Ratings113
Average rating4
“Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge.” Iris Chase Griffen, married at eighteen to a wealthy industrialist but now poor and eighty-two, recalls her far from exemplary life, and the events leading up to her sister’s death, gradually revealing the carefully guarded Chase family secrets. Among these is a novel that earned the dead Laura Chase not only notoriety but also a devoted cult following. Sexually explicit for its time, The Blind Assassin describes a risky affair in the turbulent thirties between a wealthy young woman and a man on the run. During their secret meetings in rented rooms, the lovers concoct a pulp fantasy set on a distant planet. As the invented story twists through love and sacrifice and betrayal, so does the real one; while events in both move closer to war and catastrophe. By turns lyrical, outrageous, formidable, compelling and funny, this is a novel filled with deep humour and dark drama that comes together in a brilliant and astonishing final twist.
Reviews with the most likes.
Very atmospheric and moody, but a bit slow, and I was distracted a lot at work while audiobooking, so: grain of salt.
Might be part of an unintentional trilogy with House of the Spirits and another book that I knew I'd forget if I didn't write down...and did, cause I didn't.
A modern classic. One of the best novels I've read in recent memory. Interesting characters, a bit of mystery, and Atwood's pristine prose are enough to carry a book with minimal plot.
I've started and stopped this book a number of times before finally following through. I don't know whether it is particularly complex, or if it is just hard for me to follow the sci-fi subplot, or if I am just dumb. But now that I've finished it I really really liked it, and Atwood is a master of prose, etc.
“Was this a betrayal, or was it an act of courage? Perhaps both. Neither one involves forethought: such things take place in an instant, in an eyeblink. This can only be because they have been rehearsed by us already, over and over, in silence and darkness; in such silence, such darkness, that we are ignorant of them ourselves. Blind but sure-footed, we step forward as if into a remembered dance.”