generation of children had a lot of “childhood diseases”, including diphtheria, which killed young children. Four of my cousins died of it.
5. My generation was all about work ethic. You were just expected to work hard. We thought the 60s hippies were, well, lazy.
6. Civil rights in the 60s, however. We approved of that.
7. The advent of the pill for public consumption, in the 60s, around the same time as pantyhose, followed by the miniskirt and shortly after that by second-wave feminism. A huge change, hardly possible before the pill.
8. With Reagan (1980), the beginning of the end of the New Deal and the rise of the “religious right” as a political force, thus The Handmaid’s Tale, which many then thought would be impossible in the liberal, free‑world leader, the United States.
9. The collapse of the USSR and its bloc, 1989-90. Far‑reaching consequences not apparent at the time. Move one chess piece and all are affected.
10. Did I say media changes – in music, from vinyl LPs to tape cassettes and then CDs, and then the advent of the internet and smartphones and social media?
And now the rise of authoritarians and totalitarians … as I say, this is where I came in. Pay attention to the patterns of power grabs, infighting, the disintegration of the rule of law. See Macbeth. And I, Claudius. And the wealth and power imbalances just before the French Revolution. And yes, read Nineteen Eighty-Four. Again.
Anne Enright
Best ever bird sighting, Margaret?
Context matters … let’s say white Iceland gull, hanging around on an ice pan waiting to grab some scraps while a polar bear finishes eating a seal it has surged out of the water and squashed. Sorry. Maybe I should have said “cute hummingbird”. But they can be pretty aggressive.
If you had been born on the other side of the St Lawrence River, which is to say, in the US, who would you be now?
I’d own Connecticut. (Joke. One ancestor was governor there.) Well, I’d probably be one of the Atwoods presently crawling all over Cape Cod, which is where the Canadian branch came from … Hi, Cape Cod distant cousins. But if you mean now, this very minute, I’d be worrying a lot about my country. Is it a democratic world leader on a steep slide into autocracy? Let’s hope not.
Deborah Levy
Simone de Beauvoir wrote: “If you live long enough, you’ll see that every victory turns into a defeat.” Do you think we will ever topple patriarchy?
Depends what you mean by topple (all men gone? Japanese female prime minister?) and what you mean by patriarchy (men rule everything? Men are taller, on average?). For me, the Q of the day is rather: can we even hold the line – the line on one side of which women don’t have jobs, money or political rights; and on the other side of which they do?
Amitav Ghosh
Your work has prefigured some of the most dystopic aspects of the contemporary world. Do you think this is just the beginning of a total collapse or is a more hopeful turn possible?
More hopeful turns are always possible. Except at the moment when you’ve been pushed out a window. But there is no “inevitable course of history”. And yes, individuals have made a difference. And can still do so. (Though at what cost?)
Ali Smith
Can you remember any of the original poems you wrote for your “first opus”, Rhyming Cats, which you wrote when you were very small? Just curious.
Yes, but that’s because I’ve seen them recently, in the course of writing Book of Lives.
And, curiouser and curiouser: one of the core preoccupations of your wise, humane and prophetic oeuvre, right from the start, has been survival. What tools can we hone right now to help us surface the deluge – from literal climate damage to that of an increasingly savage politics?
Inventiveness, the ability to improvise using any materials at hand, and a knowledge of basic needs and possible hazards are always useful. Always have some fresh water in the house. A candle. Some matches or a barbecue lighter. A knife (hunting). When the lights go off, we’re back in time. Not in the 19th century; in the stone age.
Savage politics? Wow. I don’t know. Times of chaos produce savage politics. Always have.
Diane Abbott
Will American democracy last?
Got me there. I don’t know. But America is a large and very diverse country. It will be hard to make all the Americans line up and salute without killing a lot of people. And the armed forces – as we have just been reminded – take an oath to the constitution, not to an individual. It’s a bit like fairies in Peter Pan. Democracy will die if you don’t believe in it. (But so will money.)
Ottessa Moshfegh
What has stayed constant in your craft, and what, if anything, have you deliberately unlearned?
I don’t have to use a manual typewriter any more, so I’ve more or less forgotten carbon paper. Other than that: write, revise, crumple, throw out, write, revise … then stop to watch murders on TV.
What do you eat when you’re writing a novel?
I sometimes forget … snacks (nuts and apples are big) … except when my family is cooking and then blowing whistles to make me come for dinner.
And how do you feel about your body?
It’s old. Stuff wears out. But compared with the bodies of some of my contemporaries, and despite the pacemaker, it’s not doing too badly. I still have kneecaps, I can still touch my toes and walk 10,000 steps a day. Just not as fast as formerly. (“Still” is a much-used word among us.)
Young doctor: “Compared with most people in your demographic, your hearing is quite good.”
Me: “That’s because most people in my demographic are dead. They aren’t hearing anything.”
Him: (puzzled shock)
Ai Weiwei
How should we interpret the hypocrisy surrounding the universal ideals of freedom, equality and justice in light of today’s geopolitical realities, wars and acts of genocide?
The key word is “ideals”. Ideals are always aspirational. They have never been fully implemented, as we know. I suppose the question to be asked is: do “we” – quite a large category – still think these ideals are a desirable or possible goal? Or are they just verbiage that gets trotted out on solemn occasions?
As for hypocrisy, it has been a constant factor in human societies. But there are high points and low ones. Now that we are seeing the greatest democracy of modern times turning away from these ideals, the ideals are looking better as aspirations than they have for a while. What will we do and who will we be without them?
Are we about to find out?
• Book of Lives by Margaret Atwood is published by Chatto & Windus. To support the Guardian order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
