Stone Mattresses: Nine Tales by Margaret Atwood
Sometimes I think Margaret Atwood is a machine. Thus far she has written 14 novels, 7 books of short fiction, 8 children’s books, 10 non-fiction books, and 17 poetry collections. And that’s not even a full count! She has a new collection of short stories out called Stone Mattress: Nine Tales and it is a formidable addition to her oeuvre.
I love Margaret Atwood’s short fiction, and all of these stories are no exception. She crafts fascinating nuanced stories in such a short amount of time. I want to keep reading every single story after it finishes; I want to stay with the characters, to learn more about their lives and habits.
The book starts with three intertwining stories: Alphinland, Revenant, and Dark Lady. The first follows Constance, an aging widow who writes pulpy fantasy novels set in Alphinland – a world entirely of her creation. The story takes place during an intense show storm where she talks to her husband’s ghost and reflects on the event that led her to create her fantasy world: a relationship with a talented but selfish poet who cheated on her. The second story is about that poet, the third about the woman he cheated on her with. These three portraits give you a surprisingly well-rounded view of their world. The characters drift back into each other’s lives and consciousness, with each tale building to a cathartic resolution.
Many of these stories focus on middle age and older people, primarily women. The characters are faced with a variety of issues posed by age: loneliness, self-sufficiency, beauty, their past. Their experiences inform their every move. They reflect on their youthful mishaps while planning, often with significant cunning, their next move.
A couple of the stories have a hint of speculative fiction. The final tale takes place in a retirement home where the nearly-blind protagonist has Charles Bonnet syndrome causing vivid hallucinations of Lilliputian dancing sprites. Simultaneously, the retirement home is besieged by “Our Turn,” a violent international group of young activists bent on eradicating the old. The older generations ruined the world (though they didn’t mean to), and now these activists plan on shoving them off. In another story, Lusus Naturae, a mutation causes a little girl to gradually transform into a sort of wolf-person. She is shunned and scorned by her family; and, while she looks like a monster, she still has all her faculties intact. She hears everything the doctors and her parents are saying about her, even when they don’t think she can hear. Her innocence is heartbreaking, and Atwood perfectly captures her isolation and poignant insight.
The stories are intricate but not pristine. They are glimpses into the worlds of individuals: beautiful, cryptic, and finite.
Allie @ Central