Welcome Button Factory Visitors
Have I already confessed that this is my first Atwood? And that somehow I hadn’t even heard of this book before a few weeks ago?
Well, you can imagine my delight this week, as I finally found out what the hell we had gotten ourselves into.
As so-called Alex said in the comments, even when I was confused, the language (Iris’ repeated self-slams — “I shambled into the kitchen” — family buttons concealing “the category of objects the world needs but scorns”) kept me happily zipping along. Add to that a sort of sinister-Kilgore-Trout-ish sci fi vision (“This carpet blinded ten children”) threaded throughout our tale, and a gentle reader in search of distraction couldn’t ask for much more. Except perhaps for a marble head-of-medusa over the fireplace.
By the end of this week, the pieces felt like they were starting to come together. My ad hoc family-tree-scibbles were beginning to make sense. And I was left ready to dive into Week Two.
Really enjoying the comments, as always — and it’s a particular treat to see such a great mix of long-time and returning Meanderers and first time Meander-peeps, blending into one mighty communal intelligence.
Speaking of communal intelligence: Last time around, we built an ad hoc White Noise Meander playlist. On the thread this past week, Computilo [whoops: corrected in the comments — Peaseblossom, not Computilo!] and So-Called Amanda offered a couple of excellent TBAM playlist suggestions. I’ve added a Jim Croce tune to the mix and started up a TBAM Spotify playlist you can find here. Feel free to call out songs to add in the comments as we wander along, or add ’em directly to the playlist, which is set up for public co-creation. Because: music!
This week: Let’s charge on through to page 121 in the blue edition, aka the end of “The Blind Assassin: The Messenger” wherein, gold watch intact, she’s “got to go.”
Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 3.5 – 4.5.
71 comments in week 1! 72 after I added a childish joke about a potentially lucrative t-shirt deal. I don’t count this as my contribution to week 2, but dang!
Just a thought, but… should the shwag for this here meander be a button?
you are officially out of control.
For those of us on Kindle, that’s 13% to 23%. (I’ve read ahead a bit — meandering difficulties b/c I’m so intrigued — and then go back to see what we’re discussing this week.)
I enjoyed everyone’s conjecturing on the storytelling guy last week….
Just to clarify, Cecil, our pal Peaseblossom, not I, started the Atwood playlist discussion on Week One of this Meander. However, now that you have a Spotify list started, John Prine’s “Hello in There” might work on any number of levels for a variety of characters.
Added! Props to Peaseblossom!
Piquet fabric (or Piqué) is a cotton fabric weaved so as to have raised ribs, or cords of typically rhomboid design and generally white in colour!
Buttons – so ordinary & utilitarian. But the Amish reject them a prideful affectation (in favor of hooks & eyelets), and we see the factory change materials because there are in fact classes and degrees of quality in the world of buttons. I feel like its a metaphor itching to become much more meaningful
Ooh, a fantastic addition!
I think I’m late starting this meander, but it’s my first one. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. TBA also starts out in a roundabout way that simultaneously delivers all the necessary headlines. It’s like the beginning of “Citizen Kane” with Kane’s oblique death murmur followed by the “News on the March” newsreel that delivers all the facts and none of the truth. I’m figuring the truth is somewhere in the parts of the family story Reenie doesn’t tell child Iris, and in the super weird “Blind Assassin” sci-fi. Or something like that. This is the second time I’m reading this book, and the first time I’m paying attention.
Still on the Kindle, still not used to it, but made my way thru week 2’s “homework” anyway. The actual book’s is on its way and should be here early next week, so from then on out this whole endeavor will for sure be more enjoyable 😉
Now, as to what I read:
1) I still enjoy the “real world” part of the story a lot more than the invented one (but thankfully there was little sci-fi this week).
2) Hadn’t realized that Iris apparently married into the family of another clothing tycoon.
3) The quote I liked the most:
“Her love for us was a given – solid and tangible like a cake. The only question was which of us was going to get the bigger slice.”
4) Fun fact at the end: seems like Margaret Atwood also read “The Loudest Duck”: “It’s the squeaky wheel that gets the grease, as Reenie used to say.”
Can we talk about how Atwood’s gift for descriptive text is second to none? I can so easily picture the rowhouse, scene of the latest tryst, thanks to the glorious details about “a fixture with three pink glass bottoms, two of the bulbs missing” and “the darkly varnished bureau scarred with cigarette burns and the marks from wet glasses.” I’m loving this book.
Just a few random bits and bobs for this week:
* The relationship between the narrator of the internal science fiction story and the woman to whom he’s telling it feels… unhealthy? At least by modern standards. Within the context of a piece of noir fiction, maybe less so.
* The Chase family has had a rough go in life, despite the wealth stemming from Benjamin’s button business. (Not to be confused with Benjamin Button’s business.) If you’re interested in early studies of shell shock on troops in WWI, I highly recommend the Regeneration trilogy by Pat Barker, a fictionalized account psychological treatment of shell-shocked soldiers at a hospital in Scotland.
* Having read a fair amount of Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett, I’m both impressed with Atwood’s ability to capture the cadences and disturbed by the knowledge that within the context of this book, these lines are from the pen of Laura Chase. With that in mind, to me the lines sometimes feel forced. Like a bad impression of a gangster.
This week, I’m thinking about Russian stacking dolls, about stories within stories within stories. Maybe quantum Russian stacking dolls would be a better description or Russian stacking dolls crafted by Escher – the smaller dolls somehow containing simultaneously the bigger ones. Families are like that. It seems that children are the byproduct, the enfolded iteration of their parents, but, then again, children internalize and retain their parents, hold and enact ideas of them like “wax dolls” within themselves. Likewise, history and literature, write and overwrite each other like graffiti in the stall of a donut shop’s bathroom.
In Iris’s narrative, she describes the stained-glass windows throwing shades of blue and green across her and Laura’s oatmeal, “magic food, either charmed or poisoned depending on my whim or Laura’s mood.” Later, within The Blind Assassin, the “round window of colored glass” stains the lovers’ faces. This detail felt like a clue, like the shared experience lived by both sisters and then refracted through two mediums – Iris’s first-person account and Laura’s “fiction.”
Some admixture of Iris’s description of their father “his good eye […] flat blue, like blue paper” and the fragile sadism of the sci-fi writer within TBA made me think of Plath who both creates and eviscerates a paternal figure in “Daddy”:
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You—— […]
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
Also seems like problematic male figures are not the only thing that Laura and Plath had common. Then again, maybe I’m no different than the townspeople who Iris talks about dissecting TBA for clues of Laura’s biography as if it can be extricated from fiction — as if biography, fiction, and history are different things at all.
There are several Elvis Costello songs that are so perfect for this book (“New Green Shirt” mentions buttons!), but my pick this week has to be “New Lace Sleeves” for its treatment of aristocratic indiscretions.
Loving this book!
Agreed that Atwood’s descriptive text is pretty phenomenal. One thing I’m noticing is her focus on fauna, something I barely pay attention to in real life, let alone have the ability to describe.
I still find Iris’s narration a bit hard to take, tbh. It’s incredibly incisive and sardonic, but–and maybe this is just because of real life this week–that made it her sections less “enjoyable” to me.
By contrast, I actually liked Laura’s section more this week, and was relieved when we finally got back to it. As mentioned in a comment above, less of the sci-fi, but the highly volatile dynamic between the man and woman I found to be quite intriguing–his cruelty towards her with his words, which she calls him on more than once, does not prevent her from staying and wanting to hear more of the story…
My favorite bit of descriptive text was actually about the cafe they meet at, and the men inside: “Hands like stumps: those hands could rescue you or beat you to a pulp and they would look the same while doing either thing.”
As many above mentioned, I am also a fan of the very descriptive sections that draw you in and make you feel like you see them right in front of you.
I’m really enjoying this book, the different story lines and also the way the narrative changes. This is my first book from Atwood too, but I doubt it will be my last…
teeheeheee
From the “Black Ribbons” Section: “Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we’re still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It’s all the same impulse? What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get? 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.”
Since I’m in the geriatric “high-risk” category for Covid-19, I’ve started thinking about all the things I should be prepared for should the virus attack. And what I am obsessing about these days are my diaries, my journals, my scribblings over the years. I don’t necessarily want to memorialize myself, but I want someone to see them. Some have been published; most have not. So in my spare time, I’m gathering my oeuvre, from juvenilia to the workings of a mature mind (ha). Some are in elegant journally-type bindings; others are simple 8×10 college ruled; most are electronic. Not sure who will read all this drivel–my children, my grandchildren, my spouse, my brothers, my closest friends? Thank you, M. Atwood, for making me realize that I do want a witness.
i agree about the wonderful descriptive passages. alyssa’s mention of the pink light fixture with the missing bulbs reminded me that usually that kind of detail is boring. but not here.
i’m loving the iris sections. i’m reading them as mostly her writing, not as her just musing about them, so they seem to me to be recounting her rage as she would like it to be rather than how it is. when she self-deprecatingly describes herself (in last week’s reading), that’s simply her train of thought.
enjoying it all.
I am liking Elder Iris. Wonder if Younger Iris will be same or did she evolve.
I enjoyed liked this week’s section, I got more sucked into the story than last week. As other people have said, the descriptions are gorgeous. I really liked Iris’s writing about her parents and her childhood. It’s cool how her voice is different there than when we’re hearing her thoughts more directly.
Loving this section. Also: she is obsessed with that fan!
Quite a stew! Provincial aristocrats, treacherous Zycronian Hittites, a few simple Canadians, buttons of course, and those somewhat poseur-y lovers (bantering while wrapped in sheets)… it seemed like the anchor this week was the death of their mother… I am curious whether that sense of burdensome love or fate at the end of The Soda (‘slung like its iron chain around my neck’) will somehow end up binding all these parts together. (Probably it won’t, I tend to be wrong about these things.)
Loving the book and Susannah’s comment above. 🙂
“But in households like ours there’s often more in silences than what is actually said—in the lips pressed together, the head turned away, the quick sideways glance. The shoulders drawn up as if carrying a heavy weight.” Wow!
That’s my Atwood gem of the week. There seem to be two types of households: one in which everything is buttoned up (pardon the pun), and one where everything is laid out on the table, where everyone in the family knows everything about everyone else, and there are no secrets. No matter which you have, you’re envious of (or at least curious about) the other.
Enjoyed the writing in this section, but saddened by the descriptions of one (Chase) veteran returning from war, and the loss of a mother during childbirth. Perpetually sorrowful book. Thus hard to ‘enjoy’ despite the great writing. Originally hoped/thought the sci fi story would be the welcome reprieve. No hopeful glimmers there.
Port Ticonderoga, site of Chase Industries. The word Ticonderoga comes from the Mohawk tekontaró:ken, meaning “it is at the junction of two waterways”. Significance therein? Or, is the book usage linked to Ticonderoga‘s role in graphite mining, for pencils, for writing. Or, could it be a sci fi connection, since Ticonderoga boasts a museum called the Star Trek Original Series Set Tour. It has been, and continues to be, visited by cast members of the show and of its spin-off and movies. I hope the latter two are book tie ins, especially Star Trek. That would be a nice glimmer.
Forgot to mention – I was referring to the real Ticonderoga, NY.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ticonderoga,_New_York
Given the pages I had to make up, this week was less meander and more mad dash. I am still just shy of crossing the finish line for this week, but was brought up short and back to reality by Mr. Griffin’s railing against the “deluded bleeding hearts” seeking relief for the masses of unemployed. As transporting as her descriptive language can be, Atwood keeps making us confront the ugly and disturbing – the man’s cruelty toward young woman in the “story within a story,” child slavery, and a child tasting her mother’s blood. It’s a challenging read.
How interesting to fall into the descriptions Iris provides. I maybe don’t have to tell, that I enjoy reading. This week I’ve been more captivated by the plot. The two actions. I try to think of the connections between Iris’s stories and the plot in the plot.
I have noticed that there must be some time between the meetings of the narrator and the woman – because each time a different season is described. And during these breaks the relationship between the two seems to become more unhealthy and fiction seems to become darker.
I so enjoy Iris’s sections, for all the reasons mentioned above. I felt a little thunk when I had to leave the story of her childhood and mother’s death and re-enter The Blind Assassin. But I do want to call out the tale within that tale for this passage describing the commissioned rape of the sacrificial girls: “The girls can hardly complain about this part of their ordeal, being without tongues or even writing materials and anyway they’re all dead the next day. Pennies from heaven, says the High Priestess to herself as she totes up the cash.”
And thanks to Amanda for a post as delicious as the book.
I find myself wondering how much of all this intersects with Atwood’s own life, and at the same time not actually wanting to know.
+1
a proletariat button IMO
I’ve never personally seen a button with more than four eyes, or the garden variety two-eye winkers. I’m interested to see if any of us will ever live to see an 6 or 8 or even 20-eyed button.
Can’t go wrong with a cake quote.
I really enjoyed reading about her childhood. It seemed more like a normal book. Very sad about her father and the waitress in the coffee shop, especially considering her mother’s death. Noting the author’s fame, fortune, and writing acclaim, sorry for two little grammar complaints. When the father is in the turret drinking . . . “He felt badly. . . .” A junior high mistake! Also, “I felt an electric chill run through me”. P 121 kindle. How trite and simply bad.
Excellent post. Love the approach of the matryoshka dolls. Very interesting. Consequently, therapists love these types of people, the ones with parents of any sort. It’s a nice business model that I’ve taken advantage of several times.
I had a chance meeting with Derrick Walcott once. He is prolific, and as I was speaking with him he mentioned that he only personally thought he’d written 10 good pages that were worth remembering. I’ve always carried that with me. Write a lot, witness a lot, memorialize but a little, and only the best stuff.
I’m starting to get a real sense of both who Iris and Laura are. I have a feeling Laura is innocent, and a free spirit. Iris is more practical and pessimistic. Let’s see how each’s childhood pans out. Agreed re: the SciFi sections. I find I’m glossing over and more interested in the couple’s interactions than the actual story.
Bahahaha, me too!
Kind of you to say, Susan!
I was surprised by how striking the word “gaslight” seemed to me in our current world.
Love all the insight and engagement of my fellow meanderers. I’m having a lazy day, like yesterday, and the day before. Makes it hard to rally for a sentence. Enjoying the book immensely. Serving suggestion: have the book read aloud accompanied by a nice puzzle, a cup of tea, and perhaps some warm banana bread. Delicious!
“Likewise, history and literature, write and overwrite each other like graffiti in the stall of a donut shop’s bathroom.” Nice Russian doll of a simile 🙂
Also: New Lace Sleeves added….!
C: I think we can’t like comments, but if we could, I would like this one — totally relate….
I have to admit that I had a little bit of trouble getting myself to get into this book-the blind assassin tale was not grabbing me-however, this week I’ve really enjoyed both story lines. I also really appreciate the way Atwood describes places and people in such a way that I can create a picture in my mind. I also thought it was interesting how Laura is likely meeting her lover at the same cafe her father took Iris, the overlap of stories is intriguing. I’m looking forward to reading more!
Comforting to know that I’m in the company of Margaret Atwood for adverbial mishaps. 🙂
-Cecil
I’m finally in the swing of this thing. Wasn’t liking the TBA parts til the cafe. Now I’m curious about that relationship. The backstory of the family in real life was so beautiful. The father and daughter in the soda shop really twanged me as a a Dad and a child. Moments that one remembers forever and the other might barely notice.
I really liked this week’s section. It’s so fun to be drawn deeper into the backstory of the characters, and to see how the two storylines develop in parallel.
“Why X?”
Men like that are always called X. Names are no use to them, names only pin them down.”
Still behind but meandering and believing I will catch up…
My favorite image of the week:
“Men sit in the booths, only men, … legs apart and feet in boots planted flat to the floorboards. Hands like stumps: those hands could rescue you or beat you to a pulp and they would look the same while doing either thing.”
As many have commented, her descriptive skills are amazing.
I’m lagging somewhat behind somewhat behind meanderwise but savoring every morsel. There was one sentence I read that felt like it could have been DeLillo.
Also why is everything here in italics?
italics fixed — I had an open tag in the post 🙂
I believe in you!
agreed — more than anything, the soda shop sticks with me as a clear-bell-moment.
Enjoying the meander but must confess I am behind because I am rereading The Stand concurrently. There may be some cross pollination, will see what germinates next week 🙂
I’m also enjoying the meander as well, and I have to say that I love the interaction between Iris and Laura as children especially the day after her mother’s funeral. Those interactions are the ones that are sticking with me the most. I wonder what that says about where my head is right now?
About two years ago, I picked out an old hardcover edition of The Stand from the Los Angeles Public Library. When I went to check the book out, the librarian, a glamorous woman in her late 80s with flapper waves and painted fingernails (unrelated, but vital details), told me that the copy of the book was too used and that she feared I would catch something from reading it! She made me promise to wash my hands after reading and never read it in bed!
She didn’t let on that she knew about the book’s subject matter, but maybe she was pulling one over on me!
yes yes thank you. word pictures. she paints them so vividly you fall in.
cecil, no criticism of your design intended but the motif that indicates a reply from the author of the blog post unerringly reminds me of funeral notices in newspapers
I agree, I’m not sure how she does it but I could totally picture the big house and kitchen so well!