‘Dearly’ by Margaret Atwood

Although I’ve been a long-time fan of Margaret Atwood’s novels, I hadn’t really read much of her poetry before this. Thanks to NetGalley for the audiobook version (narrated by Atwood herself) – I did also buy the hardback version as I think I take things in differently through reading and listening. I can recommend both formats though!

This collection of poetry was published in 2020, a year after Atwood lost her long-term partner to dementia, and the poems do understandably focus on loss, grief and ageing. However, the poems were written between 2008 and 2019 and so do also have a wider scope of Atwood’s interests and concerns, among them the environment, attitudes to female bodies and the nature of memory.

Although some of the poetry is bleak, it is not without hope and the trademark flashes of dry wit for which Atwood is famous, such as in ‘Everyone Else’s Sex Life’ – and I like to think you can hear this in Atwood’s deadpan, drawling delivery of the poems.

There are some very powerful poems in the collection and I was glad to have had the hardback book to fall back upon to read the lines again and think further about them – I am not sure the audiobook, while slow paced in its narration, really gives readers the time to absorb the poetry. For this reason, I think repeated listening would be necessary.

Particularly poignant for me was the longer poem, ‘Songs for Murdered Sisters’. This was written for the baritone singer Joshua Hopkins ‘in honour of his own murdered sister’ (as we only find out in the acknowledgements at the end of the book). This poem moves – in clearly delineated sections – from the sense of absence and grief through anger to remembrance and acceptance. It’s a striking poem that stood out to me on first listen and one I’ve gone back to.

I can’t even pretend to have absorbed and fully understood all the poetry in this collection yet. I think it is one that I will need to return to many times, yet I can say that I found the first reading very engaging, thought-provoking and moving. I’m not a crier, but definitely had a lump in my throat for some of the poems!

As other reviewers have commented, the narration by Atwood is quite flat and without much emphasis. I don’t see this necessarily as a negative – I have heard Atwood read her work before so kind of expected the monotone delivery. Instead, I think her reading of the poems allows listeners to build their own interpretations of the words – and the poetry is strong enough that it packs a punch even without the narrator giving us clues through the reading.

I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys poetry or who shares Atwood’s concerns – and actually many of the themes are universal. What I would say is that the poetry collection is absolutely 5-star-excellent. However, I’m not wholly convinced that the audiobook is quite the right format for the poetry so I’d recommend it ideally in conjunction with a printed copy – for me, the audiobook is a 4 star presentation of 5 star material.


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‘Frankissstein’ by Jeanette Winterson

The shortlist for the Comedy Women in Print Prize 2020 was recently announced. As humorous books are definitely my thing, I was quite heartened to see many of my own reading choices on there.

With this in mind, I thought it would be timely to revisit some of these funny and joyous novels, starting with ‘Frankissstein’ by Jeanette Winterson.

My Review

I really wasn’t sure what to expect from this and was actually in two minds about requesting it for review – although I like Jeanette Winterson’s writing and am intrigued by Mary Shelley as a writer, I was less sure about the modernisation of ‘Frankenstein’ as a story about artificial intelligence and the future of extending human consciousness after death. I thought it might be a lot about medical morality and a bit unbelievable.

I was wrong to doubt Winterson. She has created a fascinating novel which is actually hard to describe in a way that does it justice. Partly it’s a kind of revisiting of ‘Frankenstein’ in the modern day with a trans doctor grappling with the implications of extending life (in some form, maybe brain activity separate from bodily function) while also encountering advances made in robotics and artificial intelligence. Entertwined with this is the story of Mary Shelley and her life, especially the period in which she was writing the original ‘Frankenstein’ novel.

However, this dual narrative description doesn’t really cover the intricacies of the book where fictional characters start to collide with historical ones, big ideas are explored and the reader is left with plenty of food for thought. What makes this book quite astounding though is the extent of what Winterson has crammed in: Brexit digs, literary references, humour (Ron Lord is grotesquely, hilariously awful), scientific theory, ideas about gender and identity, vivid description and comments on modern society and attitudes to change. I still don’t think I’ve managed to cover everything from this extraordinary book, and I’m also very aware that I’ll continue to make connections and think about this novel long after I have put it down.

I’d recommend this to anyone looking for a thought-provoking read that also manages to be wildly entertaining and full of wry humour. The ideas presented might be big and scary and complex, but the way they are written is just brilliant.

I received a free copy of the novel from NetGalley in return for an honest review.

Header photo with thanks to Laura Chouette for sharing their work on Unsplash.