Engendering Genre: The Works of Margaret Atwood

3: “Untold Stories, Fresh Beginnings” Atwood’s Short Stories

A repertoire / of untold stories, / a fresh beginning Margaret Atwood, “The Paper Bag,” 1991 C onsidering earlier criticism of Margaret Atwood’s short fiction, one becomes aware of a seeming critical paradox: Atwood is a major figure on the contemporary literary scene, and she is the figurehead of Canadian literature. The short story, in turn, has been hailed as “the most active ambassador of Canadian literature abroad” (Bonheim 1980–81, 659), a statement that could be applied with similar justification to Atwood. Her short stories, however, have long been passed over in survey works on her writing, have been treated as mere preparatory exercises, or simply have been seen as less important than her novels and poetry collections.2 There is indeed always the danger that one branch of a multitalented author’s work will languish in relative critical neglect—a particularly relevant danger in the case of a prolific writer such as Atwood, who is, in addition, a renowned literary critic (see chapter 6) as well as a highly sought-after media personality (see chapter 8). There is also the barrier of an implied generic hierarchy, which, at least in the minds of general readers, still gives precedence by and large to the novel over other forms of literary expression. Seen from this perspective, the critical fate of Atwood’s short fiction for some two decades reflects that of the reception of the genre as a whole. 3 “Untold Stories, Fresh Beginnings” Atwood’s Short Stories 72 EngEndEring gEnrE: ThE Works of MargarET aTWood The decade leading to the turn of the century, however, also saw a change in the reception of Atwood’s short fictional prose, with several contributions that either exclusively or in combination with other genres finally directed attention to her short stories.3 Since Wilderness Tips (1991), Atwood’s third collection of short stories, the kind of attention given to her short stories has been close to that lavished on her novels— see, for instance, the immediate and highly positive reviews of her latest short-story collection Moral Disorder.4 It is true that Atwood has published less in this genre (so far four short-story collections) compared with her productivity in the novel or even poetry (twelve novels and twelve collections of poetry, not counting four volumes of “selected” poetry), and that there have been—for her standards—relatively long intervals between the publication of her short-story collections: Dancing Girls (1977), Bluebeard’s Egg (1983), Wilderness Tips (1991), and Moral Disorder (2006). The fifteen years between her acclaimed Wilderness Tips and Moral Disorder may also be explained by her venturing out into new generic territories of short fiction and prose poetry with Murder in the Dark (1983), Good Bones (1992), and The Tent (2006) (see chapter 2), only to see her return triumphantly to the short-story genre with another generic debut in her oeuvre, the short-story cycle Moral Disorder. From the perspective of teaching, Atwood’s short stories have always been a favourite that could perhaps even rival her novels. And, indeed, her short stories alone would suffice to place her in the forefront of twentieth- (and twenty-first-) century writers. Although there are discernible currents and even cross-references linking Atwood’s short stories to her poetry and novels,5 her work in the genre is as free of derivativeness as it is varied. This chapter traces some of this work’s main themes, techniques, and lines of development, taking the prominent theme of gender relations in Atwood’s short stories as its cue. DANCING GIRLS Atwood’s exceptional thematic and structural variety is already evident in her debut short-story collection, Dancing Girls (1977), the individual stories of which were first published between 1964 and 1977. In looking “Untold stories, fresh Beginnings” 73 for a common denominator to link these stories, a statement from Atwood’s poetry springs to mind: “This is not a debate/but a duet/with two deaf singers”6 —for these early stories often portray individuals in unfulfilling, dysfunctional, or disintegrating relationships: This is an interval, a truce; it can’t last, we both know it, there have been too many differences, of opinion we called it but it was more than that, the things that mean safety for him mean danger for me. We’ve talked too much or not enough: for what we have to say to each other there’s...