The Future

I’m not generally a huge fan of Margaret Atwood but she is a fine, sometimes startlingly good writer. I’m reading Moral Disorder (very slowly – something embarrassing like a chapter a day) and was thrilled with this:

Poor Drumlin used to prowl the house at night, yowling in an unearthly fashion. Nothing gave her solace: she was looking for something she’d lost, though she didn’t know what it was. (Her mind, in point of fact, if cats can be said to have minds.) In the mornings we’d find small bites taken out of tomatoes, of pears: she’d forgotten she was a carnivore, she’d forgotten what it was she was supposed to eat. This has become my picture of my future self: wandering the house in the darkness, in my white nightdress, howling for what I can’t quite remember I’ve lost. It’s unbearable. I wake up in the night and reach out to make sure Tig is still there, still breathing. So far, so good.

One Comment to “The Future”

  1. I love **ORYX AND CRAKE** madly–consider it on the level of 1984 or BRAVE NEW WORLD in its futurism-brilliance!!!

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