When the profound and prolific Margaret Atwood speaks, I listen. Beyond the fact that her superlative fiction has entertained me for years, Atwood writes with an incisive wit and sophistication that is bred of experience. Generational, perhaps, but such sage wisdom and pithy comments on the state of the world and personal imagination are welcome in any context. In a series of deceptively short pieces, Atwood discourses on diverse topics, herself a central figure, with intimate knowledge of this territory: "Encouraging the Young"; "Orphan Stories"; "It's Not Easy Being Half-Divine"; "Chicken Little Goes Too Far", all invitations to an exploration of self and the modern world, the conventions that define our civilization and the fables we embrace.
Past, future, fable, myth- all are pliable in this author's hands, replete with rampant imagery, nothing wasted, each with a twist of insight to pique our complacent intellects, an undercurrent of hope that all is not lost. The title piece, "The Tent", is an allegory of us and them, one man's damnation another man's salvation: "you can't be exact about the truth and you don't want to go out there, out into the wilderness to see for yourself". Chicken Little wears more modern garb as he goes about trumpeting his anxiety that the sky is falling. Indeed it is, but who has time to address his concerns, everyone caught in the busy work of special interests. Besides, "whining is so unattractive". To be taken seriously, he is forced to start his own web site, TSIF- The Sky Is Falling. The world goes backwards in "The Animals Reject Their Names", de-evolving, species to cell, vague memories of God dissolving by the moment: "because God has bitten his own tongue/ and the first bright word of creation/ hovers in the formless void/ unspoken."
From the quirky retelling of fable to trenchant observations of a conflicted culture, each entry prods and stimulates: a paean to the mothers we have loved and reviled ("Bring Back Mom: An Invocation"), the idealized mother seen as icon with feet of clay, once expendable, but now a necessary component of out lives: "trying with all her might/ not to sink below the line/ between chin up and despair"; she is, incredibly, indispensable, so that "the holes in the world will be mended". In "Orphan Stories", Atwood displays the subtle wit that infuses her work: "Orphans have bad experiences...because they're so tempting... because they're so damaged... because they're so easily broken... because no one will believe what they say". Not to worry, no insult implied: "It is you, not we, that have always been the children of the gods." A wonderful collection, a worthy gift for self or cherished others. Luan Gaines/ 2006.
