ATWOOD'S WARNING
If you read one of Ian Rankin's most famous series of novels what does Rebus look like in your head? Chances are, if you've watched many of the TV programmes, it's Ken Stott's face that you see chasing Edinburgh's criminals. Fair enough, for Rankin doesn't provide many clues to the inspector's physical appearance. Except that he's at least six or more inches taller than the actor who's become so synonymous with the role. But overcoming the visual image from screen is, for most of us, hard to do.
It's the same with Wallander books, although there it depends if you're a fan of Sweden's Henriksson or Ireland's Branagh (I'm in the Krister camp). And if you read any Sherlock Holmes tales the choice of screen faces you can 'use' is near endless (Jeremy Brett for me). My point being that for most of us the visual image is hard to overcome, no matter what the page says, no matter that the written character is usually the original.
I've just finished rereading Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale after a gap of more than twenty years. Maybe even thirty. But in recent years I've watched the three TV series based on and derived from the book, the fictional Gilead turned into images that had existed only in my imagination before. I was prompted to return to the original text because I'm now reading Atwood's long awaited follow-up, The Testaments, and it seemed sensible to re-immerse myself in that world, one that inevitably had some differences from the one I'd seen more recently.
In fact the differences aren't all that great, the first TV series staying fairly faithful to the original storyline and the culture it described. The most striking exceptions being, you've guessed it, the descriptions of the characters versus their appearance on the screen. Top of that list being Fred and Serena Joy who are far from the beautiful people we saw in Fiennes and Strahovski. These things matter when they can affect the dynamics of the relationships being portrayed.
I got through the book in a couple of days. Still as riveting, thought provoking and frightening as it was. No, make that more frightening, for this is 2020. Reading that book now is a different experience from my first experience of it those decades ago. For three main reasons.
One I've already mentioned. Being faithful to the author meant trying to ditch the TV faces, forming my own pictures of the protagonists.
And I was back into a familiar world, with no need to try and begin understanding the Gileadian societal roles and hierarchy. That first reading has always retained a powerful impact, back up by the Elisabeth Moss shows, so there was no need to puzzle over the Handmaids and Marthas and Aunts and Wives and Commanders and Guardians and Eyes and all the other narrowly defined constrictions of that brutalised country. Although it was interesting to be reminded of how fundamentally racist the author's Gilead is, something there's less stress on in the TV series, where it's the patriarchal and fascistic elements that dominate.
Finally, the times we live in. Tomorrow, and perhaps in the next couple of months, we'll all be watching to see how robust US democracy is. Have enough Americans recognised what a monster they have in the White House? Aren't the totalitarian instincts of the orange manbaby clear enough? One of the clear lessons of Atwood's theocracy is how easy it is for democracy to slip away, bit by bit, until finally it's no longer there. I'm voraciously consuming The Testaments now and it clearly shows how people can be manipulated into supporting the new regime. Succumbing to fascism is a banal process, and many of the most brutal functionaries of the regime are not the ideologues, but the conscientious citizens who think that doing their 'duty' to their country overrides any moral qualms (a theme portrayed even more powerfully in the newer book). Trump's America is already a far more racist and misogynistic place than it was four years ago. Where would another four years of the same take them to? The steps to Gilead are there to see.
And in the UK? Ever since we were forced to swallow The Fairytale of Barnard Castle it's clear there's some kind of hard right coup in process. If even the suggestion of someone like Dacre at Ofcom doesn't ring your alarm bells then maybe you're not paying enough attention. It won't get too serious with Doris, who's only concerned about himself and already looks like he's had enough of a game he's found he's not very good at. But the possibility of bespectacled slug Gove taking over is a more alarming direction of travel. And yet another reason why Scotland needs out of this broken state asap.
Footnote - The dominant aspect of Gilead is the patriarchy, the total subjugation of women. So I wanted to make sure I put women first in this post. With one exception. I wrote 'Fred and Serena Joy', not the other way round. Why? Because when I say it in my head it simply sounds better, rolls out more naturally. In the same way that 'Diane and Bartholomew' works best. And that matters too. Gilead suppresses almost all forms of art, knowing that art is the enemy of tyranny. So I'll stick with putting Fred first on this occasion, because art should always trump (sorry...) ideology. Art reaches the humanity in us, it's about thinking for ourselves, about sharing, about imagination. Art is the anti-Gilead.
Please, please, please let it be Biden....
