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4.13 AVERAGE
4.13 AVERAGE
Los Testamentos consiste en tres testimonios de tres mujeres cuyas vidas están ligadas a Gilead de una u otra forma y narra hechos ocurridos 15 años después de los de El Cuento de la Criada.
En primer lugar, tenemos la perspectiva de una mujer que vivió en el seno de una familia de prestigio en Gilead. Es hija de un comandante y nos deja conocer el amargo camino de una niña nacida y criada bajo el régimen.
Después, tenemos a una mujer que se crió en Canadá, a la par de Gilead, viendo noticias sobre el régimen y hasta protestando en contra de esta oscura sociedad.
La última de las tres es una de las fundadoras de Gilead y el personaje más interesante a mi parecer. Nos plantea la pregunta de qué hubiéramos hecho nosotras en su lugar.
Esta historia me gustó igual 0 incluso más que su predecesora. Aunque turbia y chocante, no podía dejar de pasar las páginas. Antes de leerlo, le tenía mucho recelo por las reseñas mixtas que vi, sin embargo, no me arrepiento de haberle dado una oportunidad.
En primer lugar, tenemos la perspectiva de una mujer que vivió en el seno de una familia de prestigio en Gilead. Es hija de un comandante y nos deja conocer el amargo camino de una niña nacida y criada bajo el régimen.
Después, tenemos a una mujer que se crió en Canadá, a la par de Gilead, viendo noticias sobre el régimen y hasta protestando en contra de esta oscura sociedad.
La última de las tres es una de las fundadoras de Gilead y el personaje más interesante a mi parecer. Nos plantea la pregunta de qué hubiéramos hecho nosotras en su lugar.
Esta historia me gustó igual 0 incluso más que su predecesora. Aunque turbia y chocante, no podía dejar de pasar las páginas. Antes de leerlo, le tenía mucho recelo por las reseñas mixtas que vi, sin embargo, no me arrepiento de haberle dado una oportunidad.
adventurous
dark
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
dark
reflective
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
I was concerned, going into this novel after having just read (for the first time) the Handmaid's Tale, that the quiet, adult dread of that book would be lost upon the inclusion of younger characters in this one. To some degree I was correct - so many aspects of Gilead and the repressive life that were revealed but never explicitly outlined in the Handmaid's Tale are told to us directly in the form of the witness testimonies and the personal accounts, and from the perspective of two children (of the three main perspectives). On some occasions I thought this added a lot to the overall story of this society and the women that live in it, and on other occasions I mourned the former book's restraint and glimpses of horror in what passed as ordinary to the adult Handmaid who had remembered the time before. I don't want to dwell too much on what I feel is lost in this book (the banality of the evil of the society from the perspective of its most repressed, as well as some of the trust in the general reader to understand without it being specifically said that pieces of that life were so horrific as to be almost unstated) because there are certainly very interesting parts added with the inclusion of children narrators - in particular at the end, when there are several short meditations on the differences in cultural perspective of the two main girl characters.
I was skeptical in more ways than the above in regards to this novel, especially for it having been written so recently. In regards to the very ambitious inclusion of Aunt Lydia as the other main perspective, I was even more wary of possibly being led forcefully to an empathetic understanding of the woman who repeatedly described how she was an active, participating architect of a nightmare regime. And I must say, full accolades to Atwood again, because more than halfway through the book I caught myself once again shimmering with rage at this character and the audacity she had to be so cold and callous, so utterly lacking of heart, even as she described being ripped away from her life and tortured into survival at all cost, and I was brought up short in a moment of reflection of not her but myself. Why did I have such a difficult time feeling anything of sympathy for this character? Why was I waiting with preemptive disgust for the moment (and there are some of these moments, though not very many of them) when she reflects upon her life and feels sorry for herself and her situation? What about this extremely complex character induces such a closed-off state of mind in regard to her innocence (she has none, and this is never refuted) and her worthiness of the same empathy I can so easily feel towards her co-stars of the book? If the two girls' ignorance, and abhorrent perspectives, and actions are understood through their childhoods and the society in which they grew up in, and informed by their own trauma, why could I not extend the same character analysis framework to Aunt Lydia? The fact that these questions are brought up at all is the hallmark, to me, of not just excellent writing, but of what the book is meant to do for me as a reader. In the end, I was foolish in my assumption that I would walk into this book already convinced of what Atwood wanted to show me and convince me of, and what would largely happen. It's not hard to guess who is who and what is likely to happen, and I am certainly aligned with the political messages about patriarchy, totalitarianism, and societal censorship and repression. But this book left me questioning the bounds of my own empathy and (especially religious) prejudice, and the degree to which I can engage with a character who is complicit in this way - and this is interesting, because while we do not have Gilead in real life (yet... haha.... hahaha...) we do have plenty of examples of people who are benefiting within systems that harm them, and who engage in power struggles within their absolute upper limits to the detriment of their own communities, and people who are very hurt themselves who replicate, expand, and wield that terror on others afterwards, and who despite themselves are still people who sometimes do good even if their good choices certainly cannot outweigh the harm they've inflicted, and whose beliefs can be both severely harmful and a source of their moral courage, and I could go on, and on, and on. I hate Aunt Lydia with something very vivid within me and I still have to sit with and really think on that.
I can't wait for the bookclub discussion.
I was skeptical in more ways than the above in regards to this novel, especially for it having been written so recently. In regards to the very ambitious inclusion of Aunt Lydia as the other main perspective, I was even more wary of possibly being led forcefully to an empathetic understanding of the woman who repeatedly described how she was an active, participating architect of a nightmare regime. And I must say, full accolades to Atwood again, because more than halfway through the book I caught myself once again shimmering with rage at this character and the audacity she had to be so cold and callous, so utterly lacking of heart, even as she described being ripped away from her life and tortured into survival at all cost, and I was brought up short in a moment of reflection of not her but myself. Why did I have such a difficult time feeling anything of sympathy for this character? Why was I waiting with preemptive disgust for the moment (and there are some of these moments, though not very many of them) when she reflects upon her life and feels sorry for herself and her situation? What about this extremely complex character induces such a closed-off state of mind in regard to her innocence (she has none, and this is never refuted) and her worthiness of the same empathy I can so easily feel towards her co-stars of the book? If the two girls' ignorance, and abhorrent perspectives, and actions are understood through their childhoods and the society in which they grew up in, and informed by their own trauma, why could I not extend the same character analysis framework to Aunt Lydia? The fact that these questions are brought up at all is the hallmark, to me, of not just excellent writing, but of what the book is meant to do for me as a reader. In the end, I was foolish in my assumption that I would walk into this book already convinced of what Atwood wanted to show me and convince me of, and what would largely happen. It's not hard to guess who is who and what is likely to happen, and I am certainly aligned with the political messages about patriarchy, totalitarianism, and societal censorship and repression. But this book left me questioning the bounds of my own empathy and (especially religious) prejudice, and the degree to which I can engage with a character who is complicit in this way - and this is interesting, because while we do not have Gilead in real life (yet... haha.... hahaha...) we do have plenty of examples of people who are benefiting within systems that harm them, and who engage in power struggles within their absolute upper limits to the detriment of their own communities, and people who are very hurt themselves who replicate, expand, and wield that terror on others afterwards, and who despite themselves are still people who sometimes do good even if their good choices certainly cannot outweigh the harm they've inflicted, and whose beliefs can be both severely harmful and a source of their moral courage, and I could go on, and on, and on. I hate Aunt Lydia with something very vivid within me and I still have to sit with and really think on that.
I can't wait for the bookclub discussion.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child abuse, Child death, Incest, Misogyny, Pedophilia, Rape, Sexism, Sexual assault, Sexual violence, Suicide, Torture, Religious bigotry, Medical trauma
dark
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
dark
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Loveable characters:
Yes
Content Warnings
Graphic: Misogyny, Sexism
Moderate: Confinement, Pedophilia, Sexual assault, Suicide
dark
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
The ending of this felt rushed, little disappointing tbh but overall decent. Squeakwals are never as good as the originals as they say...
emotional
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
A fantastic companion novel to the Handmaid’s Tale. I actually preferred this one to the original, though it’s a close call. This book has many fantastic things to offer, especially if the world of Gilead fascinated you at all. Extremely well written, and a gripping plot.