The Handmaid's Tale

I have to admit, It's been awhile since I've felt this strongly about a book, and I don't mean that in a good way!

On a recent vacation, I grudgingly accepted that I would have to read my school assigned novels and not my shiny new Dan Brown book that's been sitting neglected on my bookshelf.

So on a sunny day in Negril I pulled out Handmaid's Tale and with a double Amaretto sour in my hand, began to read. But I couldn't even get through the first couple pages before I was bored! (And no, not because of the Amaretto, it was in fact my first drink of the day).

So I tried again and again and yet again throughout the trip, and not until about 1/3 of the way into my trip did I begin to WANT to read it. It was so slow moving, I didn't know what was going on and the main character was a drag! I was way more interested in her racy best friend!

But finally I pieced together what was happening and began to enjoy myself. I even read for four straight hours on the place ride home.

I only had about 30 pages left when I returned to school on Monday and actually read the final pages in a work-period class. It went something like this:

30 pages left: Discover that this is the last page, and that the other 29 were just mysterious filler.

After reading last sentence: A yell of rage escapes my throat and I physically throw the book onto the floor!

Classmates: Looking on confused.

I COULD NOT believe that after going through so much effort to get into this book and finally (grudgingly) letting myself fall for its charms it reverted back to its opening paragraphs and truly disappointed me.

I can't really tell you more than that without ruining the ending of the book, and I know a few of my classmates haven't finished it yet. But come on Margaret Atwood!! unless you've secretly written a sequel that I don't know about, then you've got an angry/disappointed/aggressively frustrated reader on your hands.