“How could I have been so ignorant? She thinks. So stupid, so unseeing, so given to carelessness. But without such ignorance, such carelessness, how could we live? If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next – if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions – you’d be doomed. You’d be ruined as God. You’d be stone. You’d never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You’d never love anyone, ever again. You’d never dare too.”

Pick up this book, read the first chapter and try to put it down. This book was hands down one of my favorite reads. It catapaulted itself into my top five. Finishing it was one of the most rewarding experiences I've had with a book!

Blind Assassin tells four stories: of Iris at the end of her life; of Iris and her sister Laura as they come of age and Iris enters a loveless marriage; of a novel called Blind Assassin, about a love affair; and about a story the man in the affair tells the woman. Deftly done. It did take an effort to keep it all straight, and that effort was well worth it.

Some reviewers have characterized Iris the octogenarian as bitter. I saw her rather as wry, as unsentimental in looking back on her life, as hopeful that she might see her granddaughter Sabrina before dying. She also kicked herself for not realizing something about her sister, despite clues, but gave herself a bit of a break, realizing, I think, that we can't help but miss some things as we navigate life's labyrinthine turns.

I didn't love all of The Blind Assassin. Iris's (and Laura's) love interest is not what you'd call a mensch--and I wanted something better for them. The tension of wondering when someone would pay the right kind of attention to Laura was excruciating. I was not a fan of the lurid sci-fi story that the lover spins for Iris, which, thankfully, was just long enough to do its job in the larger narrative.

Among my favorites of the little gems scattered throughout was the bathroom graffiti.

Great story, I loved the bouncing around between novel within novel, with splicing of news clippings in between. Kept me interested until the last page

Who is the blind assassin? I started reading this book out of spite, someone who had recommend it to me no longer recommends anything. We don't talk. I kept reading the book to see who was it who killed everything, killed everyone, making it look like suicide or natural causes? One of the characters from Sakiel-Norn? A science fiction of vengeance given form? No. The Blind assassin is us, we kill ourselves. But that isn't tragic, maybe just a little funny.

I had to sleep on this one before I could rate it. My initial feeling when I finished listening to it on audio was of overwhelming sadness, and I was tempted to rate it more harshly for upsetting me. But it's a well-crafted tale that can affect one emotionally, so I thought it deserved some stepping back to consider. In the end, I concluded that this isn't my favorite Margaret Atwood book, but it is well-crafted.

The Blind Assassin is a story within a story within a story. The inner layer is a science fiction tale about an alien society in its early barbaric days. A young woman whose tongue was cut out and a young man blinded from his days weaving carpets fall in love, and escape their doomed city. The next layer out is two nameless lovers. The man in the pairing is telling the woman the story of the blind assassin. He's a writer who usually churns out cheesy pulp science fiction, but he's also in hiding for being falsely accused of murder. Then the outermost layer is Iris Chase Griffen, a woman in her 80s who's writing her early life story, most of which falls between WWI and WWII. She moves between a present day she hardly recognizes and a past full of pain. She writes about her sister, Laura, who went off a bridge in Iris's car in 1945.

The story is told out of chronological order, interspersed with news articles pertaining to the narrative, though their relation isn't immediately obvious in all cases. The story especially seems to jump around toward the end, until the last of the story is told and it's all tied together.

I was worried the novel would leave me guessing until the very end about some of the hints it kept dropping, but Iris does spell out her secrets she's so reluctant to disclose. There is one question left at the very end, but answering it would've cheapened the narrative. I like the answer I came up with.

The story is frustrating to listen to in places. Iris has so little power, so little freedom, in her marriage to Richard Griffen. He and his sister, Winifred Griffen Prior, are determined to keep Iris helpless and in the dark. Reading (or listening to it on audio) is an exercise in feeling that loneliness, boredom, restlessness. I felt chills when the narrator read me what Iris did to rebel. Good for her!

This is also a story about sisters. Laura and Iris grow up and mature into adult women, but their relationship dynamic remains a constant. Iris remains exasperated with her sister's enigmatic nature, her own responsibility to look after her, while Laura stays a dreamer who sees no differentiation between herself and her big sister. What's Iris's is Laura's, in Laura's eyes, and she assumes Iris feels the same way. The relationship between the sisters was probably the strongest aspect of the book.

There are also literary elements I don't like. Rich people make themselves miserable, cheat on one another, constantly drink alcohol to excess, and fail to talk about important things. Those felt more logical and necessary in this book than in other literary books with the same elements, but they still felt like clichés.

I listened to this book on audio, narrated by Margot Dionne. She has a slight accent I couldn't place, but that she plays up for certain characters to set their dialogue apart in the narrative. She speaks very crisply and distinctly, with no change in volume or modulation. I didn't have to keep adjusting my volume to hear murmurs or whispers, only to turn it back down when people shouted. I listened to a fair chunk of the audio book while I was walking, and it certainly made the time pass.

Margaret Atwood has a grounding in poetry, though, so she chooses her words carefully, selecting a lyrical presentation whenever possible. Even the less pleasant sections of the narrative are pretty to listen to.

If, like me, you've had this book recommended from dozens of sources, I highly recommend giving the audio edition a listen. The lyricism of the words really comes to life when spoken aloud.

Like most "sprawling epics", this book starts very slow, very aloof. It's hard to get a handle on the plot and characters early on. When you do get a handle, both seem pulpy, bordering on trite. But slowly things acquire depth, forcing you to reconsider a lot of what you've already read. Ultimately a great read, on par with something like Love in the Time of Cholera.

I wanted to like this book...I really did. There are other more eloquent reviews of it that say it all. Suffice it to say that I waited and waited to start to feel engaged with the characters or the plot and that moment never came. The pace is incredibly slow. It could have been 200-300 pages shorter and still done this story justice. I waited for the "big moment" at the end that was supposed to bring payoff for putting myself through this slog and found it to be disappointing. Conceptually, I understand what Atwood was trying to attempt. But in practice it was a boring read. 2 stars only because there were some passages of beautiful language interspersed. Hovering close to a one star for me.

It’s a Frankenstein of a book - historical fiction, love story, with a sci-fi novel thrown into the mix. Then it all gets tied together in the end - very satisfying.
Would make an excellent TV series, along the lines of “This Is Us” with its jumps in timeline and “Six Feet Under” with its use of obituaries. I love Margaret Atwood’s writing style and her voice.