The Blind Assassin
Ratings140
Average rating4
Very good book. It took a while to get into, but very satisfying in the end.
A family saga as narrated by a woman in her 80s, a perfectly ordinary woman with no talent or ambitions. It is like a road trip, this book; and this sassy grandma with an overactive imagination is driving us around, really slowly, taking all the sinuous side roads and detours, stopping every now and then to describe with exceptional vividness what we would have passed by unnoticed. In other words, it is long. I had to slog through most of it, but I don't regret it in the least.
The first line of the book fixes the pivot around which the rest of the tale is spun.
Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge.
“Mother is with God,” Laura said. True, this was the official version, the import of all the prayers that had been offered up; but Laura had a way of believing such things, not in the double way everyone else believed them, but with a tranquil single-mindedness that made me want to shake her
“Laura, what are you doing?” I said, “That's the Bible.”
“I'm cutting out the parts I don't like.”
Iris
I kicked off my shoes, threw myself down on the endless cream-colored bed. It had a canopy, with muslin draped around as if on safari. This, then, was where I was to grin and bear it - the bed I hasn't quite made, but now must lie in. And this was the ceiling I would be staring up at from now on, through the muslin fog, while earthly matters went on below my throat
The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read...Otherwise you begin excusing yourself
"I look back over what I've written and I know it's wrong, not because of what I have set down, but because of what I have omitted"
I've started and stopped this book a number of times before finally following through. I don't know whether it is particularly complex, or if it is just hard for me to follow the sci-fi subplot, or if I am just dumb. But now that I've finished it I really really liked it, and Atwood is a master of prose, etc.
“Was this a betrayal, or was it an act of courage? Perhaps both. Neither one involves forethought: such things take place in an instant, in an eyeblink. This can only be because they have been rehearsed by us already, over and over, in silence and darkness; in such silence, such darkness, that we are ignorant of them ourselves. Blind but sure-footed, we step forward as if into a remembered dance.”
I think Atwood might be one of the smartest writers out there. Each of her books that I have read have been so unique, with well-defined characters. This one is a bit of a mystery, which I liked, and the story was as elegantly told as her others. The “twist” wasn't as exciting as I expected, so the end fell a little flat for me but still a very good read.
I'm disappointed I decided to pick this up on audible. I should have known that with Atwood's work it would need to be read.
With that being said it was a perfectly enjoyable performance on the audio, it's just that it was very muddied with the amount going on. Reading would have been better to follow along. At one point I actually had to google the story because with the audio I was having trouble grasping that it was a story within a story, that had a story within that story.... (crazy).
I would certainly buy this book and read it instead of listening one day, there were plenty of things I really loved in it.
So 3.5 stars with audio, if you're interested in this book, PLEASE READ IT.
Elderly Canadian narrator who describes her (overall depressing) life growing up in the 20th century as a woman in upper class society. The ending was beautiful but it really dragged on in the middle.
This book is about two sisters from a family that once held high esteem in the village they grew up in. A family that once had money. The book moves through the two World Wars of the previous century as the sisters grow up. The book is written as if the elder of two is writing down her memoirs as an 80-year old lady. The sadness keeps building as the story progresses. Sadness piled upon sadness.
I love reading Atwood, and this is no exception, it is a very funny (the laugh-out-loud kind of funny), and interesting read with a large and colourful vocabulary. At the bottom of this review I'll share all of the words that stood out to me, because they were being used in different way that I am used to, or because I think I should use these more, or because hitherto I simply was not aware of their existence. The start of the book confused me somewhat though as I am not really one for reading the blurbs on the back. And in this case it would have at least helped me place the characters a bit. It didn't really matter though. I think the book was meant to be read with people leafing back to find clues they first missed. And that was something I really enjoyed. Being surprised and finding myself leafing back to find what became clear later on.
If you don't like descriptions of an upper-class lady about attire and decoration this book is probably not for you. If you do not mind, you learn a great deal about terms for all kinds of decoration material that was used at the beginning of the previous century. As well as learning about different kinds of dresses, veils and the such.
Here are some quotes I enjoyed; interspersed is a list of words that stood out to me.
52:
History as I recall, was never this winsome, and especially not
this clean, but the real thing would never sell: most people prefer a past
in which nothing smells.
55:
Why do we always assume at such moments that everyone in the
world is staring at us? Usually nobody is.
fractious
propitiatory
95:
At the very least we want a witness.We can't stand the idea of our
own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down.
102:
Now I think it was more complicated than that. It may have been a warning. It may also have been a burden. Even if love was underneath it all, there was a great deal piled on top, and what would you find when you dug down? Not a simple gift, pure gold and shining; instead, something ancient and possibly baneful, like an iron charm rusting among old bones. A talisman of sorts, this love, but a heavy one; a heavy thing for me to carry around with me, slung on its iron chain around my neck.
caul
145:
...many people take a
curatorial interest in their own scars.
hector
162:
We didn't learn very much Latin, but we learned a great deal about forgery.
inane
169 the button factor picnic:
More and more I feel like a letter – deposited here, collected there. But a letter addressed to no one
windfall
181 loaf givers:
It was the purpose in life of older people to thwart me. They were devoted to nothing else
...
I found it difficult to picture Helen of Troy in an apron, with her
sleeves rolled up to the elbow and her cheek dabbled with Hour, and
from what I knew about Circe and Medea, the only things they'd ever
cooked up were magic potions, for poisoning heirs apparent or chang-
ing men into pigs.As for the Queen of Sheba, I doubt she ever made so
much as a piece of toast. I wondered where Mr. Ruskin got his peculiar ideas, about ladies and cookery both.
compunction
tippler
souse
dowdy
doily
beg off
erstwhile
lascivious
voracious
bas-relief
stodgy
aplomb
fob off
pinko
breviary
tawdry
glassine
purloin
inert
sibilant
216: the attic
(Which does a man prefer? Bacon and eggs, or worship? Sometimes
one, sometimes the other, depending how hungry he is.)
porphyry
paunchy
228 Imperial Room:
It was God, looking down with his blank, ironic searchlight of an eye.
He was observing me, he was observing my predicament, he was
observing my failure to believe in him. There was no floor to my room: I was suspended in the air, about to plummet. My fall would be endless - endlessly down.
Such dismal feelings however do not often persist in the clear light
of morning, when you are young.
indenture
trousseau
truss
242: The Tango
They were new money,
without a doubt: so new it shrieked. Their clothes looked as if they'd
covered themselves in glue, then rolled around in hundred-dollar bills.
244: The tango
Sex may go nicely with many things, but vomit isn't one of them.
sequin
chiffon
epicene
suds
wallow
filigree
effluvium
283: steamer trunk
The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read.
nacreous
292: the fire pit
Well, they bill by the minute, these lawyers, just like the cheaper whores.
waylay
frump
portcullis
yokel
jaunty
cupola
marcel
303: postcards from Europe
The French hotel had a bidet, which Richard explained to me with
the trace of smirk after he caught me washing my feet in it. I thought,
they do understand something the others don't, the French. They
understand the anxiety of the body. At least they admit it exists.
304:
The French are connoisseurs of sadness, they know all the kinds. This is why they have bidets.
insouciance
dulcimer
taffeta
bouffant
ermine
chiffon
nostrum
biddy
stevedore
specious
impecunious
quoits
379: the ashtray
the rich have always been kleptomaniacs
poultice
emery
corundum
riffle
traipse
pinafore
patina
garish
sheen
q.t.
insouciant
gambol
layette
belfry
morass
tatty
maquillage
stolid
abstemious
lugubrious
verisimilitude
scurrilous
bilious
508: victory comes and goes
But unshed tears can turn you rancid. So can memory. So can biting your tongue. My bad nights were beginning. I couldn't sleep
harridan
518: the other hand
The picture is of happiness, the story not. Happiness is a garden walled with glass: there's no way in or out. In Paradise there are no stories, because there are no journeys. It's loss and regret in misery and yearning to try the story for it, long it's twisted road.
A modern classic. One of the best novels I've read in recent memory. Interesting characters, a bit of mystery, and Atwood's pristine prose are enough to carry a book with minimal plot.
Very atmospheric and moody, but a bit slow, and I was distracted a lot at work while audiobooking, so: grain of salt.
Might be part of an unintentional trilogy with House of the Spirits and another book that I knew I'd forget if I didn't write down...and did, cause I didn't.
Gosh, this took me much longer to read than I expected. It was challenging and rewarding though and one that I will come back to
I enjoyed the writing and the actual story of the Blind Assassin byt the rest was a little bit slow.
I expected the book to come as billed: “An intricately intertwined set of narratives hiding a shocking family mystery.” Instead it was
1. Snippets of an interesting science fiction story, told by unknown lovers, padded with
2. An excruciating story of two young, insipid, girls and their coming of age. The beginning of the lives of the girls was interesting to develop setting and character, and their adulthood (the end of the time described in this part) was predictable, but at least relevant. However, for the middle 300 pages, this becomes an interminably long day-by-day description of everything that they ate and wore. In addition, because these girls are so completely insipid we are treated to the details of how they hate absolutely everything and aspire to nothing, which is a little less than endearing. However, this is still not the most insufferable of the three parts, because the remainder of the book is
3. The nominal framing device. Less a story on its own and more to remind us how “clever” Atwood is in her prose style, this framing device seems to consist of determining how many ways the narrator can find to remind us that she's old and her heart bothers her. She goes to eat donuts. She reads the graffiti on bathroom stalls. She has chest pain, a lot. She tries to do her laundry. Rinse, lather, repeat.
Even without much in the way of plot (that which there is having been telegraphed 300 pages in advance), this book could have had literary merit if the characters had been at all interesting. But instead Laura and Iris are the most frustrating characters known to my literary world. For example, Iris complains bitterly about getting married away to a rich man, for which one may have sympathy, had she not spent the proceeding 100 pages explaining how she wanted to be rich and she expected to marry money to get there. Laura is flighty and “spiritual,” and disobedient, in such ways as to be maximally irritating but accomplish nothing. However, if Laura ever directly told anyone anything there wouldn't really be a book, so there is that.
The other most frustrating part of this book is the “unknown lovers” framing device for the Blind Assassin story. It is obvious to the reader who the unknown lovers are; however the characterization in this segment is so drastically different from that of the others (in that the female protagonist of this section, unlike every other female character in this book, has opinions, expresses them and acts on her will.) It is unclear whether this is done in a futile attempt to obscure the identity of the unknown lovers, or because the story is being told by an unreliable narrator (which makes little sense, given the final identity.)
Addendum, 12/11 - having finished Oryx & Crake it feels nothing short of criminal that Margaret Atwood spent time writing this book when she is clearly capable of so much more.
