The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

This book had been on my TBR for a few months, and I finally got the chance to read it over winter break. It completely consumed me—I became deeply absorbed in the story, which was both thrilling and a little unsettling. The dystopian worldbuilding and Offred’s characterization were incredibly detailed, which only added to the tension and left me distraught at some points in the book. I have so many thoughts about this book, but I’ve chosen to focus on a few key points that stood out to me.

The dystopian world of Gilead that Atwood creates, like much of the dystopian fiction I’ve been reading, is strikingly reminiscent of our own society. It consistently holds up a mirror to the United States as it exists today. Atwood’s writing is highly intentional: every word carries meaning, and every character’s motivation is driven by a clear desire. I also appreciated that not everything is spelled out; you must actively engage with the text and draw your own conclusions. In contrast, some other dystopian novels I’ve read present everything too plainly.

What struck me most was my fascination with Serena Joy. As the Commander’s Wife, Serena is deeply invested in the traditional values Gilead imposes on women of high-ranking families: remain silent, serve one’s husband, and produce a child, but not on her own, of course, instead through a Handmaid. Serena loathes the system that she and her husband helped create, which naturally drew my sympathy. She was a talented singer before Gilead, but later became a spokesperson for traditional values.

“...[Women] will gladly take positions of power over other women, even—and, possibly, especially—in systems in which women as a whole have scant power: all power is relative, and in tough times, any amount is seen as better than none.”

Offred says “[Serena] doesn’t make speeches anymore. She has become speechless. She stays in her home, but it doesn’t seem to agree with her. How furious she must be, now that she’s been taken at her word.” This made me think about conservative women today, such as “trad wife” content creators. Like Serena, they promote staying at home, having children, and dedicating their lives to raising them—essentially fulfilling what they see as their biological mission. Yet many of these same women work, create content, and profit from sponsorships and brand deals, all while preaching against other women to do the same. Hypocrisy at its finest. 

What makes Serena so compelling is that she can evoke sympathy, yet in an instant, that sympathy disappears when she directs her anger, born from the pressure to have a child, which she cannot fulfill, her “one biological purpose,” toward Offred. Part of me feels sorry for her, as she is also trapped in a world she did not expect would strip her of her rights. But this is also what she wanted, and in order to have some sense of control or power, she must inflict pain on another woman, remaining complicit, a theme in the book that I find particularly interesting.

Like the Handmaids, Serena is forbidden from reading or writing and has no real power over her husband; the only difference is that she is not subjected to the monthly ritualized rape. Yet, she is complicit. She is present during The Ceremony, essentially holding down Offred while the Commander rapes her, all in the hope that Offred will become pregnant with a child that Serena will then take and raise as her own. During the Ceremony, Offred observes that “Serena has begun to cry…She always does this, the night of the Ceremony. She’s trying not to make a noise. She’s trying to preserve her dignity, in front of us.” This shows that even though Serena helped shape Gilead’s policies, she still unravels each time she participates in the ritual designed to sustain their society. She frames it as a necessary sacrifice, a mask for her complicity. While the Handmaids bear the brunt of life as, essentially, sex slaves, Serena and the other Wives endure their own forms of oppression.

Another quote I found interesting comes after the Ceremony, when Serena yells at Offred to leave her room. Offred recounts: “Before I turn away I see her straighten her blue skirt, clench her legs together; she continues lying on the bed, gazing up at the canopy above her, stiff and straight as an effigy. Which of us is it worse for, her or me?” This moment really highlights Serena’s narcissism—her inability to empathize or see beyond herself. She is humiliated by the Ceremony, a ritual she helped create, yet she clings to it to feel even a small measure of power. The humiliation she experiences is largely of her own making, but she cannot acknowledge that, so she instead blames Offred, who, of course, has no control over the situation. It's a striking example of her blaming another woman for problems she herself helped create.

This illustrates just how far Serena will go to get what she wants. Serena and the Wives of Gilead rely on oppressing the Handmaids, Marthas, and Unwomen to achieve their goals, and this dynamic is part of what makes Gilead so “successful.”

In the introduction, Atwood writes, “...[Women] will gladly take positions of power over other women, even—and, possibly, especially—in systems in which women as a whole have scant power: all power is relative, and in tough times, any amount is seen as better than none.” This followed me throughout my reading in regard to Serena and Offred’s relationship. It’s a push pull scenario, where you think they can come together on the common ground that they are both women oppressed in a totalitarian society, but that isn’t the case, like I mentioned. When you think that they come to an understanding, it is ripped away by the selfish behavior of Serena. For example, when Serena orchestrates Offred’s encounter with Nick, the driver, because she believes the Commander is sterile, which oh, by the way, that word is illegal in Gilead; it’s automatically assumed that if a couple can’t conceive, it’s the woman’s fault. 

Serena frames this illegal copulation with Nick as a way of sparing Offred from “sleeping” with the Commander—a twisted attempt at generosity. Yet, when there's an ounce of push back, Serena offers to show Offred a picture of her kidnapped daughter if she complies, revealing that Serena has always known the child’s whereabouts, waiting for the perfect moment to use it as a tool for coercion. Not only does she cruelly withhold this knowledge, but she also exploits Offred’s loss to try to secure a child for herself. This illustrates just how far Serena will go to get what she wants. Serena and the Wives of Gilead rely on oppressing the Handmaids, Marthas, and Unwomen to achieve their goals, and this dynamic is part of what makes Gilead so “successful.”

I have to hate Serena, even though I appreciate the complexity of her character—I just can’t get behind her. I want to shake her and say, Girl, wake up. She is cruel, selfish, and narcissistic, yet what fascinates me is that you can occasionally see glimmers of rebellion in her, like she knows what she is doing is wrong, for her and for Offred. Still, she’ll never truly change her traditional mindset; she’s just too far gone, like so many women today. She’s stuck in the mindset that women are the ones at fault, remains complicit, and continues to perpetuate a world where men are never held accountable.