The aptly-named Bodily Harm by Margaret Atwood is a suspensfully-woven tale that keeps you turning pages. Focused on the harms that can befall a woman, it takes a philosophical look at both the physical and emotional dangers Rennie Wilford faces as she comes to terms with a major life change.
After her mastectomy, journalist Rennie Wilford and her boyfriend break up and she begins a strange affair with her doctor, who makes her feel almost complete. However, when Rennie returns to her apartment one day to find a length of coiled rope on her bed and no sign of forced entry, she is convinced that it would be a good idea to take a long vacation and get out of town for a while.
Under these circumstances, Rennie ends up on the island of St. Antoine in the Caribbean during a time of political upheaval. There she finds herself being drawn into a complex and dangerous world she doesn't understand.
A recurring image of Rennie's grandmother, who has misplaced her hands, seems to serve as a grand metaphor for the story. A particular event between a very young Rennie and her grandmother is hauntingly told by Atwood:
My hands, she said. I've left them somewhere and now I can't find them. She was holding her hands in the air helplessly, as if she couldn't move them.
Thery're right there. I said. On the ends of your arms.
No, no, she said impatiently. Not those, those are no good any more. My other hands, the ones I had before, the ones I touch things with.
It seems like throughout the process and aftermath of her mastectomy, Rennie won't let people get close to her or touch her. This leads to her breakup with her boyfriend. She has forgotten how to reach outside of herself. Wrapped up in her own misery, she is self-focused, and it is only as she is drawn into the events in St. Antoine that she really gets past her physical change and grows to understand what it means to be a truly complete woman.
Atwood is always very good at making even banal surroundings seem sinister, and the events surrounding Rennie in St. Antoine are written to keep you on the edge of your seat. Trust no one, for they are not who they seem. But trust Atwood to give you a good excuse to sit home on a Friday night.
