Cursed Handmaids And Cursive Eves

The amazing industrial band I:Scintilla. Can't wait for new album 'Dying and Falling'!

You can find the lyrics to 'Cursive Eve' here.

As I already discussed in my previous article on ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’, Gilead, the land in which the novel is set, is a dystopian world founded on extremist Puritan Christian principles – a patriarchal misogynistic society. But how does something so twisted and evil emerge out of the words of a Bible that supposedly teaches us the righteousness of equity, to love our neighbours and to live peaceful lives?

Let’s rephrase that: the words of a Bible that supposedly preaches goodwill to all men, the importance of brotherhood and to love our Father.

The song ‘Cursive Eve’ by I:Scintilla is one interpretation of Christianity which highlights how such a sexist, unjust society as Gilead could have been conceived. In the words of Briony, the lead singer, ‘the song is about the oppressive Christian views of women, and the rigid roles and moulds many women feel they are forced into, from birth to adulthood’. She also comments that ‘these outlooks seem to have a profound consequence on a woman’s self-esteem, mental stability, creativity and sexuality’ – all consequences that are shown in a devastating light in ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ through the experiences of Offred and her fellow handmaids.

So, how does religion have such profound consequences on women from birth till adulthood? Well, at birth, as well as the significant pre-determination of various aspects of your life dependent on your gender, who you become is also dependent on your parents, and the society you grow up in. If you grow up in a society founded on religious beliefs, this will impact your identity. In ‘Cursive Eve’, this factor is not presented as simply a passive factor of your surroundings, but as something that confines and suppresses individuality: ‘you were born wrapped in the pages / the words bind your mind and body’. However, this is not something that all children are subjected to. I:Scintilla say that despite the ‘false comfort of thin paper’ every child is wrapped in, they are distinguished and differentiated by gender. And if you’re female, this means that ‘you’re claimed as unclean property’, and ‘classified as a nameless mass’.

The next verse introduces the idea of ‘they’ – ‘they’ representing those whose views are presented in the Bible, and those who enforce ‘the Word’. In ‘Cursive Eve’, ‘they’ are always the active group, whilst ‘you’ (women) are passive (here I:Scintilla’s use of second-person address has an ‘othering’ effect that isolates the addressee, reciprocating the effect of misogynistic Christian beliefs on women). ‘They say you need guilt to be good’ shows how the Bible dictates how women need to suffer guiltiness (regardless of individuality) to be considered ‘good’. Why? ‘They say in you lives an Eve’. Eden lost – Eve’s fault. Eve fell first, dragging Adam down with her.

Timothy 2:13-14 – ‘For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in transgression’.

Thus womankind is forever seconded in the eyes of Christianity, subjected to patriarchal control, and made to feel guilty, whilst ‘your brothers all remain blameless’. This male interpretation of ‘the Word’ turns Biblical belief into the ‘heart of snares and nets’ to incarcerate and restrain women, whilst the hands of believers become restrictive ‘bands’.

The beginning of the third verse reads like a sermon:

‘They say “in you lives an Eve” and
“Thy desire rules over thee”
“Thou shall not let witches live”’

The line ‘thy desire rules over thee’ is, in fact, a subverted version of a passage from Genesis (3:16). The actual line is ‘thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee’ – even more patriarchal and demeaning of women than I:Scintilla’s version! I:Scintilla highlight Eve, witches, and later, ‘male angels’ – all Christian icons; all very paternal and misogynistic in nature. ‘Witches’ were any woman in some way alienated from society and thus labelled ‘evil’. They were feared by people in many Christian societies around the world, and any suspect was subject to a witch trial – inevitably ending in the murder of the woman in question, regardless of actual guilt. After all, a woman needs guilt to be good, so if she doesn’t die a witch, she should be glad to die an innocent, right? Again, I:Scintilla reiterate how constricted women are by such beliefs: ‘the fiction binds your mind and body’. It is significant that this is almost a direct repeat from an earlier phrase, the only difference being that ‘the words’ has now been changed to ‘the fiction’ – showing how really ‘the Word’ is fictitious in nature.

The ideas of the salvation the religion supposedly offers and the actual bondage in its place are directly juxtaposed in the lyrics of the chorus, where Biblical devotion is even likened to BDSM:

‘Kneel - here you’re not scared to die

Beg - those dogs will lick and drink you dry

Kneel - eat the pretty cursive lie

Beg - and you will not be scared to die’

Kneeling and begging are both submissive positions, used when pleading for something. The idea of kneeling here is contrasted to kneeling during prayers, and begging is likened to the behaviour of a dog trying to appease its master. But this time the dogs are superior to women: the lyric ‘those dogs will lick and drink you dry’ not only highlights the low position women have been assigned by the Bible, but how they are (ab)used, subjected to the whim of the patriarchy. The ‘pretty cursive lie’ that women are forced to eat is, obviously, the words of the Bible; the word ‘cursive’ highlighting the handwritten (and therefore man-made and fictitious) nature of the Bible, and the flow of how these words are continually interpreted and reinterpreted and misinterpreted to further repress and demean women. Women are also presented with a threat: only if they accept and ‘eat’ these lies, will they ‘not be scared to die’ – i.e. only by conforming to the restricted lives the Bibles states they can live, can they reach heaven.

And so women are forced into the ‘rigid roles and moulds’ that Biblical teachings have created for them. They are totally overwhelmed by ‘the Word’, turned into possessions of the Church. The lyric ‘give you away to male angels’ shows this possession (women can be given, and can thus be ‘held’), but it is also shown to be a possession that is unwanted. Women are given away to ‘male angels’ (another patriarchal symbol: men are powerful, heavenly beings) for reformation, to combat their evil whilst ‘the leaders’ (the mysterious ‘they’) ‘all remain shameless’, despite the unjust, sexist treatment they are perpetrating. To allow this reformation, women are told they must ‘wash away rain’s ancient marking’ – in other words, erase the Eve-mould which they are cast in from the dawn of time (impossible, as it is not a role they have ascribed to themselves), and ‘beg [themselves] for forgiveness’ – also impossible; how can one forgive themselves for something they have never done? Thus reformation is inconceivable, and women must remain ‘evil’ and unclean forever – but of course, this is their fault – after all, they were given guidance on how to go about their spiritual rejuvenation.

The final section of the song contains further subverted passages from Genesis: ‘must thy sorrow multiply / thy conception in sorrow’ is a play on the words of the same passage in Genesis as referenced earlier: ‘I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception: in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children’. I:Scintilla shows how these words of God before the Fall can be reinterpreted to shift the cause of this sorrow from God (in the Bible, God is the active personage ‘I will...’) to women themselves (‘thy sorrow multiply’, ‘thy conception in sorrow’ – the sorrow belongs solely to women instead of being borne upon them by someone else). This shows how interpretations of the Bible can really subvert the meaning of the text, and how interpretations can be used to condemn and oppress women. They can easily be told ‘thou shall live in the silence / with all subjection’ (a subversion of ‘let the wom[e]n learn in silence with all subjection’ – Timothy 2:11, which is also used by a Commander at the opening of a Pravaganza in ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’), and will remain voiceless victims, controlled and repressed by the will of ‘the Word’. The passage from Timothy continues ‘notwithstanding, she shall be saved by childbearing’ – just one of the ‘rigid roles’ prescribed for women by Christian doctrine, and the principle upon which Gilead is based.

And what of man – the leaders, the male angels? I:Scintilla present him far from the fallen-heroic image of Adam in Genesis, who was tricked by Eve into evilness. Although they admit that ‘he may hear false answers’, and be influenced by ‘evil’ outside himself, I:Scintilla point out that ‘he lets the voices in’ – it is his choice what to believe. Thus they claim that Adam was equally to blame for the Fall, and that men are no more sacred than women.

The last couple of lines of ‘Cursive Eve’ I perceive as a question, posed to women: ‘must thy sorrow follow / visions in his head?’. Must women’s oppression and misery be caused by men’s fictions - men’s religions? It is not a question for women to take upon themselves, but one to make them think: is this what I want to be told to believe; do I want to have such ‘sorrow’ forced upon me? It is an offer of escape.

* * *

Of course, ‘Cursive Eve’ is just one interpretation of the effects of Christianity – and everyone is entitled to their own view. My point is, the Bible, as with any literature, is there to be interpreted, and so it has been – by Christians and non-Christians alike. As with any form of organised religion, different factions of Christianity have emerged, all believing slightly different things under the huge banner of ‘Christianity’. This is nothing to object to – but it allows extremist groups to emerge. Those groups of people who twist and subvert the words of their ‘god’, or ‘prophet’, or whoever, until they bear little resemblance to the words out of which they were borne. This is what happened in Gilead, where the extremists took over the country and used their power to enforce their beliefs on everyone else, persecuting and executing those of opposing religions. They twisted the words of the Bible to enforce their misogynistic beliefs on an entire population (almost everything Aunt Lydia says is a clear example of this), and to perpetrate evil, all in the name of God. All from the Word of God.

From the Word, anything is possible.

Violence, Innocence and Sorrow in Lobelia's Lament

Twentieth century American poet Louise Bogan is often quoted as saying 'innocence of heart and violence of feeling are necessary in any kind of superior achievement; the arts cannot exist without them’. This was a principle she strongly believed in, and is reflected in her poetry. Many of Bogan’s poems have some autobiographical content, whether the situation recorded was based entirely on her past or simply contained reflections of emotions she has experienced, and the poem ‘Little Lobelia’s Song’ is certainly no exception to this.

The source of ‘Little Lobelia’s Song’ was in what one biographer called ‘the weeping spells of Bogan’s old age’ (Bogan suffered from depression, and hospitalised herself a couple of times during her life) when she was apparently visited by the ghost of her childhood. Bogan herself described the poem as ‘a dual self … in mirror images’. Hence the first stanza:

I was once a part
Of your blood and bone.
Now no longer –
I’m alone, I’m alone.

The phrase ‘was once’ obviously indicates that this bond between the narrator and the addressee of the poem, that went to the extent of sharing ‘blood and bone’, occurred in the past. The dash at the end of the third line indicates structurally the divide between the two; the placement of this hyphen after the words ‘now no longer’ emphasises the fact that this split is the current state of affairs. However, the repetition in the forth line, ‘I’m alone, I’m alone’, reinforces the ideas of duality and echoes (repetitions of past sounds and images), and suggests that some kind of link between the two personas of the poem remains.

This remaining bond is also reflected in the form of the poem. The title clearly indicates that this poem is written in the style of a song, and thus has a simple rhythm and constant rhyme scheme. This creates a ‘harmonious’ effect within the poem – not only ‘harmonious’ musically, so that the words could be fitted to music as a literal song – but also ‘harmonious’ thematically, as the form reflects the bond between the narrator, Little Lobelia, and Bogan, the addressee. This is further emphasised by Bogan’s choice of rhyme scheme: only lines 2 and 4 of each stanza rhyme. This subtly reasserts the idea that there is a bond between the pair (through harmony on even numbered lines), whilst contrasting it with the ‘discord’ of lines 1 and 3 of each stanza, which hint that the bond is fragmented, and over a great distance (in this case, temporal, not spatial).

However, the relationship between Little Lobelia and Bogan is more complex than it first appears, and it is not simply a ‘temporal shift’ that has enabled them to meet face to face. Lobelia’s childish, innocent narrative voice, constructed of short, simple words and almost factual statements (there are many positive, active verbs used in the poem: for example, ‘I know’, ‘I can’, ‘you look’ etc.) and her use of rhyme and simple repetition are contrasted with harsh images and emotions that her words evoke. For instance, her use of the phrase ‘part / of your blood and bone’ creates a more stark and sinister image than if she had instead said ‘part of you’, and there are several references to emotional torment, such as the fear in the words ‘I can’t get back’, and the constant references to crying.

In fact, something almost sinister emerges in their relationship in the third stanza:

Not lost, but abandoned,
Left behind;
This is my hand
Upon your mind.

Here, two issues are raised. First, Bogan’s childhood ghost feels that she was ‘abandoned’ – ‘left behind’ in the past. This makes it sound as if Bogan’s ‘growing up’ was a deliberate act - a case of sacrificing innocence, as far as Lobelia is concerned. This, to some extent, was true for Bogan, who was forced to abandon her youthful romanticism at an early age after the failure of her first marriage when she was aged just nineteen, and face harsh reality. Secondly, there is a hint of bitterness in Little Lobelia’s voice at this sacrifice – a bitterness that almost reaches a desire for revenge in the following lines.

There is something distinctly disturbing in the lines ‘This is my hand / Upon your mind’. Not only does it suggest Little Lobelia has a controlling influence over Bogan – perhaps referring to prevailing ‘childish’ (intense, wild, uncontrollable) emotional urges through her mental illness – but also that Bogan is so vulnerable, even a seemingly harmless ghost child can reach inside her and (potentially) damage what gives her the very essence of ‘selfhood’. It is this threat of jeopardised identity that makes the ghost of Little Lobelia so disturbing.

So, what evidence of Lobelia’s power over Bogan is there in the poem? It would appear at first glance that Lobelia is the one that is powerless, vulnerable and victimised: she has been ‘abandoned’, ‘can barely speak’, and repeatedly weeps. To see the effect of Lobelia on her addressee, we must go back to the original quote I gave from Bogan: 'innocence of heart and violence of feeling are necessary in any kind of superior achievement; the arts cannot exist without them’. For the creation of this poem, both of these things – innocence of heart and violence of feeling – are found within the poet, but within different her personas in the poem. The ‘innocence of heart’ is clearly an aspect of the childish Little Lobelia, whilst this in itself is the provocation of the required ‘violence of feeling’ from Bogan, resulting in the transcription of emotions and illusions in the form of the poem itself. Lobelia’s power over Bogan is her control over Bogan’s artistic progress, and thus, ultimately, her life.

But why is such ‘violence of feeling’ evoked in the addressee by Lobelia’s innocence? This is due to part of their complex relationship: Bogan’s retrospective view of her childhood in light of her later life. Bogan looks upon her childhood ghost, her reflection in the looking glass being ‘the face / [her] likeness has’, and shares Lobelia’s view that Lobelia represents Bogan’s sacrificed innocence. Seeing the mere ghost of her innocence after years of emotional torture both through failed romances and tragic mental illness would obviously have a profound effect on Bogan.

Yet it is not only innocence lost that Bogan recognises in Little Lobelia, but also what they both retain and share: sorrow. The relationship between the pair, though strained by time and experience, is strengthened by their joint sorrow. As Lobelia states; ‘these are my tears / upon your cheek’. Bogan, as poet, represents this in the last two lines of the poem:

Else I weep, weep
Else I cry, cry.

The meaning of both these lines is exactly the same: both depict someone crying. The repetition of each word echoes the duality of the situation; the ‘mirror image’ effect that Bogan described. But the use of two different words that are synonymous, instead of simply using the same word, shows that although the emotion behind their tears is the same – sorrow – it is for different reasons, under different circumstances. Even though they might both be weeping for innocence lost, both mourn this loss in relation to themselves.

‘Little Lobelia’s Song’ is clearly a very emotional and personal poem for Bogan. So why transcribe something so intense in the confined form of a short poem, to later be published for anyone to read? Well, as suggested by other poems by Bogan (I’m specifically thinking of ‘Medusa’, but I’m sure there are others) where speaker and ‘shadow’ (another self both frightening and recognisable) meet eye-to-eye, Bogan considered such encounters crucial to her poetic imagery, and to her perception of the poet-muse relationship. Bogan believed that only by directly facing ‘the beast within’ can the poet come to terms with their own hidden powers: hence Bogan reveals that she would not have had the capacity to write such emotionally-driven poems as ‘Little Lobelia’s Song’ without the ‘violence of feeling’ provided by the dark inner-sorrows of muses like innocent Little Lobelia – the ghost of her younger self.

Escapism vs. Escape in ‘The Glass Menagerie’ - Continued

Part Two: Escape
Right from Tom’s opening monologue, the audience discovers how escape has shaped the lives of the Wingfields. Tom’s father was ‘a telephone man who fell in love with long distances’, who escaped the lives of the Wingfield family with a letter that simply stated “Hello – Goodbye!”. His ‘larger-than-life-sized photograph over the mantel’ serves as a constant reminder to the family (especially to Tom) that escape can be achieved (it is often lit up at crucial moments of the play to emphasise its symbolic nature), but also as a mocking reminder that the characters remain trapped.

Just as ‘art’ (an image of the father) acts as a symbol of escape, so does music. Laura constantly relies on the music of the Victrola for an escape from any awkward situation she finds herself in: i.e. any time she feels she is being forced to face reality. For example, when Amanda insists that Laura answer the door to ‘the gentleman caller’, Laura avoids this duty by going to play the Victrola to ease her anxiety. Music often has the effect of transporting the listener to ‘another world’, one that is less stressful and wrought with troubles as reality, and so acts as an escape to another place, even whilst the listener remains static. However, despite this escapist quality, the listener can only escape momentarily with music – Laura does eventually have to answer the door – and it is therefore, as many of the other forms of escape in this play, it is only a futile method of temporary escape that is metaphysical rather than spatial.

The events of the play throughout are also governed by the theme of escape. One reason for this is Amanda’s control over the domestic setting, with her desires for her children to have successful futures controlling the family. Amanda wishes to ensure her children escape from their current depressing existence; Tom through his job providing for the family, Laura through being married off to a nice ‘gentleman caller’. However, ironically, her obsession with this ends up actually repressing the whole family’s capacity for escape two-fold. It entraps Amanda in her neurotic state (‘her life is paranoia’), and entraps the children in her mother’s ambitions for them, which neither of them can ever fulfil.

Despite her ambitions’ overall failings, Amanda’s will does ensure that a ‘gentleman caller’ does materialise to meet Laura. His arrival is so critical and anticipated by the family as his role could be to free the entire family from their enslavement in their unwanted roles. However, after raising their hopes, Jim too further entraps the family, sending a devastated Laura deeper into regression in her fantasy world, dashing Amanda’s hopes of her children’s success, and denying Tom his chance to escape his warehouse job whilst ensuring the family’s safety – so that eventually, ‘to escape from a trap he has to act without pity’.

One of the main symbols of escape in the play is, of course, the fire escape. It is literally the escape from the domestic setting, but its true function also hints at the escape from danger and damage – which it really is. It is the place where wishes of brighter futures are made on the moon; the place where Laura stumbles whenever she tries to, showing her dependency on her own little world, and the place Tom constantly seeks to, and eventually does, escape.

Tom is the character most desperate for escape from his depressing existence. Sick of futile escapism through visits to the movies, and living through the escapades of Hollywood stars (which he uses as ‘compensation’), he seeks adventure of his own. He is particularly inspired by a magic show he witnesses, seeing the magicians trick of escaping from a coffin bolted down without removing a nail as similar to the trick he must perform to escape from the home.

‘But the wonderfullest trick of all was the coffin trick. We nailed him into a coffin and he got out of the coffin without removing one nail. There is a trick that would come in handy for me - get me out of this two-by-four situation.’

Tom’s job at the warehouse pays the rent and bills – he has been forced to provide for his mother and sister since his father left. He cannot escape the ‘coffin’ of his home without removing a nail, until there is someone to take his place (i.e. a husband for Laura) – which never happens.

But Tom is so desperate to escape that he eventually does so – removing several nails in the process. He abandons his mother and sister without anyone to provide for them, leaving them symbolically in the dark after using the money supposed to pay the electricity bills to fund his application to the Merchant Marines. So he escapes and gets to travel the world – but he can never escape entirely. He’s constantly haunted by the sad memory of his lonely sister, and everywhere he goes, however far away, the memory of her stays with him.

‘Oh, Laura, Laura, I tried to leave you behind me, but I am more faithful than I intended to be! I reach for a cigarette, I cross the street, I run into the movies or a bar, I buy a drink, I speak to the nearest stranger—anything that can blow your candles out! For nowadays the world is lit by lightning! Blow out your candles, Laura’

And it is this that adds the element of tragedy to the domestic drama – not one of the characters escapes their depressing, mundane existence unscathed. ‘The Glass Menagerie’ highlights how the world - and all our lives - contains suffering, and it’s a fact we have to face: ‘life's not easy, it calls for - Spartan endurance!’ Life is about commitment; to both other people and yourself, and responsibility has to be taken (which both Laura and Tom are very reluctant to do), and duties have to be done. As Amanda states, even time itself is an inescapable sentence:

‘the future becomes the present, the present becomes the past, and the past turns into everlasting regret if you don't plan for it!’

Escapism vs. Escape in ‘The Glass Menagerie’

Escape and escapism are major themes in Tennessee Williams’ play, ‘The Glass Menagerie’. The themes span the entire play, control the lives of the characters, and are manifested throughout through Williams’ use of symbols, setting and structure.
I’m going to upload this article in two parts because it kind of turned into an epic rambling on the themes, so I’ll separate it nicely into ‘Escapism’ and ‘Escape’ for you all.

* * *

Part One: Escapism
Escapism is a very real aspect of the Wingfield family. Each member has its own methods and reasons for their desire to slip through the meshes of reality into the realms of fantasy (though these reasons generally boil down to dislike of their depressing, mundane existences). This wish to dismiss the painful reality of their lives through the use of fantasy or memory is manifested in such ways because of the futility and impossibility of a clean break from the family, and of real escape. The family members are inextricably bound to one another by their joint need for escape and for fulfilment. This makes escapism extremely important in keeping their world in one piece.
Amanda’s escapism is very much rooted in her memories of the past. She is described as ‘a little woman of great vitality clinging frantically to another time and place’: somewhere where she was happy. Amanda’s memories of Blue Mountain, her home when she was young girl, is her where of trying to bring some of the spirit of the good ol’ days, when she was young and popular and loved and sought after, into her current, boring, life. She buys jonquils, a flower she was obsessed with in her youth, to try and bring this spark of happiness and vivacity back into her life.

But this flower of youth is now faded and ineffectual when faced with Laura’s relative failure at attracting gentlemen callers compared to Amanda’s tale of 17 gentlemen callers in one day back at Blue Mountain. Laura crippling shyness prevents Amanda from living through her daughter’s youth and beauty as she would like to. Her only other method of escapism in the present is through her membership of the prestigious D.A.R (Daughters of the American Revolution – a women’s society for descendants of the patriots of the Revolutionary War). Her membership is a way of holding on to her faded glory – hence she wears her best outfit (all cheap or imitation) and presents her sugary Southern charm to other D.A.R members. But even this escapism proves relatively ineffectual: she is shunned by other members that she speaks to on the phone; one woman even hangs up on her. All Amanda wants is love and acceptance, something she had in abundance in her youth, but now seems scarce to her. Her futile escapism strives for these, even if it means searching for it in places that are really out of reach for her.

Tom uses escapism because he longs for adventure. He goes to the movies every night to escape the drab life he leads as a warehouse worker (a profession he detests when he truly wishes to be a poet and travel the world), living with his overbearing mother and dependent sister. These over-frequent trips to the movies he feels are ‘compensation for lives that passed like [his], without any change or adventure’. He is accused by his mother, who relies on him to ‘make sacrifices’ and generally face reality on behalf of the family via his work at the warehouse, of retreating into fantasy: ‘you live in a dream: you manufacture illusions’. But, far more so than the other characters, Tom actually focuses on making his escapism a reality through attempts at practical escape. In the end he does follow in the footsteps of his father and successfully escapes the family – though how effectively this is achieved is debatable...

However, the third Wingfield really takes the biscuit when it comes to escapism, for Laura is the ultimate fantasist. Almost everything Laura does or says in the play is for some kind of escape or escapism. She is described as a girl who has ‘failed to establish contact with reality’, who lives ‘in a world of her own – a world of glass ornaments’. Her ‘glass menagerie’, as Amanda calls it, is Laura’s main means of escapism in the play: it is a world into which she becomes absorbed, and focuses all her energies on. The glass menagerie is Laura’s escape from the harshness of reality. Her disability and lack of confidence has led to an intense shyness. So she chooses to isolate herself in a world of glass, and dotes over the tiny ornaments to avoid interaction with others. It is no surprise that this key symbol of escapism gives the play its title.

Laura’s glass menagerie is a collection of tiny glass animal figurines. She feels a far stronger connection with these creatures than any human, even ascribing the glass figures personalities. She, in many ways, feels herself one of her own glass collection, and Tom notes her increasing regression into this world of fantasy: ‘she is like a piece of her own glass collection, too exquisitely fragile’. The glass animal that she particularly identifies with as her favourite is a glass unicorn, a creature that shares her singularity and fragility. But the horn of this unicorn is broken off when it falls from a table knocked by Jim and Laura whilst dancing. Laura’s comment to reassure Jim after this is that ‘glass breaks so easily. No matter how careful you are’. This is also true of Laura, who after Jim’s rejection of her, on account of his engagement, retreats further back into her fantasies, and also of the nature of her escapism – it is truly a fragile world that is almost destroyed by the interference of Jim, the ‘emissary from a world of reality’. But there is a difference between the unicorn and Laura. The unicorn becomes just like the other glass horses, and transfers from the world of fantasy to reality. This could symbolise Laura’s refutation of her escapism, but instead she gives the broken unicorn to Jim as ‘a souvenir’, thus separating the assimilated unicorn from herself and retaining her singularity. The glass unicorn leaves the Wingfield home with Jim on his departure, whilst Laura remains trapped in her world of escapism.

You & I, Amplified: Craziness and Individuality in the Dystopian World of ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’

Recently we’ve begun our study of Margaret Atwood’s ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ in English Lit classes. This article is about something that came up in discussion when my English group looked at the first two chapters of the novel, which I have then elaborated on (unfortunately, I’m afraid these elaborations are likely to be highly incoherent, so be prepared!). We were discussing dystopian fiction and social satires through looking at these chapters and the epigrams at the start of the book, and got onto the question of what exactly is Gilead. Yes, it’s a dystopian world set in the future, but it is by no means alien: Atwood clearly bases it on precepts in the current world like government surveillance, the role of women in society and the Biblical concepts that Gilead is founded on. She herself in fact wanted this novel to be called ‘speculative fiction’ and not science fiction. So is this dystopian world really so far from what we live in now?

The fact is, Gilead is not that different from the current world, and this is what makes it so chilling. It is the present day world, with all its imperfections and prejudices, amplified. The different factions of men and women are basically an exaggerated version of the separation of social classes and clique-y labels; the slogans and catchphrases used to promote the regime are similar to the rhetoric of advertising in our capitalist culture; and the delegation of jobs (men as ‘Commanders’, controlling state affairs and business, or as Angels/Guardians [army, policing or manual work]; women as household maids and reproduction vessels) are really, unfortunately, only an amplified version of the typified gender-occupation divide in the world today.

It’s shocking how grotesque the world looks when exaggerated in this way.

One of the characters enforcing the new Gilead law is Aunt Lydia, who says:

"Ordinary … is what you are used to. This may not seem ordinary to you now, but after a time it will. It will become ordinary."

Surely this means that anything, however seemingly outrageous, crazy, unjustified, etc, can become ‘normal’ and accepted within time. How, then, does one decipher the difference between what is normal and what is abnormal, what is acceptable and what is not? How can one draw the line between the possible and the impossible? The world of Gilead may seem like a nightmare alternative reality, but is it really beyond the realms of possibility?

This reminded me of a quote from ‘Girl, Interrupted’, when Susanna is contemplating whether or not she was actually ever ‘crazy’:

"Was I ever crazy? Maybe. Or maybe life is. Crazy isn’t being broken, or swallowing a dark secret – it’s you or me, amplified."

Is this really all that ‘crazy’ or ‘abnormal’ is – ordinary, amplified? Taking a person or a concept or a set of principles and augmenting them? If you think about it, it makes sense. Aren’t people who are considered ‘mad’ just ordinary people, but with one or more characteristic or emotion within themselves magnified? Take bi-polars for example: everyone experiences moodswings between happiness and sadness; the cycles between mania and depression are surely more defined versions of these. And anorexics: everyone experiences some lack of confidence with regards to their body-image at some time during their life; anorexics have a more in-depth, concentrated version of this. Of course this is a generalisation, and I am by no means attempting to ‘simplify’ or belittle any mental illnesses here, far from it, but it is a notable general trend.

And so the question can be asked ‘what is normal?’ with regards to craziness. The saying goes that ‘everyone’s a little bit crazy’ – and so they should be! This ‘craziness’ is just a little bit of our personality, typical of human beings, that has been magnified out of proportion and is turned into a ‘quirk’ or trait. And, as ‘ordinary is what you’re used to’, this state of mind will seem normal to the individual experiencing it, as they don’t know of a different mind set. And thus individuality is born!

In ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’, individuality is repressed: everyone is prescribed a delegated uniform, code of conduct, manner of speech, etc. It gets to the stage where Offred, the main protagonist, feels that she even has to control her thoughts:

‘Like other things now, thought must be rationed. There’s a lot that doesn’t bear thinking about. Thinking can hurt your chances, and I intend to last.'

This is because thinking can give her away; betray her individuality, and her will for rebellion and freedom against the oppressive Gilead system. Her feelings – her individual amplified quirks interacting and responding to her surroundings, put into words inside her head – are dangerous because they betray her individual ‘craziness’, her personal amplifications, and this is exactly what the Gilead regime wishes to repress. Offred is afraid that if she accidently voices her innermost thoughts (which would mostly be considered treasonous), she will be punished for working against a system that enforces uniform roles, and treats women more as child-bearing machines than as people.

And this is where the Gilead world becomes a true dystopia. Whilst our current Western world may not exactly be a constant celebration of individuality, especially with the rise of consumerist culture, it is certainly a world where people’s differing dynamics are taken into account and used for the advantage of society as a whole. If you are good at a particular skill, for instance, photography, you are able to use that skill to your own personal advantage, through making money out of it or simply enjoying it as a hobby, and to the advantage of society as a whole, providing art for people. People are able to specialise within almost every different area of work ('the division of labour’, as it’s known by economists), so people make the most of their ‘quirks’ and talents, and the economy works as efficiently as possible. What frightens us about Gilead is the repression of this individuality that we so depend on to shape our societies into communities we wish to belong to. Because whilst personal amplifications may not be the most utilitarian way of exploiting ‘resources’ – which is what the Gilead regime aims for – it is certainly a far better way for the world to work.