Margaret Atwood: “Older women are only allowed to be two things: wise old women or wicked old witches”
From a small café in downtown Toronto, Margaret Atwood — Canada’s renowned literary icon — reflects on writing, on President Trump, on the enduring force of her novel The Handmaid’s Tale, and on life itself. The author, now 85 years old, has just released her long-anticipated memoirs.
Surrounded by the quiet stir of the afternoon crowd, Atwood passes mostly unnoticed. Petite and dressed in dark tones, a hat shading her white curls, she walks calmly to the terrace where autumn sunlight cuts through the chill. There, she begins to speak with her familiar dry humor about her new book and its creative struggle.
“Who wants to read the story of someone sitting at a desk wrestling with a blank page?”
“It’s boring enough to die of boredom.”
Reflections on Writing and Legacy
Atwood admits she long resisted writing her memoirs. Over her prolific career, she has captured worlds both imagined and painfully real, so turning that meticulous gaze inward felt redundant. Yet curiosity — and perhaps an impish defiance of literary expectations — eventually led her to do it anyway.
Canadian Literature and Mortality
In her conversation, she touches on the evolution of Canadian literature and on age. Her reflections are light yet tinged with mortality — a reminder that every story, even hers, must one day find its final page.
Author’s summary: Margaret Atwood, in her characteristic wit and subtle melancholy, discusses her memoirs, aging, and the irony of telling her own story at last.