There are few reading pleasures more delightful than the feeling of instant rapport a narrative voice can conjure, an intimacy that quickly becomes immersive as you are drawn into a confidence both close and resonant. In Cat’s Eye, the voice belongs to Elaine Risley, a painter who has come back to her native Toronto for a retrospective exhibition of her art. On that return from a self-imposed and apparently necessary exile, she is tempted—with the inevitability that makes all real temptation worthy of the name—to unlayer her past: lost time, lost friends, lost luck, lost meaning. Elaine’s recollections of her teenaged friendship with Cordelia are imbued with longing and an ominous undertone of elegy, for it is their relationship that introduces Elaine to the confusions of loyalty and love, the effects of cruelty and betrayal, and the contradictory repercussions of liberty. Atwood is just as sensitive insinuating all the aches of adulthood and the pains of love, the fleeting truths of creativity and the hard consequences of big ambitions not quite big enough.
Due to its popularity as a Netflix series, people now assume that the best thing that Atwood wrote was The Handmaid's Tale. They're wrong. I read Cats Eye long before I read Handmaid's Tale, and it rocked my world, as all of Atwoods works have.
One of my favourite Atwood's, even though it's an earlier one. I've read this at least twice and will probably read it at least once more before I die!
We use cookies to recognize you when you return to this website so you do not have to log in again. By continuing to use this site, you are giving us your consent to do this. You can read more about our practices and your choices here.