Book review- My Evil Mother by Margaret Atwood

 

“My mother had a thing for blue in tableware; she said it warded off any evil eyes intent on ruining the food.”

A recent, sudden trip led me to search for a to-do list, which led me to this short read, literally just a 30-minute read, with an interesting title, “My Evil Mother” by Margaret Atwood.

This is a witty and heartwarming short story about the complex, often misunderstood relationship between a mother and daughter.

Life is already hard for a teenage girl in 1950s suburban Toronto. It is even harder when she suspects that her mother might—or might not—be a witch. A single mother, at that. On the surface, she blends in with her starched dresses, string of pearls, and floral aprons. But there are also the quiet, mystical meetings with troubled neighbourhood women. The odd, suspicious plants in the flower beds. The warning, supposedly divined, is to stay away from a boyfriend whose fate is doomed.

This is a surprisingly tender story about growing up and about the gap between generations. The story is told with humour and a sharp eye for the way teenagers actually talk and think.

In the later part of the story, the narrator matures and begins to uncover the truth behind her mother’s actions. In just a few pages, Atwood convincingly shows her journey from a rebellious daughter to a mother herself. By the end, her relationship with her own mother—now a grandmother—softens and changes in a moving way. The story circles back to an earlier line: Who says you need eyes to see?

“They may not like me, but they respect me. Respect is better than like.”