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The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood
2008-03-24 12:50:00 Sometimes, when reading a big book, one gets the feeling that the author set out to achieve size, as if that in itself might suggest certain adjectives from a reader or reviewer – weighty, significant, deep, serious, complex, extensive, perhaps. Sometimes – rarely, in fact – one reads a big book and becomes lost in its size, lost in the sense that one ceases to notice the hundreds passing by, as the work creates its own time, defines its own experience, shares its own world. Even then, reaching the end can often be merely trite, just a running out of steam, the process thoroughly engaging, the product, however, something of a let down. Rarely, very rarely indeed, one reads a big book that actually needs its size, justifies itself, continues to surprise as well as enchant and then, finally, stuns. Margaret Atwood’s Blind Assassin is such a book, a giant in every sense, a masterpiece beyond question.Blind Assassin was awarded the Booker prize in 2000 and charts intersecting hi...
Margaret Atwood
2007-12-03 18:37:00 [From: Wikipedia] Atwood and her partner Graeme Gibson are members of the Green Party of Canada and strong supporters of GPC leader Elizabeth May, whom Atwood has referred to as fearless, honest, reliable and knowledgeable. Atwood has strong views on environmental issues,[2], such as suggesting that gas-powered leaf blowers and lawn mowers be banned, and has ...
Book Review: The Handmaid?s Tale by Margaret Atwood
2007-11-14 14:13:00 The Handmaid’s Tale is hands down, my favorite book of all time. I was first introduced to the book by a fellow feminist friend of mine who I had coffee with weekly. While on the subject of books, she told me that this book was a definite must-read for each and every woman???And after ...
Book Review: Good Bones and Simple Murders, by Margaret Atwood
2007-04-30 03:04:00 … are just orgasmic and he really isn’t intimidated by female sexuality at all and just to listen to him sing “Dirty Old Town” or “Rose Tattoo” is enough to give someone, even someone faithless and fickle like me, reason to believe. … Source
Margaret Atwood -About the convenience of learning foreign l
2006-11-28 03:33:02 About the convenience of learning foreign languages Margaret Atwood (1939 - ) Today I just felt like being merrybeing myself without further suspicionnor other rationalethan my body truth and letting my tongue saywhatever it had to say, if anything at all. Or at least try, without indulging inheroic thinking, that melodramatic tongue of minefrom a strange Castilia, or a Castilian tonguefrom the twenty-first century. Today I just felt like forgetting terms,their sound and foam,playing with other voices of these timespulsating underneathto forget it all, even my stockings,and, if possible, my head as well... Sobre la conveniencia de aprender idiomas Hoy me daba la gana ser felizser yo sin más sospecha o raciocinioque la verdad del cuerpo y lo quetuviese que decir la lengua,que lo dijera todo. Que lo intentara, al menos, sin hacerseilusiones de heroísmo, aquella lenguamía, melodramática,de una castilla extraña, o castellanadel siglo veintiuno. Hoy me daba la gana olvidar...
By: Poemas en ingles
Margaret Atwood -Time that flees, flees?-
2006-11-28 03:33:02 Time that flees, flees?Margaret Atwood (1939 - ) If time was not like a goblet overflowingor the escape of the instants counting downthe escape of all senseless and fugitive instantsflighting from your wristwatchin a fine movement of quietudeof your travelling body...If time was neitherlike a poppy in your lap with its head cut offnor a feline absenceor falling very rapidly from the last window of the last floorof a high towerdescribing circles increasingly widerIf she was made of time or she was timewithout being any of those things:nor a monstruous centipedenor a falling towards deathnor a descent nor a running awaynor a count-down flightnor an absence,how, then...? Poema interrogante sobre el tiempo que se va, se va... Si el tiempo no era como el desbordarse de una copao la fuga de los instantes cuenta atrásla fuga de todos los instantes insensatos como prófugoshuyendo de tu reloj pulseraen un movimiento sutil en la quietudde tu cuerpo viajero?Si tampoco era el tiempoco...
By: Poemas en ingles
Margaret Atwood -Grief?s Home-
2006-11-28 03:33:02 Grief?s Home Margaret Atwood (1939 - ) Perhaps grief is a homewith a haughty ceiling and a bolted doorwhere you feel so comfortable, sometimes,that you do not hear the steel´s edgeslashing the tapestries,suspended on the scented air: it is heliotrope blended with brimstone,seeking to settle in the corners;only the window standsbetween the limit and you.Ardous walk, in silence you listen to the ancient voices,firewood for this griefalways starved of you,as demanding as a newborn childwhom you already love.The door opens ajar and you close it:There is nothing to be afraid of. La casa del dolor Es posible que el dolor sea una casade techo altivo y puerta con cerrojo,donde estás tan a gusto, a veces,que no escuchas el filo del acerorasgando los tapices,suspenso por el aire perfumado:es heliotropo mezclado con azufre,busca posarse en los rincones;la ventana se alzaentre el límite y tú.Arduo paseo, en el silencio las escuchas,voces de otros tiempos,leña para el dolorsiempre h...
By: Poemas en ingles
Margaret Atwood -Metempsychosis-
2006-11-28 03:33:02 Metempsychosis Margaret Atwood (1939 - ) Somebody?s grandmother glides through the bracken,in widow?s black and gracefuland sharp as ever: see how her eyes glitter! Who were you when you were a snake? This one was a dancer who is nowa green streamer waved by its own breezeand here?s your blunt striped uncle, come backto bask under the wicker chairson the porch and watch over you. Unfurling itself from its cast skin,the snake proclaims resurrectionto all believers though some tire soon of being bornover and over; for them there?s the breaththat shivers in the yellow grass,a papery finger, half of a noose, a summonsto the dead river. Who?s that in the cold cellarwith the apples and the rats? Whose isthat voice of a husk rasping in the wind?Your lost child whispering Mother,the one more child you never had,your child who wants back in. Metempsicosis Tu abuela se desliza por los helechos,vestida de luto, grácily aguda como siempre: ¡mira cómo le brillan los ojos! ¿Quién ...
By: Poemas en ingles
Margaret Atwood -Orpheus (2)-
2006-11-28 03:33:02 Orpheus (2) Margaret Atwood (1939 - ) Whether he will go on singingor not, knowing what he knowsof the horror of this world:He was not wandering among meadowsall this time. He was down thereamong the mouthless ones, amongthose with no fingers, thosewhose names are forbidden,those washed up eaten intoamong the gray stonesof the shore where nobody goesthrough fear. Those with silence.He has been trying to singlove into existence againand he has failed.Yet he will continueto sing, in the stadiumcrowded with the already deadwho raise their eyeless facesto listen to him; while the red flowersgrow up and splatter openagainst the walls.They have cut off both his handsand soon they will tearhis head from his body in one burstof furious refusal.He foresees this. Yet he will go onsinging, and in praise.To sing is either praiseor defiance. Praise is defiance. Orfeo (2) Sabiendo lo que sabedel horror de este mundo,¿seguirá cantando?No se dedicó únicamentea pasear los prados: bajóco...
By: Poemas en ingles
Margaret Atwood -Orpheus (1)-
2006-11-28 03:33:02 Orpheus (1) Margaret Atwood (1939 - ) You walked in front of me,pulling me back outto the green light that had oncegrown fangs and killed me.I was obedient, butnumb, like an armgone to sleep; the returnto time was not my choice.By then I was used to silence.Though something stretched between uslike a whisper, like a rope:my former name,drawn tight.You had your old leashwith you, love you might call it,and your flesh voice.Before your eyes you held steadythe image of what you wantedme to become: living again.It was this hope of yours that kept me following.I was your hallucination, listeningand floral, and you were singing me:already new skin was forming on mewithin the luminous misty shroudof my other body; alreadythere was dirt on my hands and I was thirsty.I could see only the outlineof your head and shoulders,black against the cave mouth,and so could not see your faceat all, when you turnedand called to me because you hadalready lost me. The lastI saw of you was a dark ov...
By: Poemas en ingles
Margaret Atwood -Eurydice-
2006-11-28 03:33:02 Eurydice Margaret Atwood (1939 - ) He is here, come down to look for you.It is the song that calls you back,a song of joy and sufferingequally: a promise:that things will be different up therethan they were last time.You would rather have gone on feeling nothing,emptiness and silence; the stagnant peaceof the deepest sea, which is easierthan the noise and flesh of the surface.You are used to these blanched dim corridors,you are used to the kingwho passes you without speaking.The other one is differentand you almost remember him.He says he is singing to youbecause he loves you,not as you are now,so chilled and minimal: moving and stillboth, like a white curtain blowingin the draft from a half-opened windowbeside a chair on which nobody sits.He wants you to be what he calls real.He wants you to stop light.He wants to feel himself thickeninglike a treetrunk or a haunchand see blood on his eyelidswhen he closes them, and the sun beating.This love of his is not somethinghe can do...
By: Poemas en ingles
Margaret Atwood -The loneliness of the military historian-
2006-11-28 03:33:02 The loneliness of the military historian Margaret Atwood (1939 - ) Confess: it?s my professionthat alarms you.This is why few people ask me to dinner,though Lord knows I don?t go out of my way to be scary.I wear dresses of sensible cutand unalarming shades of beige,I smell of lavender and go to the hairdresser?s:no prophetess mane of mine,complete with snakes, will frighten the youngsters.If I roll my eyes and mutter,if I clutch at my heart and scream in horrorlike a third-rate actress chewing up a mad scene,I do it in private and nobody seesbut the bathroom mirror. In general I might agree with you:women should not contemplate war,should not weigh tactics impartially,or evade the word enemy,or view both sides and denounce nothing.Women should march for peace,or hand out white feathers to arouse bravery,spit themselves on bayonetsto protect their babies,whose skulls will be split anyway,or, having been raped repeatedly,hang themselves with their own hair.These are the functi...
By: Poemas en ingles
Margaret Atwood -Interlunar-
2006-11-28 03:33:02 Interlunar Margaret Atwood (1939 - ) Darkness waits apart from any occasion for it;like sorrow it is always available.This is only one kind, the kind in which there are starsabove the leaves, brilliant as steel nailsand countless and without regard. We are walking togetheron dead wet leaves in the intermoonamong the looming nocturnal rockswhich would be pinkish greyin daylight, gnawed and softenedby moss and ferns, which would be green,in the musty fresh yeast smellof trees rotting, each returningitself to itself and I take your hand, which is the shape a handwould be if you existed truly. I wish to show youthe darkness you are so afraid of. Trust me. This darknessis a place you can enter and beas safe in as you are anywhere;you can put one foot in front of the otherand believe the sides of your eyes.Memorize it. You will know itagain in your own time.When the appearances of things have left you,you will still have this darkness.Something of your own you can carry with you. ...
By: Poemas en ingles
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