The Handmaid’s Tale: Just Little Bits of History Repeating

Maragret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale is a grim, first-person narrative about the futuristic land of Gilead. The protagonist, Offred, struggles to fit into this patriarchy day by day; she finds joy in the little things and resists many temptations, essentially to keep her both alive and sane. In class, we discussed just what genre The Handmaid’s Tale fits under. Though Atwood herself has dismissed the idea of her novel being science fiction, there are components from science fiction, political satire, and speculative fiction to name a few, that the book incorporates. Whereas I had originally viewed The Handmaid’s Tale as a form of cautionary satire, I now believe that this novel is instead a Jeremiad; “a tale of sorrow, disappointment, or complaint; a doleful story; a dolorous tirade; — generally used satirically” (WRU Dictionary). Satire is a constituent, but does not account for the downcast voice in which this tale is written.

In order for The Handmaid’s Tale to fit this genre, there must be a sense of disappointment concerning something; there must be a target of animosity. At one level, Offred no doubt expresses her animosity toward ruthless Gilead law through her subtle rebellions. No women in this society are to read, socialize, or love, and Offred manages to do all three. There is an animosity in The Handmaid’s Tale, however, that parallels, but is much louder than, Offred’s resentment for Gilead. The disappointment expressed in this novel is Atwood’s bitterness toward the treatment of real women in present day societies. Despite the fact that Gilead is a fictional dystopia, it is made up entirely of instances of callous discrimination that occur in eutopias, anti-utopias, and heterotopias around the world.

There are many practices within the society of Gilead that are eerily similar to societal practices that Western nations have deemed “taboo”. Nonetheless, they have previously and are presently occurring. One glaring parallel is found between the discarding of unbabies in The Handmaid’s Tale, and the female infanticide reportedly occurring in the Indian village of Usilampatti. Due to the strong preference for male over female, many female infants have been brutally disposed of: “Some were fed dry, unhulled rice that punctured their windpipes, or were made to swallow poisonous powdered fertilizer. Others were smothered with a wet towel, strangled or allowed to starve to death”. (Jones, 1999). India Today writer S. H. Venkatramani comments, “In most parts of the country, a woman is still considered a burdensome appendage. She is an economic drain. She must be exploited or dispensed with as a non-person.” (Venkatramani, 1986). A non-person; an unwoman, an unbaby. Whatever the case, each is unfit for their society.

The story only becomes more and more doleful as Atwood touches on the passive oppression of women that is still present in Western societies, and is by all means socially accepted. As Offred and Ofglen are leaving All Flesh, they pass by Japanese tourists. Offred is shocked by the tourists’ “Westernized” clothing: “The skirts reach just below the knee and the legs come out from beneath them… the high-heeled shoes with their straps attached to the feet like delicate instruments of torture.” Offred continues, “I used to dress like that. That was freedom”. (Atwood, 28). How can high-heels be instruments of torture and represent freedom at the same time? This, I believe, is Atwood’s attempt to highlight the fact that even in Western societies that seemingly advocate gender equality, there are subdued forms of oppression that are nearly impossible to acknowledge, much less overcome. When gender inequalities are so deeply imbedded in the technologies and practices of any given culture, they are usually accepted effortlessly.

The blend of practices which are Eastern, Western, taboo, accepted, apparent, and veiled, are what makes The Handmaid’s Tale more or less satirical. Although each component of the story is in it of itself a depressing realization of present day societies, the combination of these “dolorous tirades” creates a ridiculous realm that is preposterous; nearly laughable. The Satire continues through Atwood’s use of words—literally—to hint at the considerable intelligence of the female protagonist in this extreme patriarchy. As Offred plays scrabble with the Commander (which is absurd enough as it is), she spells Larynx, Quince, Zygote, Sylph, and Prolix, to name a few. Have these words ever graced a scrabble board? Much less, nonchalantly? Atwood’s way with words gives Offred a droll voice in the novel. While the context is doleful, there is nonetheless satire found between the lines.

In addition to incongruous exaggeration, another characteristic of satire is formal disguise, or in Atwood’s case, “a satire which masquerades as a novel which in turn masquerades as an autobiography” (Hammer, 39). On one level, Offred’s manuscript masquerades as a novel, until the reader reaches the Historical Notes, only to find that this entire story is not actually being told by Offred, but is instead being explored within the context of a conference held in 2195 (Atwood, 299). On another level, The Handmaid’s Tale masquerades as a novel story. This book is extremely unique in so far as it represents a fictional, future world that Atwood explains contains nothing “that human societies have not already done” (Atwood interview, 2006); there is nothing new, or novel about this book at all. The autobiographical component is illustrated by the inclusion of the societal practices that Atwood sees as essential to Offred, and thus essential to herself. By having Offred experience both blatant and obscure means of female oppression, Atwood draws a parallel between the main character and herself as a female author.

The last piece of evidence that leads me to believe The Handmaid’s Tale is the epitome of a Jeremiad is in the origin of “Jeremiad” itself. The term Jeremiad is a direct reference to the book of Jeremiah in the Old Testament of the Bible (OE Dictionary). It is no coincidence that the book of Jeremiah reads, “Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician there? Why then is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered?” (Jeremiah 8:22 English Standard Version). By re-interpreting the meaning of this passage, just as the Aunts do in The Handmaid’s Tale, I see it asking an essential question: Why is it that in so many functioning societies, which The Handmaid’s Tale is a blend of, gender equality is so difficult to achieve? Atwood proposes that The Handmaid’s Tale is a “blueprint of the kinds of things human beings do when they’re put under a certain sort of pressure” (Atwood interview, 2006). It seems that under any sort of pressure, whether it be a pending apocalypse or the necessity for a hierarchy, human beings feel inherently forced to both categorize and prioritize. If and when there is a societal downfall, those who have previously been deemed weaker can easily be held accountable.

Defining the genre of The Handmaid’s Tale, or any novel at that, helps the audience to determine just what message the author is portraying. By classifying this novel as a Jeremiad, there is an allowance for a witty banter that audiences may find more accessible. Once the reader can respect and relate to both the protagonist and the author, however, a more solemn story seeps through. In this way, the reality of the cyclical nature of oppressive history may be better attended to by the audience; readers will gradually realize that both Offred and Atwood’s position is not far from their own. Thus, The Handmaid’s Tale becomes more than just a fictional book; it becomes a fictional approach to non-fictional issues. This novel can be appreciated as a means of entertainment, or understood as a reflection of society. Either way, The Handmaid’s Tale is a remarkable account of a peculiar world, which should not be dismissed as entirely impossible.