Whilst Margaret Atwood’s Booker Prize winning The Blind Assassin is (inevitably) beautifully written, it is, personally, one of her least interesting novels.
Set in Canada in the present day, octogenarian Iris Chase narrates a story that spans the twentieth century. Down-at-heel in a small condo in a tourist town in Southern Ontario, Iris slowly reveals events that, from a once privileged position of family wealth and power, led to her downfall.
Married off to save the family business at a young age, the suicide of her sister Laura in 1945, an arrogant older husband with political ambitions supported by his manipulative and interfering sister, Winifred. In spite of being surrounded all her young life by wealth, Iris is not in a happy place, very much the gender victim of the conservative times.
Ostensibly, The Blind Assassin is the story of the two sisters and their relationships with two men at either end of the political spectrum. A trophy wife to the patriarchal bully with fascist leanings that is Richard Griffen, Iris is trapped in a loveless marriage. Alex Thomas is a communist agitator wanted in connection to the fire at the Chase button factory and the death of a night watchman. Laura is infatuated with the political activist – but it is Iris who has a long-standing love affair with him.
Within their story is the novel within the novel – Thomas entertains his lover with stories of Planet Zycron, written for the pulp magazines from which he survives financially (writing under an assumed name).
Iris ups and leaves Griffen with newborn baby in tow having discovered he had been sexually abusing a 16 year-old Laura. A less privileged life is on the cards, but at least she will be with the man she loves. Bad timing – having returned from the Spanish Civil War, Alex Thomas volunteers for the war in Europe. He does not return and never knows his daughter, Aimee.
Forty years later, Iris looks back on this early time in her life (time between now and then is written off in a paragraph or two). It’s a resigned memory – a little bitter (mainly towards a still living Winifred), a little angry (her powerlessness within her own home as a newly-wed), a little sad (the death of Aimee from substance and alcohol abuse). But there’s undoubtedly a level of relief, having escaped the suffocating life destined by her marriage to a political climber.
There are, in my mind, a number of issues with The Blind Assassin but the main problem is its length – a judicious editor should have cut from 630+ pages to 350 or so. A tight, well-told family melodrama would have resulted. Instead, we have a rambling family melodrama populated with unlikeable characters and a (bad) sci-fi/fantasy theme running through it.
Final result was that, in essence, The Blind Assassin bored me. There were several occasions when I came close to giving up. But I persevered…
Margaret Atwood collected her only Booker Prize for The Blind Assassin in 2000. Having received mixed reviews on publication, it was not the favourite to win – Trezza Azzopardi (The Hiding Place) and Michael Collins (The Keepers of Truth) were joint favourites to win.