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There But For The Grace Of God Go I.

I very much dislike this whole Fifty Shades of Grey fashion that is going on at the moment. This is not  because I am particularly prudish, but instead because I find the whole concept of the craze rather distasteful and patronising. I do not believe that women need to be given permission to be able to admit to enjoying something written about sex, and I don't like how books like this reinforce the belief that to make sex acceptable to women, it needs to be dressed up as a second-rate romance. Furthermore, its utter crap, and in the few paragraphs I have read (out loud, in a dramatic voice, from our office communal copy which has since mysteriously gone missing) I have been driven to distraction by the poor quality, half-arsed writing style of it (denote that she is thinking by writing in italics. Finish every sentence with either Holy crap, Holy Jesus, Holy shit etc etc, because then the reader will know how very innocent she is and will be able to identify with her because we are all delicate flowers)

This book transported me to a different time and place. I was there, shyly standing behind Rachael. I was her shadow and her witness, simultaneously cheering her on and worried for her - for her inability to pretend to be what was expected of her as a woman of that place and time. 

This is a beautifully written story, it's characters fully fleshed out, flawed individuals. 

I fell in love with clever, angry, rebellious Rachael and then fell in love with Judah as seen through her eyes. My heart broke with hers at the injustice done to quiet, obedient Shona. I adored her brother Joshua and father Yosef - both quiet, kind men and honourable in the true sense of the word, rather than the facade of "honour" required by the society and time they inhabit.

I seethed with anger at the injustice that was a fact of life for the women in this story, and cried for Rachael's family - the men as well as the women. I would despair for my two sons if they had to grow up in a society like this.

In short, I loved this book. Read it and enjoy a tale well told. What you take away from it is entirely up to you.

I studied this book in school. Well, technically I didn't have to study it for school (I was the only person doing an English Literature AS level in my school, so I was supposed to only do half the texts, but ended up doing pretty much all of them just for fun. I know, I know.) Its funny actually, that most people end up hating the books they study at school whereas the majority of those I studied I've ended up really fond of. At the time of studying it, I had no idea of who Margaret Atwood was, or that the book caused some controversy at the time of its release. Atwood was accused of blowing wide open the concept of the sisterhood that feminism had been building its foundations on.

I loved it immediately. At least, as much as you can love such an uncomfortable read. The detail and colours in this book give it such a sense of truthfulness and realism that it left a deep impression on me. Just like the description of time as a pool of water, sentiments and lessons from it resurface in my mind on occasion. I've read and re-read it many, many times.