Margaret Atwood
In Thrall to the Casually Colloquial Tone
Let us provocatively generalise from the particular and suggest that Margaret Atwood is not always an especially curious writer; that in stories like Bluebeard’s Egg (1986) and the essays Negotiating with the Dead (2002), and on occasion in the earlier, often superb, short story collection, Dancing Girls, she asserts a position rather than suggests one. Yet even if someone might agree with our claims, why should a writer convey curiosity in their work, and is this just not one of many modes of expression available? To help locate what we mean by curiosity here we can offer as examples writers who very clearly seem to possess it, including Doris Lessing, J. M. Coetzee and Bernard Malamud, and in a very different way Borges and Kundera. In the first three examples the emphasis is ethical; in the latter pairing more metaphysical and epistemological. But they are all enquiring writers who often work out of a conundrum that leads to further entanglements. In Coetzee, it might be central character David Lurie’s belief inDisgrace that his pleasures shouldn’t be hampered; better the healthy beast than the neutered creature. In Borges, it might rest on wondering where exactly the I exists for a writer who both walks along the street and also has an abstract called ‘Borges’ who we are reading in his absence, and now after his death.