Cover to Cover: The Robber Bride

Atwood's women characters are more than sweetness and light.

Sugar, spice, and everything nice. If this is the time-honored recipe for little girls, what is the recipe for grown women? Stories don't suggest ingredients, but they often present two outcomes—the beautiful princess with a heart of gold or the evil, ugly crone. While these archetypes have their place in literature, they obviously can't reflect the complexity of real people and, more particularly, the intricate relationships between women. Few authors bring these neglected themes to the page better than Margaret Atwood, whose female characters are made of equal parts bitter and sour to blend with the sweet.

I recently read Atwood's The Robber Bride (Doubleday, 1993), which deliciously balances friendship and betrayal within a group of women. Three friends, whose husbands and lovers have been seduced by the same woman named Zenia, meet every month for lunch—both for the company and to support each other as they move on with their lives. During one such meeting, Zenia, thought to be dead, walks into the restaurant more alive and more beautiful than ever. The revelation shocks the three friends, and the novel takes us back through each of the women's histories as they try to make sense of their relationships with their lovers, families, Zenia, and each other.

Even though Zenia is obviously the wicked witch in this story, none of the three heroines is a perfect princess. No one knows this better than they do. Although they appreciate each other and fill a needed space in each other's lives, they still grate on each other's nerves. They don't even like themselves some of the time. What they don't say to each other is just as weighty as what they do say, maybe more so. While they share their heartbreaks and biggest fears, the little things they keep to themselves create tension. Two friends don't like it when the third spaces out over lunch, but they never tell her in so many words. One friend secretly rues enlisting the interior decorating passions of another. Another wants to replant her friend's garden but is too shy to ask again. Atwood laces each chapter with these little cracks in their trust, but even the subtle examples reveal so much about the characters and the ultimate strength of their friendship despite these fractures.

Each relationship is finely balanced so that the friends keep each other at bay while still being intimately connected. They try not to step on each other's toes, but are careful that they don't get stepped on either. Atwood does all of this consistently but lightly, and the lightness is what makes the relationships plausible. So much of the communication results from minute, almost involuntary, calculations of words, gestures, and silences—calculations any reader who has ever wondered "Is it me, or is she giving me a look?" will recognize as authentic.

These nuances help unlock the mysteries of each of the three friends' lives, which keeps eager readers like me turning pages. Unfortunately, like other Atwood novels, the ending comes abruptly and half formed, as if the author just ran out of paper (the last chapter even says, "Every ending is arbitrary, because the end is where you write The end."). But I don't regret the time I spent with her characters, who are so richly developed. With Atwood's novels, her delightful and compelling beginnings coupled with strong, intriguing characters usually make the journey worthwhile.

The Robber Bride: ****