“I was big on grit,” she says in an interview* where she describes finding old pages of writing from her childhood and teenagehood. She wrote a novel about an ant, still unfinished. And there were musings on the Hungarian Revolution and despair.
“I had an eye for lawn-litter and dog turds on the sidewalk. In these stories it was usually snowing damply, or raining; at the very least there was slush. If it was summer, the heat and humidity were always wiltingly high and my characters had sweat marks under their arms; if it was spring, wet clay stuck to their feet.”
And this is evident, even still, in “Death by Clamshell” which is presented as the words of Hypatia of Alexandria.
“Many in your world have the idea that there has been progress since my day, that people have become more humane, that atrocities were rife back then but have diminished in your era, though I don’t know how anyone who has been paying attention can hold such a view.”

Women were expected to clean-up after clay-soiled feet and zip-up complaints:
“A wife should keep it zipped and do the cleaning up of any messes that might prove troublesome. So on the home front lips were pressed together, topics were avoided. “Did you hear about the murder of our respected and beloved wise woman, astronomer, philosopher, jewel of Alexandria, and adviser to the Prefect? This sentence was not spoken.”
MARM 2025 PLANS
Launch (November 1)
Old Babes in the Wood, “Death by Clamshell” (November 4)
The Blind Assassin Parts I-IV (November 6)
Week Two: Update and Check-In (November 8)
Old Babes in the Wood, “Freeforall” (November 11)
The Blind Assassin Parts V-VI (November 13)
Week Three: Update and Check-In (November 15)
Margaret Atwood’s 86th Birthday (November 18)
Old Babes in the Wood, “Metepsychosis” (November 18)
The Blind Assassin Parts VII-IX (November 20)
Week Four: Update and Check-In (November 22)
Old Babes in the Wood, “Airborne: A Symposium” (November 25)
The Blind Assassin Parts X-XV (November 27)
Wrap-Up (November 30)
But there is a streak of humour throughout, too. This bit startled me into laughter:
“Aphrodite was said to have been born from a bivalve of some kind. Two shells that open, revealing a pulpy, salty, but tasty interior. Make what you wish of that.”
Early in her career, back when her poetry collections outnumbered her novels, Graeme Gibson** (in 1972—two years after they’d met, a year before they’d move in together, following Atwood’s divorce from James Polk) asked about the particular problems confronting women writers.
Writing is viewed as a “really male thing to be doing” she replies. “And if you’re a woman doing it, that really threatens” considering [male writers] have “gone to all this trouble to tell anybody who sort of scorns their activity that what they’re doing is really very hairy-chested.”
A little less so in Canada, she says, than America. “What you get instead is the other side of the coin. If people can’t say you have a water-color feminine sensibility, they’ll say something like she thinks like a man. […] They feel that they have to make you an honorary male if they’re going to say you’re good.”
Gibson asks how women’s responses differ. “Back in the days when you were supposed to pay attention to the diapers and the washing of dishes (note, more grit!), I was a threat to other women’s life positions. Now [with “Women’s Lib”] I get made into a kind of hero, which is just as unreal. It makes me just as uncomfortable. It’s turning me from what I am as a writer into something I’m not.”
All these years later, imagined-Hypatia tells her own side of the story, with a particularly acute and astute final statement that directly confronts cultural assumptions about women which continue to shape opportunities and restrict freedoms around the globe.
*Janet Sternberg The Writer on Her work, Volume II (1991)
**Graeme Gibson Eleven Canadian Novelists (1973)
Margaret Atwood
“Here’s a piece of literature by me, suitable for seventeen-year-olds in Alberta schools, unlike — we are told — The Handmaid’s Tale. (Sorry, kids; your Minister of Education thinks you are stupid babies.)” August 31, 2025
I’m thinking about ““I was big on grit,””. What exactly did she mean by “grit”? When I say I like “gritty” writing or movies, I mean those that face uncomfortable or unpleasant things, those that aren’t cheery about life. (They may or may not have hope at the end). I sense from a couple of things you’ve said here that she’s meaning something different?
And, I agree with your response to Bill. I’m not sure I understood what he (you, Bill) meant? I think Atwood means that it was (is) an acceptable occupation for men to write, and to write seriously. This doesn’t mean that women can’t or don’t write, but it is more difficult for them practically, and what they do/write is scrutinised is a different way. What did I read about Teffi recently? That it was believed women couldn’t be funny? So many assumptions and expectations put on women’s writing.
I feel (felt, as soon as I’d pressed Enter on my initial response) really uncomfortable taking a side in an argument about women writers. Do you remember a while ago a book (by an ABC woman maybe) about all writers needing a wife. That is quite obviously true, and far more difficult for women to achieve than men. I am currently reading Modjeska’s “Stravinsky’s Lunch” which is precisely about that (Stravinsky insisted that his wife and children not talk at the dinner table because the great man needed to maintain his thought processes).
But. I still believe there are and have always been as many women writers as men; that the problem is that men dominated the discussion about books; and that women today at least can get around that by searching out “lost” women; as indeed you, WG, do.
I think this bit about women writers needing a wife was also part of a discussion that included Modjeska and Penelope Lively.
Last week, when you mentioned your Gen 0 project, I pulled Dale Spender (MotN) off the shelf to be reminded of some key names and dates, and the introduction there fits this discussion rather well. But, of course, where doesn’t Dale Spender have expertise to offer? 🙂 It occurred to me that I should flag some passages, but instead I made a reading list. hee hee
It seems to me that one of the meanings is just what you’ve described, as well as the more literal meaning (e.g. sweat-stains) she outlines. What is that famous Collete quote about writing…to look harder at what pains you than what pleases you.
That charge about being humourless has been levied at Indigenous writers too; Drew Hayden Taylor published a collection called Me Funny to refute the claim.
LOLLLL to the quote you included at the end!!!! I was so ashamed to be living in Alberta during that time. I can tell you it was a dark day at the Library, that’s for sure.
Anne!!! I was thinking you had missed this little gem, although I know you are the biggest flip-box fan, and it was awfully convenient to have MA comment on your home province’s shenanigans just before MARM this year. /sigh
This worked for me on so many levels!!! Thanks for including it 🙂
Love the quote of the week!
Good one, eh?
I still haven’t read this collection (my Middle Child said there might be something a bit triggering for me at the moment) – but you make me want to…
There is a thread of sorrow throughout the collection, being that the stories were written while GG was coping with dementia…and the media coverage has spoiled the fact that Tig (of Nell and Tig, in her linked stories about the couple) has passed by the end of the collection (as did GG) although his death isn’t depicted. But I find her way of confronting loss and grief is the kind of balanced approach to life that I need (and try to cultivate in myself): healing (of a sort) rather than triggering. And her observations on ageing as a woman? Spot on, good company! YMMV!
You’ve really brought this story back to me! The contextual information is fascinating too.
I couldn’t remember if you’d read the whole collection or selections: I hope the other posts refresh the other stories just as clearly for you.
I have never understood the remark ‘writing is regarded as a male thing’. I can’t see a time – back to Jane Austen – when there were more men writers than women. I’m not even sure women adopted male names to get published, and suspect it was more likely for anonymity. I can see there was a (long) time when men were regarded as serious and women as romantic, and that seems to me to get down to universities up until the 1960s being mostly staffed by men (and Atwood went to uni at the end of that period, pre-Women’s Lib).
Do you mean that you don’t understand it because it seems ridiculous or because it’s an observation that you don’t believe is grounded in reality?
I don’t think women writers being traditionally devalued (neglected, overlooked, dismissed, choose whichever word) is a matter of numbers but a matter of presumed quality. But, even so, a quick scan of the TOC of any literature textbook of that era (and for some years afterwards) shows women writers/poets/dramatists far outnumbered by men. When I first started submitting work for publication, I used my initials or my middle name (which happens to be a boy’s name), unless the market was a feminist magazine; it could be that the staff included women, but the editors were all men at tha time.
Yes, I accept that women writers were dismissed as lesser. But they must have sold, they kept getting published.
I’d like to see data (but I suppose that’s unlikely, even contemporary stat’s like that are expensive to gather and interpret). And we would have to weigh out the thorny question of what was published versus what has endured. #ItsComplicated
I love all the extra remarks and comments that you found for this story. Naturally I had to do some Hypatia-related research to approach this story 🙂
(My review will be posted tomorrow.)
I’ve had fun thinking about patterns that she observed about her own writing, decades ago, and observing how some of those characteristics remain easy to see.
Ohhhh, I’m looking forward to your research-soaked post: yay!