I’ve slowly been loosing track of time; I keep forgetting that we are all halfway through April. The snow outside my window also isn’t helping with any of my time confusion.
I wasn’t entirely shocked by the ending of Handmaid’s Tale, it was probably the most realistic, albeit unjust endings that would occur in a situation like the one Offred suffered in. The historical notes section ironically was the most realistic portion, showing how some professors question female narratives. I mean, I don’t see any professor lobbying similar criticism at The Odyssey. It’s depressing and makes me especially pessimistic as I’m a female who wants to be a writer. Luckily though, I think some progress has been made in recent years however with more academic criticism of female texts themselves rather than the author’s credibility.
Speaking of credibility, The Yellow Wallpaper made me happy to exist in the current time I do. Despite currently be in several avenues of dire straights, I’m happy I can’t be locked away by my doctor husband for being just a little sad. As someone who suffers from mental illness and has a history of people who looking down upon or belittling my struggles, I’m just thankful none of them have that sort of authority over my body, my care and my brain. Reading her slow mental collapse and deterioration actually gave me real fear, like “oh my god, this could’ve been several people I know personally”. I realize I’m making this mostly about myself, but its because I absorbed the text into my own character that it’s the only way I could process it.
Womens Lit. Blog 