Margaret Atwood's Truth

Reading Margaret Atwood is sheer pleasure. Her writing stands as a tall lighthouse that guides me as a new writer from shipwrecking on the rocks of verbal glut. I am not alone. Atwood not surprisingly engenders an erudite band of lovers: http://www.mscd.edu/~atwoodso/

Because I chose to write a novel about the way distant future-the beginning of the third millenium-I sat down one afternoon to read Atwoods' essays about writing The Handmaid's Tale and Oryx and Crake in her excellent collection of essays, Writing with Intent.

In "Writing Utopia" Atwood explains that her work is not science fiction but rather entirely conceivable in the present (we are either doing it now, did it in the past, or could start doing it tomorrow). Therein lies the power of it. The story is built around trends that we know are happening today or unfolding before our eyes. She calls this kind of novel "speculative fiction".

Whether writing about a utopia (where eveything works perfectly around someone's notion of what's "good") or a dystopia (where nothing works and thus readers discern what would be good or better), Atwood points out that only cultures based on monotheism produce either kind of novel. Polytheistic cultures, not being based on a unidirectional flow from bad to better to perfect, are circular by their nature so that all things move through cycles in a rhythm with one thing creating the forces that bring the other into existence.

From my perspective, to write a utopia or a dystopia is to make a judgement on society or declare that some values are definitely superior to others. Atwood chose to write a dystopia in both The Handmaid's Tale and Oryx and Crake. In the latter, the dismal, shattered world of Snowman is so terrible it shook me to my core. I wept long after finishing the book. Then I became angry! Why use all this talent to create a lasting vision of devastation? Rather than feeling empowered to make change, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of debilitating impotence.

As a long time environmental educator, I exist today on the hope that we can create in the minds of enough people the vision of how we can live sustainably so that a tipping point in consciousness sweeps across our nation. Atwood's dystopias innoculate us with a half-killed version of the real disease vector to hopefully make us stronger, more resistant to its threat. Why then do I resist it so? The answer may be that I prefer to eat organic food and drink clear water and let my body/mind develop its natural defenses. I prefer a positive vision I can reach toward, one that is realistic. Some would say I look for utopia.

No matter utopian or dystopian scenarios, nature will surely select out of the human community those who possess "robust" genes - or robust behaviors. If humanity goes on with business as usual, few of our progeny will make it into the 22nd century and if they do they it will not be nice.

A decade ago I stepped off the merry-go-round of status quo to study my culture through the eyes of North American first peoples, a Mojave medicine man and an Iroquois teacher. The first question they asked me was "Do you want the truth or a pretty picture?" I chose the truth. And likewise I think Atwood goes that way in her speculative fiction. But it is such a bitter pill.

As I plan my novel I consider whether to drink of the absinthian liquid of despair or imbibe the sweet ambrosia of a better world. Perhaps I will drink both, chasing one shot after another. Perhaps the best we can ever do is to actively strive toward utopia, realizing it IS a myth but that the path is something very, very good, and sustainable.

These are my reflections on a quiet but very warm morning on the Sonoran Desert. I am praying for rain.

~Susan