Jan 22, 2017 11:33 AM
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(Updated Jan 22, 2017 11:28 AM)
Margaret Atwood takes the art of storytelling to new heights in a dazzling new novel that unfolds layer by astonishing layer and concludes in a brilliant and wonderfully satisfying twist.
This is the first book I have dog-eared since I was a child. I generally find such behavior to be shameful in a major way, as I a) cherish the hard text of a book, and see the decline of its role as a sacred object, the slipping away of its tactile comforts of touch, of smell, of PRESENCE, and our new-found, technologically-driven disregard of its certainty and necessity in the face of the newest electronic thingamajigs and whatchamahoos as a shame and b) am cheap, and constantly rotate my books out to where(with a few exceptions for favorites) I never own a collection of books that I have actually read. I almost immediately trade them for new ones, you see. We have our little dance, and I am gentle and kind as I am able, being certain that I have left as few dings in it as possible so that it may be salvageable for the next reader. I keep nothing but the fondest, sweetest memories of the books that I let go of. Of course, there is an element of loss involved, a sense of regret as I hand it over to whatever book re-salesman will have it. Setting something free from your clutches is never easy for thinking, feeling creatures, no matter the size of the “thing, ” and regardless of its importance to you and your sense of being.