Margaret Atwood and the Moral Disorder

A dear and well-read friend once told me that she's careful not to read too many Margaret Atwood books in succession. She didn't want to run out. She wanted to have some fresh, outstanding, contemporary writing available to her, in case of emergencies.

Margaret Atwood's works can be reread, though (if you go in for that sort of thing) and thankfully she writes so much and publishes so often that, for most of us, it's no problem to devour her books as they come out. She is a Canadian treasure and a treasure for fiction readers throughout the world. I hope she lives and writes for a long time yet - but enough gushing.

Moral Disorder was published by Bloomsbury earlier this year. It's a compilation of short stories that share the same central character, lumped together like this they amount to a whole life story without the boring bits and appeals much like the sum of any person's life stories does.

Like many of Atwood's thoroughly satisfying books, Moral Disorder is useful, it reminds us (among other things) why we need to:
1. Take plenty of photos,
2. Be a good friend, and
3. Savour life before it runs out.

Moral Disorder (a title she nicked from her husband's unfinished novel) is merely the most recently published of more than 30 works Margaret Atwood has proffered. It doesn't come near the brilliance of some of her earlier works, such as Alias Grace and Oryx and Crake (the latter so underrated), but it nourishes the reader in that same way that my well-read friend knows too well.

Readers can trust Margaret Atwood to switch them on - who else does this for us?

P.S. I suspect that too few men read Margaret Atwood, to them I most firmly recommend her work, the few men that I've known to read her novels have been very glad they did.

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