Thanks God there are still books that can surprise one. And surprise is maybe too weak an expression. I’m talking about being flabbergasted at least a couple of times while reading the first novel of Margaret Atwood. She wrote “The Edible Woman” being only my age (that is almost 23…), which is even more upsetting when one compares own achievements with this bestseller. However, it was not at all that easy for Atwood to get it published, for her publisher.. lost the typescript and wouldn’t admit it before Atwood had built up the reputation of a promising writer. So it took a couple of years for it to be open for the public.
While reading I had the impression I felt this youth – lots of vivid description and colloquial language and very lively heroes. Well, at least the “positive” ones. The stark contrast between the healthy and quite normal Marian and overintellectualized, emaciated Duncan. The last one turning out to be a kind of saviour for Marian, saving her from getting married and settling down and living a life most of us would consider happy or at least descent.
Marian’s organism rebells (against womens’ position in the society?/the power of males?). She eventually manages to overcome her problems with eating (she would get more and more paranoic about food that could or would or was once alive) and bakes a cake, which she then forms into a shape of a woman. It’s her alter ego – the cake. Which she serves her would-be husband (a good way to get rid of him for good apparently) and consequently consumes herself, with the rest of it left for Duncan.
Did she manage to eat and thus free herself from her obsessions, complexes and anxiety? Apparently she did. Well, it’s good to know that such unconventional solutions can help. Plus in case of a crisis, they are always there in the kitchen.
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