Context and Names

For what it's worth, this is probably my favorite novel of the class so far. I don't think it's the writing style so much as it's the story and the scenario. It is a fascinating hypothetical.

I think it's interesting to consider the historical context of the publication of this novel. The book was published in 1986, in the heart of the Reagan years. Reagan occasionally had a Thatcher-type influence on American literature and art, and I think the implications of neo-conservatism had an affect on Atwood's thought process. It looks like she may have been most concerned about a return to "traditional" values, i.e. less personal choice, particularly for women. Evangelism was also on the rise in the US. When Offred (I love the "Of-" names) describes Serena Joy as a former Christian TV singer/star, I can't help but think of Tammy Faye Bakker, especially when she describes her ability to "smile and cry at the same time." I have that image of Bakker with mascara streaking down her face attached to Serena Joy. What's strange, though, is just how stoic Serena is. She seems to be in nearly complete control of her emotions if you're willing to ignore her passive aggression, which permeates throughout her entire personality.

I also like the name "Serena Joy," which easily evokes "serene joy." There is a lot of dark sarcasm in this novel, and I think this is one of the best examples. I think the ideal emotional state expected of the women in Gilead is "serene joy," and everyone does their best to portray that. There is a sort of "joy" imposed upon women, the kind of joy that is implicit in the sense that all must be joyous because they are living the righteous life and that you'll be executed if you're not joyous. The "serenity" half enforces a restraint on that joy–a suggestion that while enthusiasm for Gilead is mandatorily encouraged, a show of emotion is unhealthy. But also, the only way women like Offred can show any "joy" for their role in society is by "serenity"–that is to say, by not showing at all how they really feel. I was intrigued by the scene with the Japanese tourists. (I don't know many countries that, in the midst of civil war, encourage tourists, but I'll look past that for now.) When the tourists want to know if the women are happy, I couldn't help but think of a group of American tourists visiting a strict Islamic region of the world and asking the same question. And I wonder if Atwood had the same image in mind. How often do westerners ask themselves how women could be happy in such rigidly dogmatic countries? If we take Atwood's example as authentic, the answer is obvious: no, of course those women aren't happy. The point is that, in many parts of the world, men and women are assigned a different, unequal set of rights, yet women are expected to express the same joy for life that men do. Instead, women are relegated to this "serene joy," the kind of joy that submits to a society's injustice and suppresses true expression and choice.