I finished my first Margaret Atwood book today, which I mention because I'm shocked that it's taken me 20 years to be inducted into this not-very-elite group. The Handmaid's Tale was Orwellian enough, I suppose, though the repeated references to "purple overalls" has the effect of an MADE IN THE 80s sign on it. (Did they have purple overalls in the 80s? I hope so, otherwise I'm just backing up the sorry truth that I only became socially conscious circa 1995.) I am, for some reason, comforted that science fiction, of a sort, can still be regaled as Canadian literature; as much as I enjoy sixth-grade adventures featuring intrepid European boys in the hinterland and soul-searching recantations of Canada's racist past, the warped and the wacky still hold sway over my heart. No, really -- my mother's side sucks when it comes to heart disease.
And now for something completely different! Being unemployed, I caught myself wondering what my answer would be if someone -- well, anyone with the right to -- asked me what I thought my greatest weakness was. My first, instinctive thought was, I'm not religious. I'm probably flinging myself into a minefield here, aren't I? I really wanted to stick in a witty quip somehow linking spirituality and Eliza Dushku, but so sorry, Buffy fans -- it's been a long day.
And now for something completely different! Being unemployed, I caught myself wondering what my answer would be if someone -- well, anyone with the right to -- asked me what I thought my greatest weakness was. My first, instinctive thought was, I'm not religious. I'm probably flinging myself into a minefield here, aren't I? I really wanted to stick in a witty quip somehow linking spirituality and Eliza Dushku, but so sorry, Buffy fans -- it's been a long day.
