Margaret Atwood is one of our greatest living writers, a Canadian treasure who has been considered a strong contender for the Nobel Prize in Literature for several years. Having produced excellence in the realms of the novel, the short story, and poetry, her reputation as a jack of all trades is well established. She won the Booker Prize for 2000's The Blind Assassin, and the Governor General's Award for 1985's The Handmaid's Tale, which remains her most famous creation to this day.
I read The Handmaid's Tale in 2005 and Cat's Eye (1989) in 2006. Both are among my all time favorites. I also read at least one short story and a couple of her poems during my school years. Last week, I picked up her 1981 novel Bodily Harm, mostly because it's the one I've heard the least about. Surfacing, The Robber Bride, and Alias Grace would have been more obvious choices, but this relatively slim novel (less than 300 pages) called out to me.
I read the book rather quickly, and I'm still not sure what I think of it. The prose is exemplary, as Atwood's prose always is. The protagonist, Rennie, is very interesting. The plot is solid, and the messages come through loud and clear. In some way, though, the book left me puzzled.
One of Atwood's strengths as an author is the way she tells a story, presenting us with multiple time frames through the eyes of one narrator. This strategy is employed to great effect in Cat's Eye, which takes place in present day Toronto as Elaine Risley prepares for an exhibition of her art. We go back in time to Elaine's childhood and teenage years, and the alternating scenes work fabulously to tell something closer to a whole story. In Bodily Harm, we also get fragmented narration, but somehow it's a little more confusing. Maybe not confusing, but certainly not straightforward. I can't help thinking that this reflects the narrator's state of mind, because Rennie feels fragmented herself, still trying to deal with the aftermath of a mastectomy.
Bodily Harm opens with Rennie returning from the market to find that her apartment has been invaded, and a coil of rope left ominously on her bed. This stressful scenario prompts her to take a tropical vacation. She is a journalist who writes lifestyle stories, and this time she decides to combine work and pleasure, taking off for the secluded Caribbean island of St. Antoine to write a travel guide article of sorts. Upon arriving at her destination, she meets a host of interesting and mysterious characters including Dr. Minnow, who is running for public office; Laura, who bites her nails ragged and grew up in an abusive household; and the alluring Paul, who charters boats and may be involved in some sort of smuggling ring. Rennie soon discovers that not all is peaceful on St. Antoine, and as she becomes increasingly involved in the goings-on of the island, Bodily Harm turns into a thriller of sorts.
As the action escalates on St. Antoine, Rennie has flashbacks to her life in Toronto. She was living with her boyfriend Jake, writing stories on everything from the return of faux fur to chain drain jewelry, when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Her surgery changed everything that she thought she knew about herself and her life. She fell in love with her doctor, Daniel. After her mastectomy, she was no longer able to feel sexually attractive. She and Jake split up, and her feelings for Daniel remained basically unresolved.
Atwood is extremely adept at linking Rennie's flashbacks to her current situation on St. Antoine, although the tone of the two threads is very different. The flashbacks are always interesting, but very inward looking; whereas Rennie's current situation is action-packed and dangerous. Of course, there was danger in her life before, especially when cancer reared its head. Atwood juxtaposes these two periods in Rennie's life seemingly to make a bigger point and to teach Rennie (and the reader) a "valuable life lesson," which becomes clear at the conclusion of the novel.
There is a lot more to the flashbacks than cancer and unrequited love. At times, Rennie goes further back, to her childhood in the unhappy town of Griswold, where her mother became "stuck" taking care of her senile grandmother. This gloomy upbringing left its mark on Rennie, who seems sophisticated and bright, but not entirely happy. She is exceedingly cynical. Also, Atwood makes it clear that Rennie's boyfriend Jake was abusive, though whether intentionally so is something the reader is left to wonder.
Bodily Harm was released in 1981, and there are cultural references to Ronald Regan and the punk scene. The feminist movement of the early 70s also hovers over the book, in particular, the way that Rennie was affected by it and how she relates to it today. Atwood is a feminist, and issues of woman's rights, female sexuality, and power play between the genders are of great importance to her. Never does she focus on these issues to the point of alienating readers; in fact, they usually heighten the impact of her stories. In Bodily Harm, there is no escaping the presence of gender issues, and at the novel's conclusion, Rennie comes to a very sobering realization.
If some of this sounds a little heavy, do not fear. Margaret Atwood is a commercially successful author as well as a critically acclaimed one, and this is because she knows how to hold your interest. Bodily Harm is never boring, even at Rennie's most introspective moments. The conclusion to the thriller plot line on St. Antoine, and the conclusions that Rennie makes about herself, are both satisfying. I was, however, unsatisfied by the fact that the opening invasion scene is never really touched upon again. I thought there would be some kind of resolution, but apparently it was included on a more metaphorical level (and, of course, to steer Rennie toward her tropical destination). Atwood is great with description, characterizations, and action in equal measure. Bodily Harm is not her most essential novel, nor is it her best, but it's an important part of her oeuvre, and an enjoyable, rewarding read.
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