Senior Portfolio Seminar

After reading the titular story, I think it’s safe to assume that some element of feminism is present and important in this collection. A lot of it is ridiculous and farcical — the three old women plotting against another man and Verna murdering men with the help of Viagra — but “Stone Mattress” was the story I had some difficulty reading. We begin with a somewhat bitter, aging woman. She knows that she’s getting older, but she seems to enjoy her newfound confidence and her silvery-blonde hair. She seems just fine with her age. Her mother is described as a “grim-faced,” emotionally unavailable woman, but it’s her reaction to Verna’s horrific and traumatic experience that is particularly painful. Because Verna is looking back on this experience years later, and we as the reader know that she’s turned out ok (can you call a murderer ok?), the story is easier to take in. I’m not sure I would’ve wanted to read it without the ridiculousness, without her previous marriages and murders. Atwood has carefully orchestrated this story — in what world does a physiotherapist marry her patients only to have them or help them die of exactly the ailment for which they’re being treated?

The stromatolite, the ancient fossil used to kill Bob, lends itself to the theme of aging — or the rejection of aging — in these stories. Dinosaurs are old, fossils are old, and many of Atwood’s characters are also old. Which leads me to the final story: “Torching the Dusties.” This story was equally difficult to read. She captures the atmosphere of Wilma’s nursing home with a terrifying clarity. On page 246 she writes, “If you look demented they’re more likely to treat you as if you really are. So better to avoid the lipstick.” If you’ve ever been in a nursing home or an assisted living center, there are too many elderly women with dark eyeshadow, bright red or pink lipstick, and a bad brown dye job. This story makes me afraid to age. (I also have to note that the first time my dad told me of my grandmother’s macular degeneration, I truly thought he’d said “immaculate.” I’m sure she wished that were the case). Unlike in the first story, “Alphinland,” with Constance, I don’t get the sense that Tobias and Wilma are going to be ok. Wilma’s vision has turned people to blobs, although she seems to see these apparitions with absolute clarity. There’s some kind of amazing irony in the idea that Wilma can now see crowds of dancing people more clearly than she may have seen them when her vision was perfect. (I also did some reading, and while there’s no treatment for Charles Bonnet syndrome, the patient is able to fully understand that the hallucinations are not real and therefore can somehow maintain sanity).

I noticed a strange kind of repetition in both of these stories, a sort of projecting into the future. In the last few pages of “Stone Mattress,” Atwood writes: “He will receive…, he will brush his teeth, he will adjust…” etc. The same sort of repetition occurs in “Torching the Dusties” on page 251. Then she ends with ambiguity: “If, that is, she pulls it off. Will she or won’t she?” We know that Bob is dead; we know that Verna has been careful in her planing; but why are we deprived of a conclusive ending?

I find it interesting that in a collection of stories that often questions the submissiveness/passiveness of women in reality or perception the title story would be “Stone Mattress.” Verna, like most of the other women, carries some kind of male-imposed damage. She has made it her life’s work to kill off men, which she blames the OG Bob for turning her into a murderer. She also manages the greatest “defeat” over the man who damaged her by murdering him. Other female characters have achieved this, but in less sinister and perhaps less direct ways. I feel like Atwood may be asking us to look at all of the women as the true achievers in these tales. Or, as we have also discussed, did an editor simply pick this story to title the collection?

It also became clear to me while reading the last two stories that aging and death are incredibly prevalent themes in this collection. Of course, we have discussed this in class, but the misogyny in this collection has been so obvious that I tended to read the book from a more feminist perspective – which we have also discussed. I think death and old age being so apparent and problematic in the last story is intentional. Atwood is asking us to pay attention to themes by bookending the collection with “Alphinland” and  “Torching the Dusties.” (Or another editor’s choice?!) Assuming that this is intentional, the stories mirror each other through the two POV characters who are a little “off their rockers,” so to speak, yet keenly aware of their circumstances – loneliness, old age, past years, and looming death.

For me, one of the stand-out sections of “Torching the Dusties” is on page 256-257, when Wilma is innocently listening to the news and is hearing a list of natural disasters occurring across the country, which then leads into a listing of main news event that briefly mentions “an old age home has been set on fire by a mob wearing baby masks.” This was  previously foreshadowed on 255 and is later developed on 260. Atwood creates suspense. On page 270, Wilma “eats the chocolate greedily.” I find “greedily” an interesting word choice in the context of the story.

Wilma is also an interesting POV character because she has to rely on others to know what’s occurring around her, yet she does not feel unreliable. I believe that is because although she can’t see and has hallucinations, she is still very sharp and keenly aware of herself and her environment (242, 248, 254, 255, 261).

These stories, “Stone Mattress” and “Torching the Dusties,” were some of the stranger stories in the collection, but both continued the themes of unlikable men and old people that have been present in almost every story so far.

Death threats have been present throughout the collection, but a character finally cracks and becomes violent, and I think it was good to put that towards the end of the book, and then the story about burning down a retirement home also should probably go near the end. The stories become more and more chaotic as they go along, and it makes a lot of sense for the placement of the stories. It would be a bit of a letdown if the book itself began with a story about a violent protest movement and then moved backwards to a woman sitting alone in her house during a storm.

There were some great moments of humor in these stories, though, which was a nice break from the darker aspects of them. One of my favorite lines was from “Stone Mattress.” It says, “some have females attached to them and she eliminates them on principle: why work harder than you need to?” (202). I thought that line was just funny, and humor is always nice to keep things interesting.

We had two very different female protagonists in these two stories, Verna and Wilma, and I imagine that was intentional. Both were older women who were interacting with an older man, but they were so different. Verna, obviously, was a murderer, but Atwood still managed to make her seem like a bustling old woman out for a cruise. She also still makes Verna sympathetic, I think, despite the plot, because of Verna’s circumstances. Wilma was much more likable. She understands why people hate her generation; she recognizes the shortcomings of Tobias; she believes in climate change — all of these things make her seem open-minded and likable.

Tobias was unlikable in so many ways. He was pretentious and controlling, manipulative and possibly a murderer. But he takes good care of Wilma throughout the story. The ending, of course, reinforces our negative view of him, but he takes Wilma with him. He escorts her to the dining hall and then home again every day. This makes him a much more interesting character than had he been purely evil.

Bob was barely present in the story. He comes across as a pushy old man the few moments that we see of him in a scene, but most of the reason why the reader dislikes him is because of the stories that Verna tells about him. He’s definitely not likable, but if we simply saw him at face value, talking about his wife and kids, we’d probably like him. That then brings into question the reliability of Verna as a narrator. She is the only reason we hate him. Are we justified in that hate? I think the text indicated to me that I could trust it and trust Verna’s version of the truth, but it is a question I had while reading.