Of Margaret Atwood's Novels the Edible Wom- and Bodily Ham

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Reading Hidden Layers: A Genetic Analysis of the Drafts of Margaret Atwood's novels The Edible Wom- and Bodily Ham

Helmut Reic henbacher

A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Ph.D. Graduate Department of English University of Toronto

O Copyright by Helmut Reichenbacher 1998 National Library Bibliothèque nationale I*I of Canada du Canada Acquisitions and Acquisitions et Bibliographie Services services bibliographiques 395 Wellington Street 395, nie Wellington OttawaON K1AON4 Ottawa ON KIA ON4 Canada Canada Your hk, Votre relerence

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The author retains ownership of the L'auteur conserve la propriété du copyright in this thesis. Neither the droit d'auteur qui protège cette thèse. thesis nor substantial extracts fiom it Ni la thèse ni des extraits substantiels may be printed or otherwise de celle-ci ne doivent être imprimés reproduced without the author's ou autrement reproduits sans son permission. autorisation. ABSTRACT "Reading Hidden Layers: A Genetic Analysis of the Drafts of Margaret Atwood's novels The Edible Woman and Bodilv Harm" Ph.D Thesis, 1998, Helmut Reichenbacher, Department of English, University of Toronto

Margaret Atwood's creative technique as a novelist is the subject of this thesis, which considers two of her novels, the Edible Woman (1969) and Eodil~Harm (1981). The dissertation investigates Atwood's process of writing, from the earliest extant drafts of the novels to the final, published product. Genetic criticism. the methodology applied in analysing the manuscript material, studies textual venions without privileging a " best" or de finit ive version. This methodology traces the creative process by reviewing al1 ddtmaterials pertaining to a work in order to establish a genetic dossier. The analysis presented in the thesis is based on manuscript materials collected in the Margaret Atwood Papers at the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library, University of Toronto. The materials in this collection have never been used for any systematic, extended study of Atwood's creative technique. A comparison of Atwood's first published novel, The Edible Woman, with Bodilv Harm clearly demonstrates contrasting techniques of composition. The thesis contains a genetic dossier for each novel, cataloguing al1 materials relevant to their creation and in each case establishing their c hronological sequence. The genetic dossier for The Edible Woman is followed by a chapter which demonstrates Atwood's systematic removal of material from this text so as to create narrative gaps which the audience is expected to fill. The chapter documents Atwood's manipulation of characten' names, shows how Marian's fear and her own insiglits into her emotional state disappear fiorn the drafis, and reveals how relationships between Marian and other key characten are reconfigured. In contrast, the analysis of Bodil~Harm shows how Ahvood composes her 198 1 novel by constantly adding material, creating a dense web of motivic structures for readers to investigate. in analysing this novel's construction throuçh accretion, key events are highlighted through the use of title and setting, the structural changes within the novel's first section, and the novel's ending. Despite the numerous collections of contemporary literary manuscripts in Canada, this analytical tool has rarely been used. The study contributes to Canadian literary criticism by offering new insights into the interpretation of the two novels, and a new methodology tnuisferable to the exploration of other collections. Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1 GENETIC CRITICISM AND ATWOOD'S MANUSCRIPTS ...... 1 PROJECTAND GOAL...... 1

CONTRIBUTIONOF THIS STUDY...... 24

CHAPTER 2

THE GENETIC DOSSIER FOR THE EDlBLE WOMAN ...... ,...... 26 STAGEONE: ISOLATED PIECESOF WRITING...... 29 "Food": Fragment MS .a ...... 30 "The Fight between Me and Them " and "I'mNot Really What You 'd Cal[ Fat": Fragments MS .b and MS .c ...... 31 "Life With the Real Me ": Fragment MS.d ...... 32 "The Game ": Fragment MS .e ...... 32 "Are You the Wooman Who Washes ": MS .f and TSSJ...... 33 " The Interviewer ": MSg ...... 35 STAGETWO: THE PROTO-VERSION OF THE EDIBLE WOMAN, FRAGMENT TS.AA ...... 36 STAGETHREE: THE FIRST TWO FULL-LENGTH VERSIONS, MS .A AND TS .B ...... 38 STAGEFOUR: TS .C AND THE COMPLETIONOF THE NOVEL...... 41

CHAPTER 3

CREATING GAPS: THE GENETIC ANALYSIS OF THE EDIBLE WOMAN .... 51 INTRODUCTION...... 51 The PoZitics ofNaming ...... 53 Naming the Protagonist ...... 56 THEPROTAGONIST'S PSYCHOLOGY ...... -64 The Mingof Fear ...... 64 Introspection and Self-recognition ...... -79 Mental lmbalance ...... ,...... -95 REBALANCINGPOWER POLITICS ...... 109 Marian and her Room-mate ...... 110 Marian and Peter ...... 115 Marian and Duncan ...... 122 THEEXPLICIT VERSUS THE IMPLICIT...... -135 Final Words ...... 142

CHAPTER 4 THE GENETIC DOSSIER FOR BODILY HARM ...... 145 THEFIRST HOLOGRAPH DRAFT (MS.A) ...... 146 THESECOND DRAFT. A TYPESCRIPT(TS.B) ...... 147 VARIOUSFRAGMENTS ...... 147 THETHIRD DRAFT (TS.C) ...... 149 THEFOURTH DRAFT (TS.D) ...... 149 THEFIFTH DRAFT (TS .E)...... I51 THESIXTH DRAFT (TS.F) ...... 152 THESEVENTH DRAFT (TS.G) ...... 153 THEEIGHT DRAFT (TS.H) ...... 154 OTHERRELEVANT MATERIAL ...... 155

CHAPTER 5 WEAVING A WB: THE GENETIC ANALYSIS OF BODILY HARM...... 158 PART1 : THENOVEL'S BEGINNMG ...... 159 The Choice of Title...... 159 The First Episode 's "Setting " ...... 168 The Protagonist 's Quandary...... 171 Rennie 's Reaction to the Police Presence ...... 176 PART2: THENOVEL'S EPISODIC STRUCTUEE ...... 178 Episodes of the Main Narrative ...... 182 Secondary Episodes or Flashbacks ...... 203 PART3: THENOWL'S ENDING...... 218 The Episodes of Rennie in the Prison Cell...... 219 The Physical Abuse of Lora ...... -219 Rennie S Inner Change ...... -222 Rennie 's Return Home: Reality or Vision?...... -227 FZights to andfrorn the Caribbean ...... -230 Inserts of a Real and an Irnaginary Character ...... 23 2 The Novel S Last Paragraph ...... 233 A Solution ...... -235

APPENDICES .a.ann.....aaa.....m.mm...... m...m...... m...m.m....m...... **...... mm.a..m.mmamam.... m.mmmm251

APPENDIX1 : CHRONOLOGYFOR THEEDIBLE WOMAN ...... 252 APPENDIX2: TS.AA(1 3-PAGEFRAGMENT): BOX 18. FOLDER2. FOLIOS1. 1 3 ...... 255 APPENDIX3: MS.A (FIRSTFULL DRAFT): BOX 18. FOLDERS5-1 8 ...... 256 APPENDIX4: TS .B (SECONDDRAFT): BOX 1 8. FOLDERS1 9-32 ...... 258 APPENDIX5: TS.B~(SECOND DRAFT. CARBON COPY): BOX 19. FOLDERS1. 14 ...... 259 APPENDIX6: TS.F (FRAGMENT):BOX 1 9. FOLDERS30-3 7 ...... 260 APPENDIX7: TS.G ("REJECTED TYPESCRIPT"):BOX 19. FOLDERS24-29 ...... 261 APPENDIX8: TS.H (THE LASTDRAFT): BOX 19. FOLDERS39-48 ...... -262 APPENDIX9: STEMMAOF ALL DRAFTSOF THEEDIBLE WOMAN ...... 264 APPENDIX10: MS.A. BODILYHARM. BOX 33. FOLDERI ...... 269 APPENDIX 1 1 : TS.B. BODILYHARM. BOX 33. FOLDERS2-3 ...... 273 APPENDIX12: TS.C. BODILYHARM. BOX 33. FOLDERS6-7 ...... 277 APPEND~X13: TS.D. BODILYHARM. BOX 34. FOLDER1-16 ...... 283 APPENDIX14: TS.E. BODILYHAM. BOX35. FOLDERS1-5 ...... 300 APPENDIX15: TS.F. BODILYHARM. BOX 36. FOLDERS14 ...... 13 APPENDIX16: TS.G. BODILYHAM. BOX36. FOLDER5-6 ...... 19 APPENDIX17: TS.H. BODILYHARM. BOX 36. FOLDER7 ...... 324 List of Tables

Table 1 : The Five Stages of Writing The Edible Woman ...... 29 Table 2: Materials Pertaining to the First and Second Stage of Writing The Edible Woman ...... ,...... *...... **37 Table 3: Outline of Material for TS.C ...... 149 Table 4: Outline of Material for TS.D. by section ...... 150 Table 5: Outline of Material for TS.D. by folder ...... 151 Table 6: Outline of Material for TS.E. by section...... 151 Table 7: Outline of Materiai for l'S.E. by folder ...... 152 Table 8: Outline of Materiai for TS.F. by section ...... 153 Table 9: Outline of Matenai for TS.F. by folder...... 153 Table 1 0: Outline of Material for TS.G. by section ...... 154 Table 1 1 : Outline of Matenal for TS.G. by folder ...... 154 Table 12: Outline of Material for TS.H. by section ...... 155 Table 13: Overview of the Episodes in Section 1...... 181 Table 1 4: The Use of Tense in the Last Episode in TS.E (35.5 -59-63)...... 229

Al1 manuscript quotations in this doctoral dissertation are 'O Margaret Atwood . Reprinted by permission of the author." Sait-on ce que c'est qu ëcrire? Une ancienne et très vague mais jalouse pratique, dont gît le sens au mystère du cœur. Qui 1 'accomplif, intégralement. se rerranche. (Sttphane Mallarmé)

Quand mon roman sera fini, dans un an. je t 'apporterai mon manuscrit complet, par curiosité. Tu verras par quelle mécanique compliquée j 'arrive u faire une phrase. (Gustave Flaubert)

Chapter 1

Genetic Criticism and Atwood's Manuscripts

Project and Goal

Margaret Atwood's novels are read and disseminated throughout the world.

Among the languages into which her work has been translated are Catalan, Estonian,

Hebrew. Icelandic, Polish. Turkish. and Urdu to name just a few of the twenty-two languages which Atwood's personal home page cites.' Most of her readers and critics are able to consider her work only as a finished product. As a rule, the vast majority of readers study her work as a stable text, authoritatively fixed in print. In contrast, examining Atwood's texts in manuscript form+mploying the methodology of genetic criticism-reveais a process in flux and a text which is continuously re-shaped. To use a

' Atwood's website-URL: http://www.web.net/owtoad-lists the following languages: Catalan, Danish, Dutch, Estonian, Finnish, French, German, Greek, Hebrew, Icelandic, Italian, Japanese, Norwegian, Polish, Portuguese, Romanian, Russian, Serbo-Croatian, Spanish, Swedish, Turkish, and Urdu. metaphor fiom the recent introduction to the special issue "Drafts" of the Yale French

Studies: rather than confining ourselves with a visit to the art gallery and restricting ourselves to the site of exhibition in order to admire a finished work of art, genetic cnticism will visit the artist's studio and explore the site of production (Contat. Hollier.

Neefs 3). Applying the rnethodology of genetic cnticism to the analysis of the pre- publication material of two of Margaret Atwood's novels-The Edible Woman and

Bodilv Hm-reveals two contrasting techniques of composition and revision and provides critical insight into hidden layers central to the novel's interpretation. With a current total of 207 boxes or 30 metres of material, the collection of Margaret Atwood's manuscripts at the Thomas Fisher Librq, University of Toronto, provides us with an exceptional entrée into *'the writer's st~d~."~The Atwood collection permits the curious to peek into the work room and witness the physical evidence of the imaginative processes which produced the published text.

In order to follow Atwood's process of revision, it is necessary to focus on the preparatory materials in holograph and typescript form which document the complex procedures of her writing process. The nineteenth-century Romantics viewed the creative process as mystery, possibly induced by divine inspiration. They believed that a work of art simply materialises in the author's mind.' However, by analysing the physical manifestations of the creative process-the author's numerous drafts-the creative

' This figure is accurate as of May 1998. However, material is periodically accessioned to the collection. This notion of art created through divine inspiration or sheer intuition-an attitude towards creativity which produced what Antoine Compagnon (396) calls "the cult of the geniusV-starts to be dispelled as early as Edgar Alan Poe's The Philoso~hvof Corn~osition( 1846). process is made evident. While some cntics' analyses of pre-publication material focus

on the persona! or psychological aspects of writing-analyses such as psychoanalysts~r

graphologistsSmight undertake-genetic cnticism, the method applied here, rests on the

interpretative implications of authorial revisions and on how far these changes possess

significance for the literary scholar.

As an approach to literature, genetic cnticism forces the reader to recognise that

the published text represents just one point in a whole series of extant texts, each of

which has validity and purpose. Like a palimpsest. these preparatory stages-or avant-

textes6 as French critics cal1 them-deserve recovery. Bringing to light the pre-

publication stages illuminates the final text's interpretation. The hidden layers of text

eloquently speak of authorial thought processes, such as the exploration of key concepts.

ideas, and motifs present at the work's inception. Genetic criticism also reveals how

these elements became re-shaped during the process of writing to yield their final

appearance and the resulting shifts in meaning.

1 Some cntics believe that the authorysrough drafts may be closer to the unconscious and fiee association than the published text. ni(: rough drafts cm therefore take the position of the "patienty' or "analysand" (Biasi, critique génétique 30-32). For a detailed discussion of the possible relationships between genetic criticism and psychoanalysis, see Genesis 8 ( 1995), a special issue on "psychanalyse" edited by Daniel Ferrer and Jean- Michel Rabaté or Jean Bellemin-Noël, "Avant-texte et lecture psychanalytique." For examples of gmphological studies of manuscript material, see Ilse Zuther-Roioff or Günther Gottschalk. The latter critic calls his approach to the study of the Hermann Hesse manuscripts graphometric philology ["Graphometrische Philologieyy]. At least since Jean Bellemin-Noël's book, Le texte et l'avant-texte (l972), the term has been current in genetic criticism. Situating the Pmblem in Atwood's Work as a Whole

As a prolific writer, Atwood has produced a vast range of writing. Her literary oeuvre stretches from her pamphlet-sized poetry collection Double Persephone in 196 her 470-page novel Alias Grace published in 1996. Among her literary output are twenty- one books of poetry, nine novels, five books of short-fiction as well as four children's books, and four books of non-fiction. Not counting Atwood's editorship of five more books and nurnerous other publications in magazines, journals, and newspapers. her publishing record entails 43 books in 35 years. or more than a book per year. This mathematical yard-stick provides only a quantitative measurement for her literary oeuvre.

The quality of this work places Margaret Atwood at the forefront of today's poets and novelists. Her literary accomplishrnent has been recognised through nurnerous awards, including two Govemor General's Awards (for Circle Game in 1966 and for The

Handmaid's Tale in 1986) as well in the granting of a dozen honorary degreesn7

in deciding which genre to analyse through the methodology of genetic criticism, the most expansive forms provide the best evidence. Authonal thought processes of creativity are more likely to be matenally docurnented and extant for longer works than shorter. While the thought processes of poetry and the shaping of the actual words and rhythms are much more likely to occur undocumented in the author's rnind, expansive genres, such as the novel, usually provide ample evidence in writing. In an interview with Graeme Gibson, Atwood recognises this distinction between the writing of a novel and the writing of a poem:

7 For the long list of Margaret Atwood's awards and honorary degrees, see Atwood's website at URL: http://www.web.net/owtoad/awards.htm. it's a lot more hard work. It's physical labour in a way that poetry isn't.

You can wtite a poem very quickly, and then it's done, and you've had

everythuig, al1 possible satisfactions and engagements with the thing

condensed in a short period of tirne. The equivalent for that with a novel is

when you get a few of the key scenes. But the problem then is sustaining

your interest long enough to achially sit down and work it out, and that is

di fficult.

In order to follow Atwood's patterns of "physical labour" in writing, her "sit[ting] down and work[ingJ it out," this study focuses on the development of two early novels.

The Edible Woman ( 1969) and Bodilv Harm (1 98 1) provide a pairing which demonstrates transformations in Atwood's creative technique, as both novels occupy key moments in the evolution of Atwood's writing career. Atwood's first published novel, The Edible

Woman, documents her successful development of prose fiction into an extended but unified whole. The work also marks the point of depamire for her novelistic career. The

Edible Woman is seminal: for the first time it develops at length the themes present in every subsequent Atwood novel. Such themes include her concem for women's place in society and the constraints on their lives; the social pressures on women and the resuiting psychological conflicts in female characters which often result in emotionai disturbances or mental irnba~ances;~and women's exploitation as a commodity in a consumer society, as consumers and consurned. Atwood's "Prototext" as HiIde Staels cdIs The Edible

Woman, "introduces many of the central themes and imagery that will reoccur [sic] in the

For a book-length study dedicated to the split subject, see Mycak. later novels in other contexts" (17 and 36). Derived from the Greek, and meaning "the parent form of a specified substance," Staels's term is aptly chosen. This key position of

The Edible Woman is also recognised by other critics. such as Eleanora Rao. who observes, "The Edible Woman, in fact, contains in embrio [sic] themes that will be explored in her later fiction, such as a problematization of identity and fernale subjectivity, sexual politics; the opposition between appearance and essence, surface and depths" (5 1). Rao's list could be extended to include more forma1 characteristics, such as

Atwood's experimentation with narrative point of view; intertextuality, such as her use of fairy-taie allusions. as well as forms of novelistic closure; and a particular interest in the exploration of language and meaninge9

In a review reprinted in her Second Words, Atwood comrnents on the continuity found in most writers' work: "If you look at what most writers do. it resembles a theme with variations more than it does the popular notion of growth. Writers' universes may become more elaborate, but they do not necessarily become essentially different" (32 1 ).

Describing The Edible Woman as the parent of the novels to corne seems only appropriate. And the novel therefore, lends itself particulariy to an investigation whose main focus is the origin of a literary product.

Similarly, the second novel in this study, Bodily Harm (198 1) occupies an important position in Atwood's oeuvre. Together with the two contemporaneous volumes of poetry, True Stories and Notes Towards a Poem That Can Never Be Written, both published in 198 1, this novel continues Atwood's exploration of politics. Since the

1960s, feminists have argued, to use Kate Millet's phrase, that '?he persona1 is the

For a similar assessrnent of the novel, see Kirtz, 74. political." Bodilv Hmextends this assertion by exploring the close parallels between the persona1 dilernrna, such as cancer or male-female power structures. and the political. such as the power stniggles for hegemony in arms, dmgs, and international affairs. With its inrricate conjoining of persona1 and political motifs, this dense patteming of Bodily

Harm leads Lorna Irvine to descnbe the novel as "the most carefully stnictured of

Margaret Atwood's novels and politicaHy, the most profound and radical" (99). Thus,

BodiIv Harm indicates a shift in Atwood's focus of interests, which led in 1985 to the writing of her feminist dystopia The Handmaid's Tale.

Even though some critics, such as Shannon Hengen. have found The Edible

Woman and Bodilv Hminferior to some other Atwood novels-Hengen pairs them respectively with Surfacing and The Handmaid's Tale-the novels discussed here constitute the earlier exarnple in the pair. Even in Hengen's analysis, they can therefore be said to constitute the seeds for further exploration of these themes in the respective later novel. From this perspective, The Edible Woman and Bodilv Hmthus provide a particularly interesting object of exploration for a genetic study with its mandate to investigate the ongins of artistic processes.

While the choice of these particular two texts is grounded in their seminal position within Atwood's work, their particular origins also establish The Edible Woman and

Bodilv Harm as a useful pairing. The two novels ideally complement each other by revealing opposed strategies of composition and revision. While the process of writing and revision in The Edible Woman is charactensed by reduction and subtraction, the composition of Bodilv Hmis characterised by synthesis and addition. While in The

Edibie Woman, more and more factual and explicit information about the protagonist's state of mind disappears frorn the text, in Bodily Harm significant material is added and woven into the begiming of the novel in order to shape a motivic density which is rich in anticipatory allusions. The matenal analysed therefore demonstrates how Atwood adapts her writing technique. The writing technique in her early The Edible Woman-only the second attempt at a novel but the first to get published-stands in fascinating opposition to Bodilv Harm, the work of a mature and practised novelist.

Genetic Criticism

Literary texts are the result of an author's considerable work over an extended period of tirne.'' This work ieaves nurnerous physical traces of authorial thought processes in the form of outlines and rough drafts. For example, in the case of Atwood's

The Edible Woman, the time span-from first inception of key ideas through the various stages of rough drafts and revisions to the final publication-occupied more than five years." In the case of Bodilv Hm,the period of composition-begun, as her bound notebook relates, on "May 2 1, 1980, 10:22 p.m." (33.1 .4)12and finished with the novel's publication in the fa11 of 198 14sconsiderably shorter. However, the physical evidence-the traces of Atwood's rigorous process of revision-is still considerable: the

'O Exceptions to this general rule cm be found among those writers whose first draft is almost identical with the last drafl, such as Stendhal (for Henrv Brulard and Lucien Leuwen) and, out of necessity, Jorge Luis Borges derhe tumed blind (Grésillon 30). '' For details, see chapter two on the description of the genetic dossier to The Edible Woman. l2 The reference is to the Margaret Atwood manuscript collection in the Thomas Fisher Rare Books Library, University of Toronto, MS 200. Henceforth, in identifyuig a quotation, the first number refers to the box number, the second to the folder number. The last number refers to the recto of a leaf unless the verso is specified by the addition of a small 'v'. Therefore 33.1.4 refers to box 33, folder 1, recto of leaf 4. Thomas Fisher Library holds seven boxes of drafi material for Bodilv Hm. Genetic

criticism takes such material for its object of research.

Graham Falconer defines genetic cnticism as "any act of interpretation or

cornrnentary, any cntical question or answer that is based directly on preparatory material

or variant States of al1 or part of a given text, whether in manuscnpt or in print" ("Genetic

Criticism" 3). Genetic criticism extends the study of texts by this additional, temporal

dimension in order to study the text in its process of formation (Biasi "critique génétique"

5). This widening of perspective leads Laurent Jenny and other critics to cal1 the poetics

of genetic criticism a "three-dimensional poetics" (1 5). Rather than working with the

published, "closed text." which exists only in a "finished shape," the genetic critic

constructs the relationship among drafts and published versions and "proceed[s] to a

literal opening of the text ont0 the textual nebula that is its genesis. It would be this

structural indeterminacy that would characterize open 'writing' in opposition to the

[printed] text." The geneticist draws on an open avant-texte, a form which "only exists in the dynarnic of its transformations" (1 5).

French critics see this opening up of the art work as a reaction to structuralist approaches to texts:

[genetic criticism] reinscribe[s] the work in the senes of its variants: in the

space of its possibilities. . . . The text is not as hale and hardy as it once

was; it lost reliability, the stability that allowed the virtuoso of

interpretation to use it as a safe landing place for their high-flying

henneneutical acrobatics (Contat, Hoilier, Neefs 1996, 2-3). The geneticist's first task is to establish what French critics cal1 the dossier génétique or the "ensemble de tous les témoins génétiques écrits conservés d'une œuvre ou d'un projet d'écriture, et classés en fonction de leur chronologie des étapes successives" (Grésillon 242). Pierre-Marc de Biasi describes this process in four steps.

First, the geneticist has to gather and catalogue al1 pre-publication matenal pertaining to a given work. This step includes a detailed bibliographic description and dating of the material. Secondly, the manuscript material needs to be classified according to kind

(notes. rough drafts, clean copy) and according to phase (stage of writing process). To order the material in sequence, provisional deciphering of the manuscript material has to be accomplished. This provisional typology is then refined in the third stage to establish a more rigorous genetic classification. Genetic critics can thus establish for each printed page the location of the first sketch, the developed sketch. the rough drafts, the corrected copy, and the definitive copy (Biasi 1990, 22-23). While Biasi lists as a fourth step the deciphenng and transcription of the genetic dossier, this step is practicable in its entirety only for genetic editions, which reproduce the genetic dossier in a typographical facsimile' of the pre-publication material.

l3 Mary-JO Kline describes the typographical facsimile as the editor's attempt "to duplicate exactly the appearance of the original source text-insofar as this is possible within the limits of modem typesetting technology. . . . No contractions or abbreviations are expanded. . . . The author's format and spacing are followed exactly" (1 18). English- speaking critics normaily use the term "diplornatic transcription" to describe the process in which ''the editor employs carefully chosen critical symbols or abbreviations to indicate details of inscription such as interlineations and cancellations instead of reproducing their physical appearance in the original" (120- 12 1). For the purpose of this study, c'diplomatic transcription" will be the method used to represent Atwood's holograph and typescript material. For reasons of economy and copyright, only passages which are discussed in the andytical chapters of this study will be transcribed. The analysis proper of Atwood's novels The Edible Wornan and Bodily Hmwill each be preceded by a brief chapter which establishes the novel's genetic dossier. These two chapten descnbing the extant manuscript material cover Biasi's steps one through three.

The methodology of the analysis makes use of both microgenetic analysis and macrogenetic research (Biasi 1996,27). Both novels are submitted to a selected but detailed microgenetic analysis. However, in order to demonstrate the total compositional development of short textual fragments, the discussion of Bodilv Hmalso employs macrogenetic research, which looks at the complete collection of genetic documentation to study large-scale phenomena such as structural changes. While The Edible Woman reveals carefùl planning during its structural development, the structure of Bodilv Hmis transfomed during the writing process; no evidence of such planning is present in the

Fisher manuscripts. Whereas for The Edible Woman, several structural maps are extant

(such as chapter maps on 18.3.2v, 18.4.1, and 18.4.5)' no such plans-if there were any- survive for Bodilv Hm. The novels under discussion clearly demonstrate contrasting writing strategies. Atwood's The Edible Woman obeys what Grésillon calls an écriture prosamme: the wîiting obeys a previously established plan and follows a path of various stages of writing (notes, plans, lists). Bodilv Hm,on the other hand, follows an écriture

-à processus, a process of writing without an apparent preparatory phase. Atwood begins the writing in a notebook (33.1) in continuous prose or, as Grésillon would have it, the

"textualisation" takes place at the moment of writing (294). niai the structural plans for The Edible Woman constitute an exception to

Atwood's later method of working is reinforced by Atwood's interview with Mary

Morris: "The structure or design [of a novel] gets worked out in the course of the writing.

1 couldn't write the other way round, with structure first. It would be too much like paint- by-numbers" (77). This working technique, which later became her standard method, was not in place when the young writer devised her first published novel.

While genetic criticism is related to and ofien draws upon the methodologies of other disciplines of textual sch~larshi~,'~it is quite distinct in the questions it asks and the goals it sets for itself. While in the Anglo-American context, textual criticism is mostly seen as subsidiary to editorial projects-its objective to establish a definitive text-genetic criticism's primary interest lies in the analysis of the multiplicity of textual venions. without necessarily determining a best or definitive version. The merits of textual editing on the Anglo-American mode1 corne into focus when one considers the practical problem of the publisher. For practical and economical reasons, most publishers produce a single, clear text. The merits of the genetic approach become clear when the artist's creativity is the focus of attention. Documenting the stages of revision remains crucial for establishing both the specific details of the artist's creative process as well as representing the shifiing grounds of literary interpretation, providing essential results for the literary critic.

Genetic criticism can be better understood by cornparhg the various schools of textual scholarship and the respective roles which the manuscript and the variant play.

l4 For a description of such techniques as enurnerative, analytical, descriptive and other types of bibliography, see Greetham, Textual Scholarshi~5-9. Textual critics of pre-modem texts from the classical or medieval periods rely on manuscripts intended for circulation. In the tradition of the nineteenth-century philologist

Karl Lachmann, the textual critic examines the pre-modem manuscripts' variant readings in order to construct the genealogical relationships among the manuscripts. This tradition of textual criticism establishes the earliest recoverable stage of transmission in order to reconsûuct the presumed "archetype," the ultimate level of authority. In this tradition. the manuscnpt is a means to rediscover original authorial intent which has been compted through the repeated process of copying by hand (Greetharn 1994, 320-324). Cnticisrn of texts after the invention of the printing press deals with the modem manuscript, a private document in the transitional phase before publication. The textual critic in the tradition of W.W. Greg and Fredson Bowers generally disregards the pre-publication phase and begins the editorial project with the comparison of the author's fair-copy, the first edition, and other printed versions produced under the author's influence (Greetham 1994,332-

36). Cntical editions produced by this methodology need to resolve the variant readings into a best possible text. The active intervention of the editor produces a best-text, an eclectic combination of authorial manuscript and later pnnted version (Greetham 1994,

324-25). Both approaches assume there has to be a single best text, whether it is believed to have once existed, as Lachrnann did, or whether it is to be eclectically constnicted as

"the text that never was" but ought to have been, as the Greg-Bowers school of editors does (Greetharn, Textual Scholarshi~3 34).

Genetic cnticism has no such teleological aim. Genetic criticism rather delights in the multitude of alternative readings without the necessity to unie them into a single, definitive interpretation. Genetic criticism sees variants as additional @st for the mills of literary interpretation. While critical editions produce a clear, stable text with the list of

variant readings relegated to the apparatus,'* genetic editions attempt to document the

creative process as hilly as possible. representing pre-publication documents in their near

original state.16 Such genetic editions are necessarily voluminous and expensive. New

media such as CD ROM-a medium that Roland Re&' and Peter Staengle's Kafka

edition exploits-are ideal for making large amounts of pre-publication material

accessible and linking intercomected documents. While classical philology eliminates

variant readings in order to establish the best possible or "definitive" text, genetic

criticism requires the simultaneous presence of al1 multiple readings in order to allow the

full reconstruction of the author's creative process.

Biasi defines the difference between the textual critic's view of the manuscript or

rough drafi, brouillon, as opposed to the geneticist's view in order to underline this

difference: for the textual critic, the rough draft constitutes "al1 that precedes the finished

version of the text: a son of opaque space in which the structures of signification and

style are not yet in place and that remains resistant to interpretative designs upon it." For

the literary geneticist who is devoted to al1 avant-texte material, "the rough draft is an

l5 Typical examples for critical editions in the Anglo-Arnerican tradition are those approved by the Centre for Editions of American Authors or those produced by the Centre for Editing Early Canadian Texts. The C.E.A.A. was established by the Modem Language Association in 1963. The C.E.E.C.T.was founded in 1979 and is based at Carleton University in Ottawa. l6 For other examples of genetic editions see Marshall Waingrow's edition of James Boswell's Life of Johnson: An Edition of the Original Manuscri~tin Four Volumes; Pierre-Marc de Biasi's edition of Gustave Flaubert, Carnets de travail. Edition critique et génétique; Günter Dammann's et al. edition of Georg Heyrn; the Heinrich Heine edition jointly published by the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Paris and the Akademie Verlag, Stiftung Weimarer Klassik; Dietrich E. Sattler's Holderlin edition; essential link in the chain of transformation that have [sic] led from the project of the work to its definitive text: a crucial moment in the avant-texte stage7'(Biasi "What is a

Literary Dr&?" 27).

While the invention of the printing press in the fifteenth century began to replace the old mode of distribution of public manuscript copies intended for circulation, it was not until the end of the eighteenth century that private manuscripts, such as authorial drafi materials, were recognised as having value. They began to be treated as objects of interest, bearing testimony to an author's intellectual work and treasured for bearing the persona1 traces of an individual creation (Biasi "critque génétique" 7). At the beginning of the nineteenth century, a double development took place: medieval manuscripts as well as those fiom antiquity were rediscovered and studied by philologists, while writers began to preserve their own hand-written drafts. Instead of destroying rough drafts, writers donated or sold these papers to public or pnvate collections. This movement began in Germany at the end of the eighteenth century, but spread to France by the 1830s.

By the end of the century, this approach had encompassed most parts of Europe (Biasi

"critque génétique" 7). With the invention of the personal cornputer, the writing process has become more elusive. Revisions made on the word-processor no longer leave physical traces, unless a draft version is preserved by means of a print-out. Thus technological innovation threatens the very existence of genetic criticism as a literary discipline.

Wolfram Groddeck's edition of Nietzsche's "Dionysos-Dithyramben"; or Eberhard Sauermann and Hermann Zwerschina's edition of Georg Trakl. The origins of genetic criticism as a rigorous discipline are closely co~ectedwith a particular set of manuscnpts-the acquisition of Heinrich Heine's manuscripts in 1966 by the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris-and the institutional history of what is today the

"Institut des textes et manuscrits modernes'' (ITEMFnow at the Centre National de la

Recherche Scientifique (CNRS), where a team of researchers first came together in 1968

(Grésillon 4).17 While earlier manuscript studies exist. such as those by Gustave Rudler

(1923), Gabrielle Leleu (1936), or even W.H.Auden (1948),these studies lacked the systematic approach of a more fully developed discipline.18

In the field of English and American literatures, notable exarnples of manuscript studies and textual evolution include Jerome Beaty's analysis of George Eliot's drafts of

Middlemarch, Richard Taylor's article on Pound's Cantos, and Victor Doyno's study of

Mark Twain's writing of The Adventures of Huckleberrv Finn. An especially wide range of studies can be found on the process of revision in Hemingway. However, as in other

" For the 1960s scholarly interest in creative processes, witness the series "Les Sentiers de la création" (Grésillon 3), which produced voiurnes on writers, painters, critics, and intellectuals, including Joan Miro (1 976), Claude Lévi-Strauss (1 979, Octavio Paz (1 972), Pablo Picasso (197 l), Roland Barthes (l970), and Eugène Ionesco (1969). ''Biasi ("critique qenetique" 9) calls Gustave Rudler's Les techniques de la critique et de l'histoire littéraire en littérature française moderne (Oxford, 1923) a path-breaking study which neatly prefigures what is later called genetic criticism. Describing Rudler's short- cornings, Biasi maintains that the study suffers fiom totalising preoccupations-his vision was to determine a writer's total formula, and his vision was determined by the psychological knowledge of the 1920s-Rudler thought manuscripts could reconstitute the sentimental, ideological, and sensorial physiognomies of different writers (Biasi "cntque génétique" 10). Also see Biasi's (9) cornments on Gabrielle Leleu, Madame Bovaw, ébauches et fragments inédits recueillis d'a~rèsles manuscrits, and Mendelson (103) on W.H. Auden, "Squares and Oblongs." types of manuscript studies, the methodology of manuscript analysis is not developed into a full dis~i~line.'~

Concerning the necessity of rigour for the discipline of genetic cnticism, Biasi refers to the exhaustive, and exhausting, nature of the new methodology as opposed to earlier more eclectic approaches:

Malgré une indéniable sensation d'aventure intellectuelle et quelques

trouvailles parfois bouleversantes au cours de l'exploration, l'ampleur et la

difficulté de l'entreprise n'ont d'égal que son austérité, ce qui a découragé

à l'avance plus d'un critique, mais ce qui met aussi la génétique textuelle à

l'abri des effets de mode. C'est cette obsession d'exhaustivité et de

rigueur qui distingue le plus nettement la nouvelle génétique textuelle des

anciennes études de genèse, condamnées par éclectisme à de perpétuels

constats d'impossibilité (Biasi, "cntque génétique" 23-24).

Until the early 1990s' the French method of "la critique génétique" had received little attention in the English-speaking world, dominated as it was by the Greg-Bowers mode1 of textual cntici~m.~*Whde the exact relationship between these two nethods requires Merclarification, Antoine Compagnon's introduction to a special issue of

The Romanic Review (1995)~'attempts a general outline of these differences: while

19 Including Balassi, Beegel, Hinkle, Oldsey and August, and Svoboda. 'O Notable exceptions are both Bowmann and Falconer "Genetic Cnticism." '' The issue contains the proceedings of the April 1994 symposium at Columbia University, New York, which attempted to bring the methodologicai "two solitudes" together in order to initiate a more extensive dialogue. First signs of cross-fertilisation are also visible in French-speaking scholarship. Witness Geert Lemout's detailed survey of Anglo-Arnerican scholarship "La critique textuelle anglo-américaine: une étude de cas" in Genesis 9 (1996), the house organ of the "Institut des Textes et Manuscrits genetic criticism sees its primacy in the field of interpretation, editing remains the focus for textual critics. Genetic criticism refbtes a hierarchy arnong rough drafts and text and regards textual states as coexisting without forming a teleological line towards the printed text. In contrast, textual cntics believe that one stage may be considered better than another, with al1 leading to the definitive text (396).2'

More recently, however, postmodemist editorial theories acknowledge a preference for "a textuality based on dispersal, fragmentation, and pastiche" (Greetham.

Textual Transeressions 528). 23 These theones reject the concept of modemist editions which separate the notes and variant readings from the 'clear text' and sometimes publish the apparatus in separate volumes, even years afier the clear te~t.~"hese postmodernist concepts reveal an increasing affinity with the goals and sensibilities of genetic criticism.

Field of Scholarship:

The scholarship in the field of genetic criticism is vat. While the discipline is a relatively young one, its adherents are remarkably productive. Graham Falconer and

David H. Sanderson's "Bibliographie des études génétiques littéraires" (1 988) already

Modernes'' (ITEM) and "la critique génétique" in Paris. It remains to be seen if these encounters between the French "la critique génétique" and the Anglo-Amencan textual criticism bear hit. " Almuth Grésillon postulates the following pairs of opposition, in which genetic criticism favours the first element: production-product; the art of writing-the finished piece of writing; the tuming into text-the Cpublished] text; the multiple-the unified; the dynamic-the static; the process of enunciation-the enunciated (7). 23 Greetharn especially refers to the scholarship of Peter Cohen, Peter Shillingsburg, and other "textuists" represented in Devils and Aneels: Textual Editing and Literarv Theow. 24 Greetharn gives an example from the field of Middle English-Trevisa's Translation of BarthoIomaeus Anelicus De Pro~rietatibusRem, ed. M.C. Seymour et al. 3 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon, 197YAldershot: Varionun, 1992)-in which "the notes volume was published eighteen years afier the text and by a different publisher" (Textual Transgression 535, note 9). listed almost a thousand items. although the bibliography uses the term "études génétiques" loosely, including some Anglo-American textual criticism. At the sarne time

French scholarship in the field has grown exponentially. Published as the official organ of the "Institut des textes et manuscrits modernes'' in Paris, the new journal Genesis has appeared twice a year since 1992. Each of the odd-numbered volumes contains an extensive bibli~~ra~h~.~'Also worth mentioning are two series of book-length studies.

The series "textes et manuscrits" has been published by the Centre National de la

Recherche Scientifique since 1975.26 The University of Vincennes in St. Denis, outside

Paris. has been sponsoring its series. 'gmanuscritsmodernes'' edited by Béatrice Didier and Jacques Neefs since 1986.27

While the machinery of genetic cnticism is producing a large output in France, studies of manuscript material or textual revision in Canada are minimal, despite a special issue of Canadian Literature in the surnmer of 1989.~~This neglect is ail the more curious since extensive manuscript holdings of Canadian writers invite this kind of analysis at various institutions, including the libraries of the University of ~al~ar~,~~the

'5 See Falconer's forthcoming review "Towards a New Manuscriptology." '6 '6 Including volumes on Heine (1975), Flaubert (1 980), Joyce (1985), as well as other, less unified studies. 27 With volumes on Diderot (1986), Hugo (1 987), Sand (1WO), and three volumes on writings of the French Revoiution (in 199 1, 1992, and 1994)' as well as more recently, a volume on manuscnpts of French surrealist writers of the 1930s (1 995). '8 Only a few article-length studies have appeared, including the draft materials of the following authors: Culleton (Thompson), Duncan (Kelly), Larnpman (Arnold), Laurence (Davies), Leacock (Chopra), Lowry (Doyen and Kim), Mitchell (Mitchell), Munro (Hoy), Pratt (Moyles), Roy (Larouche), Scott (McDougall), and Wilson (Stouck). One of the fust full-length genetic studies of a Canadian text is William E. Moreau's analysis of David Thompson's Travels. 29 The Literary Archives at the Special Collections, MacKimrnie Library, University of Calgary, includes literary manuscript holdings by Earle Bimey, Constance Beresford- University of ~anitoba,"~c~ill ~niversit~," McMaster ~niversit~.~~the National

Library of Canada in ~ttawa?~the University of British ~olumbia,~'and Queen's

~niversit~,~'as well as at the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library, University of or ont o.^^

A genetic analysis of these archiva1 holdings would present the student of Canadian literature with profiles of creative techniques as well as with a deeper understanding of

- Howe, Clark Blaise, Hugh Hood, Robert Kroetsch, W.O. Mitchell, Hugh Mademan, John Metcalf, Brian Moore, Alice Munro, Alden Nowlan, Marjorie L.C. Pickthall, Sharon Pollock, Mordecai Richler, Leon Rooke, Gorge Ryga, Gwen Pharis Ringwood, Aritha van Herk, Rudy Wiebe. See the Web-site at URL: http://www.ucalgary.ca/library/ SpecColl/liarch. htm. University of Manitoba Archives and Special Collections, University of Manitoba Libraries. contains the Canadian Prairie Literary Manuscripts collection including holdings on German-bom prairie writer Frederick Philip Grove, Ralph Connor, Dorothy Livesay, Eli Mandel. Henry Kreisel, Margaret Avison and John Newlove. See at http://www.urnanitoba.ca/academic~support/hives The McGill University's holdings of Hugh MacLennan's Papers are described at http://imago.library.mcgill.cu'macle~an/index.htm 32 The McMaster University's archival collections include the manuscripts and correspondence of Pierre Berton, Austin Clarke, Man Cohen, John Robert Colombo, Marian Engel, Sylvia Fraser, Robert Fulford, Raymond Knister, David McFadden, Farley Mowat, Susan Musgrave, Peter Such. Also among the archiva1 collections are the records of the publishing fims Macmillan of Canada, McClelland and Stewart. See http:l/www. mcmaster.ca/library/campus/readydocs/readyweb.htm. 33 The literary manuscript collection includes holdings on MarieClaire Blais, George Bowering, Robertson Davies, Louis Dudek, Timothy Findley, Jack Hodgins, Daphne Marlatt, Susanna Moodie, Michael Ondaatje, Duncan Campbell Scott, Elizabeth Smart, Audrey Thomas, and Phyllis Webb. See http://www.nlc-bnc.ca/services/elmc.htm. 34 The manuscript collections at the University of British Columbia include the papers of Malcolm Lowry and Ethel Wilson. See http://www.library.ubc.ca/spcol1/rnssSco1.html. 3s Literary manuscript holdings include the works of Bliss Carman, Isabella Valancy Crawford, Major John Richardson, C.D.G Roberts, William Kirby, Archibald Lamprnan, Thomas Chandler Haliburton, F.P. Grove, Mazo De La Roche, and John Glassco. See at http://l3 0.1 5.16 1.7Uspec-col.htm. '' Besides the Margaret Atwood papers, the holdings include literary manuscripts by Earle Birney, Emest Buckler, Leonard Cohen, Mazo De la Roche, W.A. Deacon, Douglas Fetherling, Mavis Gallant, Graeme Gibson, Dennis Lee, Gwendolyn MacEwen, Malcolm Ross, Duncan Campbell Scott, Josef Skvorecky, Raymond Souster, Anne Wilkinson, and Eric Wright. See http://utl2.libr~.utoronto.ca/www/fisher/canad.htm. the emerging structures and developrnent of meaning for crucial works in the Canadian canon, thus opening up new avenues of scholarship.

While scholarship on Margaret Atwood becomes increasingly volurnin~us.~~ publications exclusively focusing on the manuscripts remain rare. None of them exceed article-length and none employ the methodology of genetic criti~ism.~~Jerome

Rosenberg (1977) is the first critic who refers in print to the collection of Atwood papers held in the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Libraq at the University of Toronto. Rosenberg's article-in the special issue of the Malahat Review dedicated to Atwood in its entirety- is more descriptive than analytical and the pnmary focus is on Atwood's professional correspondence "ranging approximately fiom 1959 to 1968" ( 19 1 ). The sarne number of the Malahat Review reproduces in facsimile a few of Atwood's poetry worksheets

(Atwood 1977), but without any comrnentary.

While Rosenberg acknowledges the importance of the collection for Atwood scholars, for many years the manuscript material remained virtually unnoticed. Not until

1987 did Carol Beran's article on the revisions of Atwood's novel Lady Oracle appear.

Two years later, Judith McCombs (1 989) published her first article-length study drawing on the Atwood papers. McCombs' analysis of Atwood's first, unpublished novel Up in the Air So Blue reveals her dedicated exploration of the manuscript collection.

37 See McComb's 700-page annotated bibliography published in 1988. Since then, the annual bibliographies first compiled by Loretta P. Koch, later joined by Barbara G. Preece, and then taken over by Ashley Thomson and Danette DiMarco continue to be published in The Newsletter of the Marearet Atwood Society. '*Among the article-length studies of Atw~od'smanuscripts are Beran, Patton, and Reichenbacher. McCombs is doubtless the scholar most interested in using the collection.39 Her work

continues to provide insights on diverse aspects of the collections, ranging from the

metamorphoses of Atwood's early poetry collection Circle Garnes (McCombs 1994). to

conference papers on the pre-publication matenal to Cat's Eye, and the first continuous

thirteen-page draft fragment to The Edible Woman (McCombs 1995 and 1993. both

~n~ublished).'~

Two article-length studies are of particular significance for this analysis: those of

Marilyn Patton ("Tourists and Terrorists") and McCombs ("Narrator, Dark Self, and

Dolls"). Patton uses the manuscript material on Bodilv Hmin order to show how

Margaret Atwood "incorporates her political activity into her fiction" (1 5 1). By examining Atwood's process of choosing her epigraphs and textual revision, she shows

Atwood "developing her material in more explicitly political directions. moving away from her familiar thernes of personal trauma and renewal, from witty satire of the

Canadian milieu" (164). However. the restrictions in length allow Patton to discuss

Atwood's revisions only in four selected examples: Atwood's selection of epigraphs and the revisions of three scenes. The analysis of Atwood's epigraphs explores the significance of the fairy tale motif and the "self-conscious relationship between fiction and the 'real world"' (1 65) in the novel." In threi: Atwood passages, Patton shows how

39 McCombs is currently writing a book-length study on Atwood's creative process, tentatively titled "Margaret Atwood: Metamorphosis, Evidence, and Archetypes." 40 1 would like to thank Dr. McCombs for kindly sending me copies of these unpublished papers. '' Patton's choice of passages fiom the novei proper is surprising, as none of the three scenes constitutes a key moment of the narrative: Rennie with her fkiend Jocasta at the police pomography exhibition, Rennie's reading of murder mystenes, and her luncheon with Dr. Minnow in a Chinese restaurant. additions to the rough drafh serve to move them "beyond satire to an overt indictment" of

"literary male fantasies about women" (169) and "a sweeping indictrnent of United States foreign policy" (1 7 1). Patton concludes that "Bodily Harm clearly stands as a sign of

[Atwood's] new understanding of the political implications of her writing" ( 171 ).

McCombs's 1993 conference paper on Atwood's thirteen-page prose fragment entitled "The Edible Woman" is important for two reasons. While limited to only a single stage in the process of the writing, McComb's article develops a chronological and biographical Framework which allows the dating of Atwood's pre-publication material.

In addition, the article explores some of the fragment's key motifs. such as the divided female self and Atwood's use of the two dolls.

Other critics include only passing references to the manuscripts collection in their arguments. Like Loma Irvine (1 993,30-3 1), Coral Ann Howells (1 996) also discusses

Atwood's use of epigraphs in Bodilv Harm. More systematic than Patton or Irvine,

Howells isolates 16 different "prefatory quotations" which she arranges in six patterns revealing how each emphasises a different aspect of the narrative (1 07- 108). Like Mary

Kywokulsky Kirtz (1984) and Patton, Howells refers to one of Bodilv Hm's drafi titles:

"The Rope Quartet" and briefly draws out its significance for the novel (Howells 1996,

10%1 10).J2

42 Another aspect of the Atwood papers which has received some critics' attention is Atwood's artwork (box 58 and mapcase). For example, Sharon Wilson's book Margaret Atwood's Faiw-Tale Sexual Politics reproduces some of Atwood's artwork in its 2 1 colour plates and 12 black-and-white prints. At least one critic vehemently denounced Atwood's artwork as that of a dilettante, better left unpublished (Karrasch, 3 1 n. 3 1). Contribution of this Study

No previous study has made use of the manuscript matenal in a systematic,

rigorous. and extended fashion. For a valid analysis of the pre-publication versions of a

work, al1 the drafts, sketches, and other materials need to be considered. This

undertaking represents a labour-intensive task, difficult to accomplish for even a single

work. For both The Edible Woman and Bodilv Hm,such genetic dossiers are created

as the basis for hrther analysis.

Using this inductive method, the analysis of The Edible Woman focuses on

Atwood's control of the distribution of information. The process of revision is

characterised by a gradua1 elimination of information from the text. Frequently. such

information has to be reconstmcted through the reader's own interpretative skills. The

reader will no longer be told about the protagonist's emotional state of mind. Instead, the

reader will have to deduce such affairs from the clues provided in the context.

The analysis of Bodily Hann focuses on Atwood's reworking of the opening

section of her novel into an ever closer and more intense net of motivic allusion.

Revisions of the title as well as additions to the opening passage reveal how the number

of allusions and the linking of the narrative's motifs result in an ever increasing density of

poetic structure. This microgenetic analysis is then complemented by a macrogenetic

anafysis of Atwood's manipulation of the sequencing of narrative episodes.

This thesis allows us a glimpse into the writer's study, giving insight into

Atwood's flexibility as she develops writing techniques and strategies for revision

adapted to the needs of her narrative. At the sarne tirne, the literary scholar will discover new insights into the shifiing sense of creating meaning. Revealing meanhg and interpretations fiom the '?hird dimension" of the text-in its state of becoming alive, statu nascendi-provides an important touchstone for comparing and measuring the interpretations of these literary critics who have only read the text in a single dimension. the novel in its published fom as most readers know it. Chapter 2

The Genetic Dossier for The Edible Woman

The Edible Woman was composed in five distinct stages. Each stage is documented in the material held in manuscript collection MS 200 at the Thomas Fisher

Rare Books Library, University of Toronto. The development of this work mns parallel to Atwood's first attempt at the genre of the novel.' The first stage of creating The Edible

Woman comprises isolated pieces of writing which explore thenies developed in the novel. This period of development is docurnented in preliminary texts which 1 indicate here by small letters, MS.a (MS = manuscnpt) through TS.h (TS = typescript), which cm be dated to 1963 or 1964. While the first stage consists of isolated fragments, the second stage comprises the fint attempt at elaborating these previously explored motives in a different genre, that of the novel. This kemel consists of a thirteen-page typescnpt,

TS.aa, entitled "The Edible Woman" and dated fa11 1964 and spring 1965.2

The third stage encompasses Atwood's first full draft in holograph, MS-A, and in typescript, TS.B, fkom May 1965 to August 1965. In Atwood's life, these dates

' The unpublished manuscnpt of the novel UD in the Air so Blue was written in the winter of 1963-64 (McCornbs "UDin the Air") and can be found in the Atwood Papers, MS 200, Box 16. McCornbs, *'Namator, Dark Self, and Dolls" 1. In "An introduction to The Edible Woman," Atwood writes %e title scene dates fiom a year earlier" [i.e. 1964?] (369). correspond to the period after she completed her first year of teaching at the University of

British Columbia. The revisions of this third stage resulted in a first submission of the

novel's manuscript to the Canadian publishing house McClelland and Stewart in October

1965.' For almost two years, McClelland and Stewart did not respond to the submitted manuscript. In the spring of 1967, Atwood received a Govemor General's Award for her collection of poetry The Circle Game, and the centennial issue of the Toronto Star contained a feature article on her (Reguly). When Atwood enquired about her manuscnpt again, in mid-July 1967, the publisher finally voiced an interest in publishing the novel.'

This renewed interest led to the fourth stage, a complete reworking of the novel while Atwood was teaching at the then Sir George Williams University in Montreal for the academic year 1967168. TS.D and TS.E date fiom that penod. Her university

See the publisher's fom-letter, acknowledging receipt of the manuscript. Atwood Papers, 92.1.3, dated 28 October 1965. From intemal evidence of the three readers' reports from McClelland and Stewart, dated 1966, it can be deduced that the fint version of The Edible Woman submitted to the publisher was a clean copy of TS.B. The third reader. who generally praises the novel objects to Atwood's disguising real narnes: "Why 'Goninto' and 'Rosevale' etc. The city of Toronto is no longer a village and the need for disguise is no more real than in the case of writing of London or New York" (95.1.4). Consequently, TS.B is the 1st draft which still uses these thinly veiled names. For Atwood's version of the delayed publication of The Edible Wornan, see "An Introduction": 1 finished The Edible Woman in November of 1965 and sent it to the publisher who'd displayed some interest in my previous book vo in the Air So Blue]. AAer an initial positive letter, 1 heard nothing . . . afier a year and a haif I began probing and discovered that the publisher had lost the manuscnpt. By this time 1 was marginally visible, having won an award for poetry [the Governor Generai's Award], so the publisher took me out to lunch. 'We'll publish your book,' he said, not looking me in the eye. 'Have you read it?' 1said. 'No, but I'rn going to,' he said" (370). For background to this incident, also see Atwood's letter to Earle Toppings, 6 March [1967], Atwood papers 92.2.14, and, for greater detail, Atwood's letter to her London agent, Hope Leresche, undated [1967], 95.6.1-3. The incident of the lost manuscript is also documented in Sam Solecki's recent edition of Jack McClelland's letters (153-1 59). colleague and fellow writer, Clark Blaise, gave Atwood's novel a critical reading, which led to a significant reshaping of the text.' Blaise's comrnents, which are extant arnong the Atwood Papers (19.38.1~4~)'refer to what is now fragment TSF and the passages which have been pulled from that version for use in later version^.^ By March 1968, the fifth and final stage already included the revisions worked out with McClelland and

Stewart's editor, Pamela ~ry.'

In Clark Blaise's letter to Judith McCombs, 18 January 1986 (McCombs, bbNarrator"n. 5), he recalls this revision as having taken place in 1966. However, after twenty years, he must have erred in the year, for Atwood actually taught in Montreal during 1967/68. In fact, in his autobigraphical1 Had a Father, Blaise describes his contact with Atwood as he was teaching creative writing at Sir George Williams University: "Over lunch one day she admitted that she'd also committed some fiction and asked if 1would read the manuscript of a novel called The Edible Woman." In his autobiography he dates this incident as 1967 and refers to his written comments as "lunch-hour doodles, unkind queries, useless advice, question marks and exclamation points on the margins" (122). The version which Blaise read cm be reconstructed from TS-F and fiom the pages pulled fkom that version which have been integrated into the last draft, TS.H. For details, see Appendix 9: Sternrna of al1 drafts of The Edible Woman. The appendix marks the eiements of the version which Blaise read with the sign: -. ' Atwood letter to Pamela Fry, editor at McClelland and Stewart, 3 March 1968, Atwood Papers, 92.1 .16. For a schematic overview of this time Me,see Appendix 1. Table 1: The Five stages of wnting The Edible Woman

1 stage 1 expianation archive 1 date preliminary texts: MS.a 1963 or '64 1. isolated pieces of writing - which explore themes TS.h developed in the novel TS.aa, titled "The Edible fall 1964 and spring 2. the recognisable beginning of the novel Woman" a thirteen-page 1965 man us cri^t first full drstfi in May 1965 to August holograph and typescript MS.A and TS.B 1965; leads to first submission to the publisher in October 1965 first rewriting: revisions 4. after a cntical reading by acadernic year 1967/68 Clark Blake second rewriting: spnng and summer 1968 5. revisions with editor at McClelland and Stewart

Stage One: lsolafed Pieces of Writing

The first material evidence of the novel, MS.a through TS.h, encompasses a group of texts on different kinds of paper and in different inks. They al1 explore subjects related to the future novel. Eating disorders and market research are especially notable in these fragments. Atwood uses the prose fragment, short prose sketches, the short story, and even a television play to explore these themes. These initial explorations can be viewed as the seeds fiom which the novel grew. The following section will briefly descnbe the drafis content with the emphasis on their material features to document the evolution of the fabric of the drafis. The material properties of the draft, such as the Ends of paper, inks, and even different kinds of typewriter typefaces are crucial to determine the provenance of material, especially in the later versions, when Atwood pulls passages fiom an earlier draft and types a new version of other passages. The composite nature of the result is evidenced in the distinct material features of the drafi's two different layers.

"Food": Fragment MS.a (79.1 1.14-15) MS.a, a first-person account of a narrator suffering from an eating disorder is written on two letter-sized pieces of scrap paper (79.1 1.14-1 5). The scrap paper's verso is headlined "Forest Entomology IV."* On the first page, the headline "Food" is underlined and fourteen lines of text are densely scribbled, taking up a third of the page.

The second page is marked in the upper left corner as "(food ending)" and, in the lower third of the page. nine lines of text are crammed into less than 5 cm of vertical space.

This arrangement results in a particularly dense text per space ratio of 1.8 lines per cm.

On both pages, the text fragments are written in red ball-point pen over the whole page, leaving less than a centimetre of margin and crarnming from 10 to 12 words into each line. The density of the writing, the peculiar use of space, and the red ink-al1 testi& to the intensity of the writing in this fragment of the future novel.

This fragment's first-person account provides a sympathetic approach to one of the novel's main motifs. However, with purely accidental irony, the verso's entornological subject matter, "piercing and sucking mouthparts," provides an ironic contrast to the recto's account of eating disorder. The nmator is a fourteen-year-old girl who remembers when her body began to refuse to eat &ter a school dance. The second page of the fragment has the narrator in hospital with an intravenous attachent. A tray of food brought in by the nurse makes her want to vomit although her stomach is

II Atwood's father, the late Car1 Edmund Atwood, was a professor of entomology at the University of Toronto. completely empty. While this brief exploration of eating disorder does not reappear in

The Edible Woman, it does provide the groundwork for a sympathetic treatrnent.

"The Fight between Me and Them" and 'Tm Not Really What You'd Call Fat": Fragments MS.b (79.11.16) and MS.c (79.1 1.17) In the same box and folder, the next two pages of fragments (79.1 1.17- 18), fragment MS.b and fragment MS.c, give insight into the defence mechanisms required to continue a diet. Written in the imperative, fragment "b" provides advice for dieting, in particular, how to respond to other people's attempts to make them eat. The holograph page, titled "(the fight between me (Me) and ckeRt {Them))" is written in blue ball- point Pen. again on "Forest Entomology" scrap paper with a relaxed spacing. Although the draft has on-the-spot cuts and insertions, the page is far more evenly covered than in fiagment MS.a. The same evenness is tme for the next page, fragment MS.c, "I'm not really what you'd call fat" (79.1 1.17). The writing is in point form, often with revisions apparently made on the spur of the moment.

The holograph page, labelled "I'm not really what you'd call fat" (79.1 1.1 7),

MS.c, is wrirten in blue pen on "Entomology" scrap paper. The text flow is in a single full-page paragraph with ad hoc revisions and a relaxed line spacing: 28 lines covering the whole page (minus 2.5 cm of upper margin) which results in a line spacing of 1.1 lineslcm. The text is written in a first-person, female voice and describes a developing sense of self-consciousness about her body, which results in futile attempts at dieting.

The feelings of ineptitude are triggered by physical ideals manipulated by advertising.

Indeed, the critique of consurnerism becomes an important motif in the finished novel. "Life With the Real Me": Fragment MS.d (79.1 1.18) A holograph fragment of two paragraphs written in black pen, MS.d. is titled in pencil "Life with the Real Me" (79.1 1.18). The fragment is written on swap paper and the verso contains a three-line, typescript fragment of the poem "AFTER THE FLOOD,

WE."~ The handwriting is moderately dense. Twenty holograph lines, including title. cover half the page (14 cm), a ratio of 1.4 lineskm. The bonom half contains three lines in pencil. The passage describes the arriva1 of women "fiorn the office" at a baby shower.

The focalizer figure who opens the door for them appears to suffer frorn a schizophrenic personality; she comments on hearing a "voice that was always with her." Such pathological behaviour also occurs in the first recognisable beginning of the novel, TS.aa

(1 8.2.1-13).

"The Game": Fragment MS.e (79.1 1.19) Another holograph fragment, MS-e, "The Garne" (79.1 1.19) is written in a reddish-brown ink on scrap paper, "Entomology, IV. Piercing and sucking mouthparts."

Two thirds of the page are densely covered with 26 lines of text in 16 cm of vertical space, a ratio of 1.6 lineskm. The title is underlined. The passage concems itself with a married, male character, congratulating hirnself on "being able to spot Annette [his wife] as a potential devoted priestess," suitable for his notion that "the Home should be a shrine." As a description of the husband's misogynist assurnptions, this exploitative vision of his wife becomes essential to the evolving character of Peter in The Edible

Woman.

This poem is part of Atwood's second published collection of poetry, The Circle Game (1 966), for which she won the Govemor General's Award. "Are You the Woman Who Washesn: MS.f and TS.f (79.1 1.1-12) The most extensive prose elaboration of Atwood's prolegomena to The Edible

Woman is in her short story draft, "Are You the Woman Who Washes" (79.1 1.1-1 2). 'O

In this short story, four female office workers take their coffee break together and discuss a case of female neurosis, an event which feeds straight into Atwood's novel.

The material to "Are You the Woman Who Washes?" is dated as 1963/64.'' It consists of a holograph version (79.1 1.7-12), a typescript version (79.1 1.1-6). and a carbon copy of the typescript's first page (79.1 1 .13). The holograph version consists of six folios written on various kinds of swap paper: undergraduate university programme outlines (fols. 7-8), forest entomology paper "the mouthparts of the house-fl y" (fol. 9- 10. and 12). and a half-page from a consumer survey questionnaire testing for the categories

"Cleanness, Whiteness, Clothes, dry, soft, brightness." This fragment from a consumer repon questionnaire provides a clue to the author's own work experience with a market research Company." The ink gradually changes from black to red on the first page of the holograph drafi (fol. 7). By the end of the page, only red ink is used. The writing is dense; 43 lines of text plus numerous inserted phrases between the lines on a letter-sized page, a ratio of 1.5 linedcm. Revisions throughout the holograph are made in red and blue ink, as well as in pencil.

'O According to Atwood's undated, handwritten list "Places Where" (79.15.3, she considered submitîing this short story to a magazine, The Canadian Forum. '' Archival dating, which was done with Atwood's help, according to Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library staff. " See Atwood's entry for 1963/64 in her Curriculum Vitae, held in the manuscripts collection (92.2.1). The six pages of typescript are not a clean copy. The typescript reveals occasional

holograph revisions in pencil. The fint page bears Margaret Atwood's narne in full in the

upper right-hand comer of the page and the emphatic title underlined and in capitals.

Halfway through folio three, the colour of the ribbon changes from dark and crisp to pale.

The typing was apparently intempted. The page must have been taken out and placed

into the same typewriter at a later time as the lines from the first part are not parallel with

the second part, but slightly at an angle. In addition, the two text corpora are not exactly

flush in the left-hand margin.

This description of female office workers, on their coffee break at "the Mars

~estaurant."'~reveals strong parallels with a corresponding scene in the novel's second

chapter. The characters' names do not correspond, but there is an overlap of narnes

between the short story's office girl Marion and the novel's protagonist Marian. Indeed,

the coffee break contains the sarne battle with a waitress later incorporated into the novel.

The topic of a young married couple's choice between having children or giving in to

consurnerism is broached together with the the introduction of the pregnant Gloria. The

piece contains two distinct narratives embedded within the story. The first narrative consists of Anne's story of "the girl that didn't wash," which is nearly identical with the novel's account of a young woman's pathology as narrated by one of the office virgins during the Seymour Swey's Christmas party (chapter nineteen of the novelj. in this fiagrnent, the new office girl adds a second embedded narrative, her anecdote about a Girl

Guide prank: they would randomly cal1 up women to ask them if they were "the woman

l3 A diner, which was called "The Mars Restaurant" and is now "The Mars Café," still exists near the comer of College and Bathurst Streets in Toronto. who washes" and ridicule them if they answered in the negative. Both instances provide a satirical comment on a compulsive obsession with body hygiene.

"The Interviewer": MS.g (79.14.1-6 and 79.13.1-13) The six-page holograph fiagment MS.g, "The Interviewer" (79.14.1 -6), is a short story written in blue ball-point pen on legal sized, mied paper. Despite the ruled paper, the writing looks restless and intense. The draft contains many inserted passages between the lines and gives the impression of being much worked over.

The narrative focuses on the character's fears of having to conduct market research interviews for the first time, going from door to door. The protagonist's dysfunctional marriage is the social backdrop for this fragment. At the age of twenty, she dropped out of university when it became apparent that she was pregnant. Shonly afier. she married the father of her child. Despite the character's youth-she is now 22-years- old-the fragment makes her seem drab, down-trodden, and rniddle-aged.

In the TV-script, fiagment TS.h (79.13.1- 19, the character of the interviewer is given an altogether different motivation for such activity. Miss Gunch, an elderly and lonely woman, poses as a market research interviewer in order to enjoy human contact.

While folio three contains a synopsis of three acts, the typescript of the screenplay only contains the first act. The title page describes the genre as "an hour-long Television Play"

(79.13.1). Thematic relevance to the novel is dernonstrated in the interviewer's routine to be descnbed in Act II. The rkks of being molested by a beer drinking, fat man as well as the social decline of a neighbourhood are themes which recur in the later novel.

While seldom comected directly with The Edible Woman, the series of fragments explore a character's pathological split between mind and body or self and other. These forms of alienation and psychological dilemrna al1 provide a common ground which

awaits Merdevelopment in the novel.

Stage Two: The Proto-version of The Edible Woman, Fragment TS.aa

The second stage of writing The Edible Woman begins with TS.aa. This thirteen-

page fragment represents a quantum Ieap fiom the shorter forrns and fragments, MS.a to

TS.h, to the longer genre of the novel. It introduces a distressed protagonist, at the point

of destroying one of her girlhood dolls. This crisis can be seen as a physical

manifestation of an emotional disturbance caused by issues of femininity and the body as

weIl as by her relationship with Robert, the name given to the precursor of the novel's

Peter.

The first nine pages are written as a typescript. However, folio nine switches to holograph and continues in holograph until folio thirteen. The fragment exemplifies

Atwood's tendency to use any paper at hand. While the writing is linear from fl 43,the paper used varies from scrap paper to different kinds of fine paper with water marks and yellowing paper without water mark. The changing dynarnics in Atwood's writing process are documented as well. The draft begins with a one-and-a-half spaced typescript with occasional holograph revisions. Switching from typescript to holograph half-way through fol. 9, the writing becomes increasingly smaller and intense. The holograph's line spacing, indicated by the ratio lines per centimetre becornes increasingly dense. For the physicai details of TS.aa, see appendix 2. Table 2: Materials Pertaining to the First and Second Stage of Writing The Edible Woman

MS. text fragment archive content format

a first-person account of eating 2 letter-sized sheets "Forest disorder Entomology" scrap paper; red ball- point b "The fight between 79.1 1.16 how to defend dieting letter-sized sheet "Forest Entomology" Me and Them" scrap paper; blue ball-point C "I'm not really what 79.1 1.17 a teenager developing self- letter-sized sheet "Forest Entomology" you'd cal1 fat" consciousness about the body scrap paper; blue ball-point d "Life with the Real 79.1 1.18 baby shower with women from letter-sized sheet scrap paper, black Me" the office prii and pencil; type script fragment on verso ------e "The Ganie" 79.1 1 .19 misogynist attitudes of a husband scrap paper; reddish-brown ink f "Are You the 79.1 1.1-13 short story: fernale office workers 6 sheets scrap paper, holograph, black Woman Who on their coffee break ink changing into red; typescript, and Washes?" carbon copy of the first typescript page 6 The Interviewer 79.14.1 -6 short story fragment 6 legal-sized ruled sheets, blue ball- ruled point Il The Interviewer 1 79.13.1-13 TV-play 13-page typescript on typing paper -- - -- aa The Proto-version of 18.2.1- 13 first novel fragn~entwith the 9 sheets typescript with holograph; for details The Edible Woman characters Robert and Susan, who four sheets holograph see correspond to Peler and Ainsley appendix 2 in the novel Stage Three: The First Two Full-length Venions, MS.A and TS.B"

In May 1965. Atwood began the third stage towards the development of her novel with the writing of a first full-length holograph draft. She had completed her first year of teaching at the University of British Columbia. Written in 1964165, at the beginning of her Vancouver period, Atwood's letters show the productivity of her days:

1 have been writing like absolute bloody hell. So much that 1 can't sit

domto go over some of the old stuff, type it up etc., without irnmediately

producing a new poem. It is getting to be a bore: how do 1 turn off? 1

shall have to make an effort of will & switch myself into prose (1 .60.2).15

This concern for switching her creative activity from poetry to prose seems to have produced the desired effect. By "April something 1965," she reports in a letter to Charles

Pachter that she has been "writing short stories at white heat" (1.612). This outburst of creative energy produced at least fourteen stories in the Atwood papers. Four of these short stones will be kept in Atwood's drawer and surface over 20 yean later as an integral part of her novel Cat's Eve (McCombs 1995, 2).16 From the short story, Atwood finds her way into a different genre, that of the novel.

For the third stage, the novel proper, some isolated material and two full Iength drafts are preserved, a holograph, MS.A and a typescript, TS.B. None of the materials are dated, but we know that Atwood began writing her first full draft of The Edible Woman

lJ For the stemma of al1 drafts to The Edible Woman, see Appendix 9. 15 Atwood to Charles Pachter, 17 October 1964. l6 McCombs, bbNarrator"2, describes Atwood's own explanation for this creative outburst: "the young brain' s capacity for growth; having the first apartment of her own, in Vancouver, and the light in its high, 180 degree open view; and writing aimost every day ." &er her first year of teaching at the University of British Columbia in 1964/65. The folders in box 18 contain a title page drawing (18.1.1 ). various notes ( 18.4.1 -22), and plot outlines according to chapter (18.3.2~). The first hll-length holograph draft, MS.A, is witten in University of British Columbia exarnination booklets, contained in box 18, folders 5 to 1 8. There are two different types of booklets. here called type A and type B.

Atwood uses seventeen type A booklets, thirteen type B booklets, and various loose sheets.17 On the cover, Atwood generally indicates the chapter nurnber and the nurnber of pages actually filled with writing. Single sheets are tom out from or inserted in the booklets. Sometimes, the inserted pages are fiom other exarnination booklets, such as chapter four's three pages, fols. 17- 19, which are inserted in the next chapter ( 1 8.6.13-

17). However, Atwood also inserts pieces of scrap paper, such as the University of

British Columbia sheets fiom a logic exarn, used for the 1st page of chapter 13 and for additions to chapter 14.18 The writing is mostly in black ball-point pen and occasionally the revisions are made in red Pen. Only the recto pages are used for the sequential writing. The versos are reserved for emendations and revisions. such as inserts. In type

A booklets, the versos of the covers are often used for the sketching out of motifs or for an outline of the chapter.

------l7 Type A has a cover page, identifjmg the university, and ten ruled leaves. The sheets of paper are stapled together, fodgthe booklet (chapters 3,6,7, 8, and 12). Type B, slightly shorter than type A, consists of a blank cover page and only six dedleaves stapled together in which Atwood generally starts to write on the first folio, rather than on the inside of the booklet (such as drafts for chapters 4,9, and 14). For details on the use of booklets, see Appendix 3. For details on the removal and insertions of paper, see .4ppendix 4. The first chapter of MS.A, contained in box 18, folder 5, consists of twelve pages

wrjtten into a type A exarn booklet (1 8.5.3- 13). The booklet's cover reads: "The Edible

Wornan / ch. 1" (18.5.2). Around this first booklct is a double sheet, enclosing it (1 8.5.1

and 18.5.14). On the front, the enclosing sheet is labelled in red ink: "PART 1: /

September the Long Weekend" ( 1 8.5.1 ). The back of this double sheet is lefi blank. The

second chapter of this first draft, MS.A, is also written into a type A booklet. It is

labelled on the cover: "ch. 2 1 12pp" (1 8.5.15). Again, the verso of the cover page

(18.5.15~)is filled with notes for the chapter. However, the chapter itself is written into

the inside of the booklet on fols. 16-25, the last page of the booklet's recto and verso fols.

26r and v, and a single, inserted sheet, fol. 27, on which the chapter is concluded. The -verso of this inserted page identifies it as a circular to instructors of a University of

British Columbia introductory course, English 100.

While the first drafi's plot outline is largely consistent with the final version, the chapter structure is different fiom the final novel. The original version of MS.A is divided into twenty-seven chapters. In cornparison to the other chapters, chapters 22 and

23 are disproportionally long. Atwood therefore divides these two chapters by inserting additional chapter breaks into the manuscript, causing al1 the following chapters to be renumbered. The total number of chapters in MS.A is thus increased to twenty-nine.

Still in the 29-chapter format, the second and third venions extant in the manuscript collection are in the form of typescripts, TS.B (box 18, folders 19-32) and its carbon copy, TS.B~(box 19, folders 1-14). While al1 holograph revisions of draft B are copied into drafi B~,additional holograph revisions of B are not copied over into B', which explains why B' is labelled "unaltered copy." Sirice the version B~ is thus identified as a dead end in the sternma of the drafts-a version which is not further revised-it will not be considered for further analysis.

The pagination of draft B is aitered by hand in order to correspond with the pagination of the last draft (box 19, folders 39-48). Most of the second draît, TS.B, is typed on now brinle, yellowing paper, which will undoubtedly produce headaches for conservationists of the collection in the future. An irregularity is the existence of two versions of chapter one's first page. The original version of chapter one's first page in

TS.B (1 8.19.4) is preceded by a more revised version of this single page (1 8.1 9.3). This more revised page is typed on a paper of lighter shade and its carbon copy is contained in

TS. B~ (19.1.1).

Stage Four: TSC and the Completion of the Novel

Beginning with TS.C and the fourth stage of Atwood's writing, the material is much more difficult to trace, because-xcept for the last draft, TS.H in box 19, folders

39 to 48-it no longer consists of complete drafts. Atwood carries out her revisions by pulling rejected passages fiom a drafi which are then lefi behind as fragments. She also retypes sections which require revision. Atwood employs this method presumably to avoid labonously preparing a completely new manuscnpt of the novel. The following physical description deals therefore with numerous fragments and chapters isolated from the final novel. The original order has been reconstmcted by a meticuious analysis of the material evidence, however, in order to reveal the proper genealogical place of each fragment in Atwood's writing process. l9

This fourth stage in the production of the novel begins with the material collected in box 19. folders 15 through 38. This stage comprises several levels of revisions for the novel's final publication. The quantity of material attests to the arduous process of revision before the final ciraft. Draft TS.H in box 19, folders 39 through 48, still contains holograph revisions.

Among the most significant sites for revision is the novel's beginning. The first chapter of the second draft, TS.B (1 8.19-1-1 3). is iürther modified, resulting in the version TS.C, contained in 19.15.1-1 0." The draft is typed on white paper with occasional holograph revisions.

A completely new version of the first chapter is drafied in holograph form, MS.D in 19.20.1-10. The draft is written in a reddish purple pen which bleeds ink ont0 the brittle, yellowing paper. The pen and paper resemble the holograph drafi for the later inserted chapter twenty-three, contained in 19.37.1-1 0. Starting with folio 6, the holograph incorporates text fiom the previous version, the isolated chapter TSC, 19.15.1-

10. From folio 6, MS.D provides copious notes for the revision of the remainder of chapter one as well as of chapters two and three (19.20.1 1-15 and 19.20.16- 17). Atwood indicates the passages to be deleted in typescnpt TS.C and writes out passages which are to be inserted. This new version of chapter one is revised Merin TS.E, 19.16.1- 12.

I9 Geneticists working with more recent matenal which may predominantly consist of cornputer pnnt-outs no longer have the advantage of material evidence, such as differences in typewrïter fonts or holograph emendations in different kinds of pen. 'O The same folder contains a photocopy of chapter 1 in TS.C (W. 15.1 1-20). TS.E. is a fiagment which consists only of the first chapter and scraps from the second.

The paper is a yellowing variety similar to that used for the holograph MS.D. The typeface is different fiom any previous variety: a wider spacing, ten characters per inch. with rounder Ietters. The typescript is littered with holograph revisions.

The next version, TSF in folders 30 to 37, consists of the remnants of the version which Clark Blaise read. Blaise's cornments are extant in the collection in 19.38.1-4."

This version may be easily identified arnong the drafts for its use of non-yellowing, white typing paper. The majority of the pages read by Clark Blaise are pulled and transferred to the 1st version, draft TS.H. The pages remaining in fiagment TS.F are those rejected and which are significantly revised in the next version. Two of the most significant changes suggested by Blaise are the elimination of chapter one-the novel now begins with what used to be chapter two while TS.F leaves the former first chapter behind-and the draft.

Fragment TS.F, introduces an entirely new chapter in holograph (1 9.3 7.1 - 1O)-an additional scene between Marian and Peter, to becorne chapter 23 in the noveLZ2

Chapter one is a carbon copy of an original no longer extant. It is typed on yellowing paper in the same round typeface as TS.E. While chapter two, 19.3 1.1-12, is also written on yellowing paper with round typeface, chapters three, 19.32.1- 13, and four?

19.33.1-5, are written on white typing paper like the rest of the fragments. Chapter four consists only of fragments not used in the last draft. Chapter five in 19.34.1-3 is paginated as 4 1-43. From chapter six, only the beginning (1 9.34.4-6) and the end

21 Blaise's comments are written in pencil on dedpaper tom fiorn a spiral ring book folder. For details on TS.F, see Appendix 6. 22 For schematic overview of these innovations, see Appendix 6 (19.34.7-10) are extant. The pagination is 56-58 and 62-65. The middle section of this

chapter can be found unchanged in the last draft, TS.H, 19.41 -3-5. With few holograph

revisions, chapter seven in 19.35.1-14 is paginated as 66-72 and 72[B]-78. Chapter eight

in 19.35.15- 17, paginated 79-8 1, contains the variant pagination from the previous

version, TS.B., 18-22.lzff, marked in the margins. Chapter nine in 19.35.18-19 is extant

in a fiagrnent fkom the middle of the chapter, paginated as 93-94.

The specific variety of white typing paper and the typeface suggest that the

intermediate version of chapter 11 in 19.1 8.1-5, paginated 1 14- 1 1 8, belongs in this context, despite its placement in a different folder. Chapter fourteen in 19.36.1-5 is

written on white typing paper and includes holograph inserts on yellowing ~aper.~)

Fragments of chapter sixteen are renumbered to seventeen in order to conform with the chapter numbenng in the final version, TS.H. Found in 19.36.6-12, the fiagments also contain some irregular pagination. Page number 167 is removed and placed in the final draft as 19.44.18. Folios 10- 12 are without any pagination. The last chapter of this fragment is a newly inserted chapter twenty-three, stored in 19.37.1-1 0. The holograph is written in a reddish purple pen which bleeds on the yellowing paper but two pages are typed."

Again in a stack of fragments, TS.G, the penultimate draft moves considerably towards the final version. Many of the changes in this penultimate draft are derived from

Clarke Blaise's comments and suggestions. Atwood's holograph remark, writien on brown packing paper in this folder, acknowledges this debt (1 9.24.1). Atwood's

23 For details of the paper and the irregular pagination, see Appendix 6. " Keith 38, already refen to the late insertion of this chapter. penultimate draft drops the previous chapter one and renumbers al1 the following ones, so that the previous chapter two now opens the novel. This new chapter one in 19.24.3- 10 is typed on yellowing paper in a roundish type face. It includes occasional holograph revisions, and is paginated as 1-8. Chapter two, 19.15.1-8, is paginated as 9- 16. Chapter three in 19.26.1-6 is paginated as 17-22. Both chapter two and three are completely redesigned. From chapter four in 19.27.1-2, only two pages exist, paginated 23 and 29.

Chapter five in 19.27.3-9 has irregular pagination. The pagination is revised to conform with the final ersi ion.'^

The ending of chapter seven is contained in 19.27.10-1 1, paginated 64-65.

Chapter nineteen is renumbered as twenty in 19.28.1- 16. The complex ensemble of layers on yellowing and white typing paper is described in appendices 7 and 8. Chapter twenty-two is revised as chapter twenty-four. Two fragments are contained in 19.29.1-2.

A fragment of chapter twenty-five, also on white typing paper, is contained in 19.29.3.

Chapter twenty-five is renurnbered as twenty-seven. Three fragments of the chapter are found in 19.29.4-6, paginated 254[a+b] and 258.

Judging fiom the use of paper and the typeface of the writing, the content of box

19, folder 19, should be treated in this same context. Two sections fiom the final chapter

29 are contained in box 19, pages 280-284 in 19.19.1-5 and 287-289 in 19.19.6-8. Two fiagments fiom the penultimate chapter, still numbered 28, are found in box 19, folder 19, pages 290-291, as 19.19.9-1 0 and pages 295-296 as 19.19.1 1- 12. The last chapter's fkagment, pages 297-30 1, are found in 19.19.13- 17.

" For details, see Appendix 7. The last extant draft, TS.H, still consists of a conglomeration of writing from different stages of the compositional process. By no means cm it be considered a clean and unified copy. Three stages of the writing process are united in this draft: pages pulled fiom the previous draft, TS.G, written on white typing paper in a narrow 12 characters- per-inch typefa~e;~~retyped materiai in a wider and rounder typeface with a 10 characters-per-inch spacing on yellowing paper; and occasional holograph additions. also on yellowing paper.

For the rigorous identification and description of the various layers in this 1st preserved draft. TS.H, it is necessary to compile a long list. However, the passages deserving attention are those in the rounder typeface with a 10 characters-per-inch spacing on yellowing paper. This different typeface indicates retyped material; in these passages Atwood introduces revised versions of her material. This revised material is interspersed with the older layers of the narrative, on white typing paper. The exact distribution of the layering of sheets cm best be seen schematically in the large chart in appendix 8. However, it is worth noting that chapters 1 through 6 and 27 through 3 1 - the beginning and the ending of the novel-are the most reworked at this last stage.

Elements such as the title page (fol. l), the novel's dedication "For J." (fol. 2), the novel's epigraph from The JOYof Cookine, (3), and the section heading "ONE-

-' -' (fol. 4) are al1 transferred from the previous draft on white typing paper. However, the remainder of chapter one as well as al1 of chapters two through five are retyped on yellowing This retyping indicates Atwood's extensive revision of

26 in Appendix 8 indicated with the letter "W." 27 For details of pagination, page breaks, and placement in folders, see Appendix 8. the novel's first five chapters. The last page in chapter five, 19.40.20, is an inserted page

which reads "no p. 40." The folio functions as an important place holder used to

ascertain the irregularity of the pagination.

Begiming with chapter six, most of the chapters of the The Edible Woman

consist of complex layers of rewritten passages-on yellowing paper-and those culled

from the previous draft on white typing paper. The first part of chapter six, 19.40.2 1-22.

pages 4 1 through 43' were retyped on yellow paper, whereas the second part, 1 9.40.23-

34, pages 44 through 55, were taken from the previous draft on white paper. In chapter

seven. the beginning of the chapter-19.4 1.1-2, pages 56 through 57-and the end-

19.4 1.6- 10, pages 62 through 65-were retyped, whereas the middle section-1 9.4 1.3-5,

pages 59 through 6 1-was written on white typing paper. While chapter eight, 19.41.1 1 -

2 1. pages 66 though 76, was completely retyped. chapter nine consists of a melange of

versions once again. The first three folios of chapter nine were retyped, 19.4 122-25, pages 77 through 80. However, the next three folios were taken fiom the previous draft on white paper, 19.41.26-28, pages 82 through 84. On the verso of the last page, fol. 28v, may be found a long holograph insert. The next folio, 19.4 1.29, has no pagination and consists of an inserted sheet of yellowing paper, containing corrections for the previous folio. The remainder of chapter nine, 19.41.30-37, pages 85 through 9 1, is again on white paper.

Chapter ten consists of five parts, altemating between older sections on white paper and retyped sections on yellow paper. Three sections on white paper-the chapter's fust page, 19.42.1, page 92; a passage in the midde, 19.42.4-6, pages 95 through 97; and the chapter's ending, 19.42.8- 10, pages 98 through 100-are interspersed with two passages on yellow paper: 19.42.2-3, 93 through 94, and an inserted page,

19.42.7, without pagination containing revisions for the previous page, folio 7 (page 95).

While chapter eleven, 19.42.1 1 -23, pages 10 1 through 1 13, is on white paper, chapter twelve, 19.42.24-27, pages 114 through 117, was entirely retyped on yellow paper.

The title page for the next section, 19.43.1, without pagination, is taken from the previous draft. Typed on white paper, it reads "TWO-N." The next two chapters are also entirely on white paper, chapter thirteen, 19.432- 14, pages 1 19 through

13 1, and chapter fourteen, 19.43.15-24, pages 132 through 14 1. In chapter fifteen, the chapter's beginning and end are on white paper- 19.43.25-27, pages 142 through 144 and 19.43.3 1 -34, pages 148 through 1 5 1, but these white pages frarne a retyped middle section on yellow paper, 19.43.28-30, pages 145 through 147. Chapter sixteen, 19.44.1-

12, pages 152 through 163, entirely written on white paper, is complemented by an inserted page without pagination, 19.44.13. This insert on yellowing paper contains

Atwood's notes on orthography and her regularising the hyphenation of cornpound nouns on the recto, as well as two short passages for insertion on "p.169" and "p. 260" respectively on the verso. Chapter seventeen altemates between two passages retyped on yellowing paper-19.44.14- 17, 164 through 167, and 19.44.19-20, pages 168 through

169-and two passages on white paper-19.44.18, page 167, and 19.44.2 1-22, pages 169 through 170.

Chapters eighteen and nineteen are only on white paper: chapter eighteen in

19.44.23-32, pages 171 through 180, and chapter nineteen in 19, 19.45.1 - 1 1, pages 18 1 through 19 1. However. chapter twenty saw extensive changes and is retyped on yellow paper in

19.45.12-23, pages 192 through 202~,?~whereas chapters twenty-one-19.45.74-34.

pages 203 through 2 13-and twenty-twv19.46.1- 12, pages 2 14 through 225-are

written on white paper. Only the last page of chapter twenty-two, 19.46.13, page 226, is

written on yellowing paper. The recently inserted chapter twenty-three is typed on yellow

paper, 19.46.14- 19, but the pagination has still not been regulaiised. Chapter twenty-

three is still paginated with Roman numerals as pages i through vi. Chapter twenty-four

comprises two sections written on yellow paper and two on white. The chapter's first

page-1 9.46.70. page 227-and a page from the middle section-1 9.46.24, page 23 1-

are retyped on yellowing paper. The surrounding passages of chapter twenty-four,

19.46.21-23, pages 228 through 230. and the chapter's ending, 19.46.25-28, pages 732

through 235, are typed on white paper. Chapter twenty-five is written on white paper.

19.47.1, page 236, and 19.47.3- 10, pages 238 through 245, except for an inserted yellow

page, 19.47.2. page 237. Chapter twenty-six. 19.47.1 1-1 8, pages 246 through 253, is

entirely on white paper. Chapter twenty-seven consists of a retyped beginning, 19.47.19,

page 254, and a middle section on yellow paper, 19.47.23-24, page 257 through 259, as

well as two passages on white paper, 19.47.20-22, pages 255 through 257, and 19.47.25-

34, pages 259 through 268. Chapter twenty-eight is entirely written on white papcr,

19.48.1- 10, pages 269 through 278, whereas chapter twenty-nine is a multi-layered mixture. The beginning of chapter twenty-nine, 19.48.1 1, page 279, and a full page in the middle of the chapter, 19.48.19, page 287, are written on white paper. Folio 18 in 19.48 consists of two lines typed on yellowing paper onto which are glued two passages on

28 For irregularities of pagination in TS.H, see Appendix 7. white paper without any pagination. The middle section 19.48.12- 17, pages 280 through

285, and the chapter's ending, 19.48.20-22, pages 288 through 289B, are entirely written on yellowing paper. Chapter thirty, 19.48.23-32, pages 290 through 297B, is written entirely on yellowing paper.

The title page for the last section, 19.48.34, without pagination, is written on yellowing paper. It reads "THREE." And the last chapter-chapter thirty-one, 19.48.34-

39, pages 297C-302-is entirely written on yellowing paper.

This description of the rnanuscnpts related to The Edible Woman demonstrates the time, energy, and effort put into this novel, written at the begiming of Atwood's career. Reflecting Atwood's expenence as a successful author of the smaller poetic form. the novel geminated in a series of fragments and genres, ranging from short stories to television scripts. Only after this initial struggle over form, did Atwood decide upon the novel as the genre best able to explore her themes. As a result of Atwood's teaching responsibilities and the lack of assistance, the production of the typescnpt is entirely her own work, leading to various short cuts, which make tracing al1 the steps in the novel's development extremely dificult. However. the five stages of development become clear upon reconstmction. The nurnber of initial attempts and drafls of the novel demonstrate the rigorous honing which Atwood's fust novel underwent. Chapter 3

Creating Gaps: The Genetic Analysis of The Edible Woman

introduction

Margaret Atwood's revisions to her novel The Edible Woman gradually eliminate matenal from the six extant drafts and thus create gaps which the reader is expected to fill. This creating of textual "holes" removes critical information about the protagonist's background as well as references to her fears. It reduces the protagonist's consciousness, self-awareness. and rational insight into her own situation, submerging such knowledge into the subconscious or even denial.

This process of removal results in gaps which the reader fills in while interpreting the text. The author's choice of the technique appears to have been quite conscious. in an unpublished lecture on Susanna Moodie, Atwood explicitly refers to her interest in

"gaps": "What kept bringing me back to the subject [of Susanna Moodiel-and to

Susanna Moodie's own work-were the hints, the gaps between what was said and what hoevered [sic], j ust unsaid, between the lines. "l

Atwood's technique of manipulating and creating gaps in The Edible Woman can best be understood by reference to Wolfgang Iser's theonsing of the use of gaps in

Margaret Atwood, "Susanna Moodie." Atwood Papen, 91-4.2-3.

5 1 fictional texts. In The Act of Reading, Iser cites Virginia Woolf when he introduces the concept:

What is missing fiom the apparent trivial scenes, the gaps arising out of

the dialogue-this is what stimulates the reader into filling the blanks with

projections. He is drawn into the events and made to supply what is meant

From what is not said. What is said only appears to take on significance as

a reference to what is not said; it is the implications and not the statements

that give shape and weight to meaning (168).

Gaps incite the reader to construct meaning and thus necessarily encourage the reader's more active participation.

While the reader's reconstruction of gaps may not duplicate the material eliminated in the process of authorial excision. the underlying principle of gaps is crucial to understanding both authorial revision and the reader's reconstruction of the text.

Atwood herself refers to the necessity for the "active participatory work of the reader."

She confi~rmsthe reader's active role in stating that reading is "less passive than TV or movies." To read is "to join in the actual creation, the re-creation, of the experience of the book. In other words you are asking the reader to put in some ~ork."~Atwood's rhetorical strategy of delegating responsibility to the reader is therefore envisaged as an emancipatory process, freeing the reader fiom the author's own interpretative suggestions. Her use of this technique, as revealed in the manuscripts, offers us an

"A Trip Through the Memo: The Act of Writing," Cr& Lecture, Port Townsend, 1984 (90.40.5r). insight into the creation of The Edible Wornan and provides new depths to the novel's

interpretation.

An analysis of Atwood's revisions hinges on the what and how of her politics of

naming. The first task of this analysis, therefore, is to explicate Atwood's choice of

characters' names in order to indicate how Atwood carefully controls the information

revealed to the reader. The second element of analysis is Atwood's revision of her

protagonist's psychology. The key motif of the protagonist's fear disappears fiom the

surface of the novel, when Marian loses her moments of introspectioii and self- recognition. Although Marian's anxiety continues to motivate her seemingly erratic behaviour, the reader is no longer explicitly toid. Finally, this analysis reveals Atwood's gradua1 rebalancing of the power politics between Marian and the three other main characters: her room-mate Angela/Ainsley, her fiancé Peter, and her side-kick Duncan.

The Politics of Naming Atwood's carefully controlled process of naming clearly possesses significance throughout the drafts for the reader's interpretation of al1 the major characters. Even the name of a minor character such as Len, Marian's University fnend, is carefully chosen.

Within the first draft, MS.A, Atwood experiments with three different versions. A perhaps too obvious allusion to Len's prime characteristic-chasing young virgins-the

1st narne "Hunter" (1 8.18.23~)is eventually rejected. Instead "Slunk," and then "Slank," prevail(18.15.4 and 18.22.5). This deletion of obvious clues for the reader is charactenstic of Atwood's process of revision. By uncovering the cirafis' hidden layers in naming, we can also discover the interpretative implications for a character. Although retaining their first names-Duncan and Peter-throughout the drafiing, the two male characters' surnarnes undergo significant revisions. Duncan's personality in the drafts is originally endowed with greater vulnerability than he later displays. Atwood emphasises his skinniness by choosing a light-weight sumame, specified in the drafts as

"Fluevog" (1 8.1 1.6). Duncan's original last narne bears a similarity to the Danish word for fly. "flue"; the word for "flyweight7' in Danish is "fluevzegt." While still described as al1 skin and bones, Duncan loses the indirect reference to his slight weight through his sumarne. In the margins of her second draft, TS.B, Atwood considered the longwinded name "Duncan Fluevog Lucamie" (1 8.18.23v), which is consistent with that draft's tendency to overelaborate. The explicitly symbolic naming of his character is eliminated in the course of revisions. In losing his last narne altogether and being deprived of farnily origins, Duncan also becomes a more generic and perhaps more enigmatic character.

Just as the revisions of Duncan's name obscure some of his charactenstics, so too do the revisions of Marian's fiancé's narne. In the first draft, MS.A, Peter's last name

"Voland" clearly indicates darkly negative implications. The archaic German word

'Voland" means "the devil."' Atwood intends this negative connotation: in a list of several possibilities for the character's last name on the reverse of the novel's first drafi,

"Peter Voland" is explained as "evil fnend." However, Atwood's alternative spellings

"Wollend, Woolend, Wollender, Woolander, Woolender" (18.18.28~) move the reader away from an explicitly negative characterisation. Like Duncan's last name, Peter's too

Kluge's etymological dictionary traces the word "Voland" back to Middle High and Middle Low Geman sources, identified as a presumed participle to Old Norse "fzla," to fnghten away. It may be worth remembering Atwood's interest in the German language as documented since 1965 by taking a summer course at UBC,see appendix 1, note. sounds Scandinavian. Indeed, the Copenhagen telephone directory lists the variant

"Volander." The obvious Scandinavian interpretation would be "Hvo" (pronounced

"vo") which is an old version of "where," for "hvor" in present-day Danish. This interpretation would underline Peter's role in Marian's confusion about the direction her life is taking. While the identification itself is not part of the narrative, the undisguised version of evil fiiend, "Voland," provides a more overt evaluation of Peter than the final nove17sversion. While the first draft designates him as the nove17svillain and a negative stock character, the final novel does not present such a directly labelled interpretation."

The significance of the "how" of narning is most evident in Atwood's drastic rewriting of the room-mate's first name and surname. Throughout the fint drafi an ironic choice, "Angela Tusch" (1 8.10b.2 1 and 18.15.16), implies the moral and intellectual infenority of the room-mate to Marian. The first narne "Angela" is clearly an ironic allusion to the room-mate's scheming behaviour in seducing Len. Like a female version of Shakespeare's Ange10 in Measure &r Measure, Angela's true character is far from the innocence suggested by her angelic narne and appearance. The room-mate's duplicity- the discrepancy between seeming and being-continues in the final version. However? the change in her first narne fiom &Angela'' to "Ainsley" eliminates the explicit irony.'

4 I am grateful to Henriette Holm, University of Copenhagen, for her help with the etymology of Peter's last name. The rarity of the variants of his name in Canada is attested by a review of the 1996- 1997 Metropolitan Toronto phone book. None of these variants are listed as narnes in the Toronto area; the closest recorded listing is for "Wooland," a variant which Atwood does not use. The thirteen-page pre-novel draft, TS.aa, calls the protagonist's fiancé Robert. At the end of writing her first draft, MS.A, Atwood experiments in the margins with "Arlene" and "Irene" (1 8.18.2 1). The latter is Greek for "peace" (Stewart) which would indicate another ironic usage. In the thirteen-page pre-novel drafl, the protagonist's room-mate is called "Susan." Atwood's ruminations over the room-mate's narne finally lead to the version "Ainsley

Tewce," which replaces the previous name throughout the typed manuscript of the second drafL6

The negative connotations of the room-mate's narne are underlined in the early drafis by Atwood's choice of "Tusch" as a sumame. The brashness of her character is underlined by the similarity of the narne to 'bhsh," defined by the Oxford English

Dictionary as "an exclamation of impatient contempt or disparagement" or even

"backside," noted as "chiefly North American usage."

Allusions to the room-mate's dominant and manipulating character are also implied in the sumame's altemate meanings, one being "to pull or drag (a heavy object, especially a log) along the ground." In its alternate meaning 'nisk," the narne "Tush" also opens up obscure or obsolete meanings, such as "to show the teeth" and "to beat the bushes in (a wood) in order to rouse the game," which reinforces the room-mate's aggressive qualities. Each possible meaning enriches Ainsley's relationship with Len with significant semantic subtexts. These subtexrs tend to be either negative, such as

"backside," or they underline the room-mate's manipulative qualities. In Atwood's changing of "Angela Tush" into "Ainsley Tewce," those clearly negative connotations disappear. The reader has to decode her character by other means.

For a possible source of inspiration for the room-mate's new name, compare the name of the women's residence at Victoria College, University of Toronto, Atwood's alma mater: "Annesley Hall." Naming the Protagonist Atwood's interest in the naming of her charactee is particularly visible in the

great care she takes in naming her protagonist. Here, Atwood's revisions tie in with a

reconceptualisation of her protagonist's family background and a carefbl control of how

much of it is to be revealed to the reader. The first and the second drafts both give

"Moorehouse" as the protagonist's last name (1 8.13.8 and 18.27.16). The component

"Moore" suggests a rural background-as derived from "moor" as "a tract of unenclosed

waste ground, a heath" or now obsolete "a marsh." The reader might well imagine a

Brontë-like upbringing for the protagonist.7

In fact, the second draft's opening even specifies for the protagonist a small-town

upbringing with its own particular values and conventions, such as a suspicion of

university education:

Her parents, who had bought it [a university education] for her, and the

sideiine fnends and relatives km& in &at {the} town which had keme

(grown) in memory remote and idyllic and filled with nothing but green

lawns and even greener people, had regwkht (thought

of it} as a slightly dubious patent-medicine: though advertised as a

panacea[,] it was not, their attitude seemed to Say, good for anything in

particular. . . . [Tlhey watched for {the} possible effects {of the dnidge)

with (a quiet) suspended anxiety, as if they were waiting #&& {to see

' Moore Avenue is a Street close to the Atwood family home in Leaside, now part of Toronto. whether she would turn purple or dl) her teeth te {would) fa11 out

(1 8.

The environment of the tom, "green lawns," has shaped its population into "even greener people." an assertion which underlines the importance of Marian's small-tom background and the nature of environmental influences, such as a conservative outlook on life in general and the range of female role models in particular. At the same time, the passage underlines Marian's sense of being watched, feeling the expectations of parents,

"sideline fiiends" and relatives. Laying the foundations for Marian's later paranoia, the key motif of "fear" becomes already imbedded in the narrative in the first chapterng

To fit with this surname's emphasis on the protagonist's roots, certain references-such as the 'back-home' aesthetics of an "out-house art" calendar-are stil1 present in the first drafi, but carefully eliminated in the second:

I'm rather proud of that calendar, it's one of the few surviving examples of

genuine outhouse art, a nauseatingly-sweet little girl in an old-fashioned

dress sitting on a swing with a basket full of chemes and a white puppy-1

get one every Christmas from a third-cousin who nins a service-station

{back home} (1 8.23.3).

There are no standardised conventions for the representation of rnanuscnpt revision in print. 1 use the following conventions: (1) "-' indicates that text is cancelled in the manuscript, (2) "{text in braces)" indicates that the text is inserted into the manuscript, and (3) "[text in square brackets]" indicates my editorial comment. For other conventions of manuscript transcription, see Kline, Bowers, or Gronemeyer's et al. genetic Klopstock edition. The first clraft's introductory chapter delivers Marian's narrated introduction to her situation, a dry and non-dramatic exposition. The advice of Clark Blake, who read the manuscript and provided detailed comment (1 9.38.1)' led to its elimination. This excised passage provides an important locus for the image of exaggerated femininity which the protagonist grew up with and eventually sets herself against.1° However, the protagonist's pride in possessing this calendar suggests a distance fiom such provincial values. In order for the calendar to work as a "camp" object, she must first overcome those values, through a fom of ironic distance and emancipation, which Atwood's protagonist clearly has not yet accomplished elsewhere in the narrative. This inconsistency in character development is therefore eliminated.

The moral component of this small-town upbringing appears in the drafts' references to a void left behind after Marian's desertion of her United Church of Canada

Sunday school beliefs. The drafts allude to the conflict between Marian's notions of a left-Ieaning intellectual and her own upbringing:

As 1 stood under the trees waiting for the next bus 1 ntas meditated darkly

{upJonthe recalcitrance of the matenal world and the wide gap that

separated{s} it fiom the moral one. In other words 1 was disgusted ai

{with the (present} state of) things in general without being able to blame

anybody in particular, one of the {recurrent daily} hazards ef (that result

fiom} abandoning one's United Church Sunday-school beliefs ( 18.20.2).

While this passage, slightly revised, is already contained in the first draft (1 8.5.16), it disappears fiom the narrative into Atwood's clip-board folder of eliminated passages

(1 9.17.4). The passage, first conceived even earlier (1 8.5.16), might have turned Marian into an introverted thinker prone to intellechialising, a quality more fitting to the trio of

'O While the caiendar reference is excised here, Atwood recycles the motif for use in the title story in her short-story collection Bluebeard's Emg. graduate students-Duncan and his two room-mates-than to Marian's disonented state during the novel.

The second component of the onginally projected last narne. "Moorhouse," suggests the protagonist's involuntary domesticity. A note in the margin focuses on domesticity when calling the protagonist "Marian House" (1 8.18.23~).Domesticity as a contentious issue is also introduced in the first drafi's final chapter. The protagonist presents Duncan with the remainders of her cake and claims "Oh yes; actually 1 am rather domestic" (1 8.18.28). However, the sentence is eventually changed to "1 like to cook when 1 have the time" (19.48.40). The revision does not change the domesticity of

Marian's life, but Atwood leaves it to the reader to give a name to this quality. She does not put the word "domestic" in Marian's mouth. Indeed, Atwood avoids a surname,

"House," which could seem too obvious and leaves it to the reader to discover this quality.

Further traces of domesticity can be found toward the end of the narrative. As

Peter is to anive for his 1st interview with Marian, Atwood cuts the reference to

Marian's wish to avoid appearing too housewifely and Victorian: "-

" (1 9.48.24). The revisions obscure these insights, however. Being Victorian and housewifely are qualities that neither the protagonist nor the author wants to be associated with. This doubly desired elimination of Marian's home and upbringing becomes apparent in the following passage where she relates a dream: ' '

'' Regarding the dream-like quality of the passage and the importance of the subconscious, compare Atwood's comment about the Harvard Department of English [Slhe did not feel that she was even actually back in it [the drearn]. The

schools and the houses and the ponds and fields where she had once

learned the names of things were {all) fiozen over, and she was walking

on the other side of the ice. She did not want to go back (18.28.3).

Marian explicitly refuses to return to her childhood. In cutting this passage, Atwood covers up these traces altogether. In this instance, the wishes of protagonist and author appear to coincide.

Repeated references to Marian's childhood with its Victorian values sprinkle the novel's second drafi. They hark back to Marian's childhood reminiscences by expressing ber yearning for safety, which parallels the envisioned outcome of her present relationship. In an evocative image, Marian describes her feelings:

1 (think mostly 1) want to be safe. 1 remember 1we

used to play garnes like Red Light, Green Light and Hide-and-seek [sic]

and al1 the others that had chasing and somebody was It; we would set up a

Home, {a tree or side of the house) and once you got there

and touched it you were safe; Home-free, they called it. 1 think I'rn afraid

that 1'11 {finally) get there and find {out) it isn't true at dl, {that they've

changed it;} no matter what 1 do 1'11 find out th& 1 really have nothing'

(1 8.32.8).

This excised, nightrnarish passage descnbes Marian's dilemma, but in the imagery of childhood charactensed by pursuit and flight. Given this context, the image employed

Literature as "a sort of Jungian hot-house." Atwood, "Susanna Moodie," Atwood Papers, 91.3.2. expresses her anxiety about mamiage to Peter as being caught and losing her freedorn.

Pondering possible solutions, Marian voices her fundamental desire to be fiee. The

"Home" set up in the children's game as a safe haven stands in ironic contrast to Marian's struggle for freedom fiom domestic captivity, the fate of her fnend Clara.

Marian's sense of being stuck in the position of permanent victim is also alluded to in the two components of "Moorehouse." The meaning of the verb "rn~or"-~'to secure (a ship, boat, or other floating object) in a particular place by means of chains or ropesW-read together with the second component "house" suggests Marian's destiny as a domesticated existence within the role of a confined housewife.

Marian's final surnarne is not introduced witil the last of the six drafts. In a holograph note for revisions-when Marian goes to the laundromat in chapter thirteen- the name change from "Moorehouse" to "McAlpin" is noted for the first time (1 9-2125).

Consequently, the change is also accomplished in a note for revision of "p. 187," chapter eighteen (1 9.22.1 1).12

Schematic view of the Prota~onist'sname change:

Passage A Passage B (landlady addressing Marian in (announcement of her engagement

l2 W.J. Keith notes the inconsistencies in the spelling of the protagonist's last name and how the problem even spilled over into the novel's various published editions (39-40). Some holograph versions of the protagonist's first name suggest the spelling

"Marion" rather than "Marian." The drafts even contain instances in which the two

versions coexist. In some drafts, the superimposition of the two letters 'a' and 'O' makes

i t virtually impossible to decide the author's final intention ( 18.1 8.X). Whether

intentional or not, the rarer fonn, "Marion," evokes associations with a later passage in

the drafts where she sees herself as being manipulated like a marionette.

Coinciding with the change in the protagonist's last name fkom "Moorehouse" to

"McAlpin," the revisions eliminate traces of the former sumame's two connotations: her

small town upbringing and domesticity. Disappearing with these revisions are

associations with traditional notions of femininity as well as allusions to small town

morals and conventions. Also gone are the protagonist's admission and acceptance of her

own domesticity. This revision in fact removes much more. In Atwood's later novel

Bodily Hm,the protagonist's formative, childhood expenences become an established

point of reference for her Merdevelopment. This point of reference is repeatedly

interwoven with that novel's main narrative. In contrast, in The Edible Woman, Marian's

upbringing and family background are largely ousted from the drafts.

By eliminating the specific details of the protagonist's background, Atwood forces

the reader to construct the motives for Marian's behaviour. The protagonist's suffering

from the pressures of social convention stands in direct contrast to her own persona1

needs. However, neither is formulated in the final version. Importantly, by erasing the specifics of Marian's background, this increased generality encourages readers to more

easily identie with the chamcter. Especially significant is the elimination of the clearly defined patterns of femininity which would indicate the protagonist's values. This gap, in particular, frees the readers to decide for themselves Marian's motives for her seemingly

irrational behaviour. The author gives clues, but does not confer omniscience. The

reader's uncertainty reinforces the protagonist's confusion and establishes an atrnosphere

of bewilderrnent.

The Pro tagonist's Psychology

Atwood's revisions significantly transfomi the protagonist's psychology.

Coinciding with the change of name, Atwood rewrites her protagonist fiom being a character who consciously recognises her dilemma to a personality who experiences distress only through her subconscious, in the rebellion of her body. This delegation of

behavioural motives significantly changes the reader's perception of her character.

Ultimately, Marian's ignorance of the reasons for her own unhappiness makes the violent reactions of her body more plausible: it is the symptomatic expression of a rebellious subconscious, a phenornenon which coincides, at least partidly. with more recent clinical definitions of anorexia nervosa. l3 The expression of Marian's dilemma is transferred fiom the rationai to the emotional.

The Naming of Fear The early drafts contain numerous explicit references to the ongins of Marian's uneasiness, especially through the recurring motif of Marian's fear. In fact, the fvst two drafts, MS.A and TS.B, establish fear as the key motivation for Marian's erratic behaviour. Even before introducing the protagonist's relationship with men, the narrative

" See Howells, Margaret Atwood, who States that "the etiology of her disease actually differs quite markedly from the clinical diagnoses as summarised by Noelle Caskey in her considers an undercurrent of the character's existential fear after leaving university. In

the first draft's introductory chapter, she finds it hard to make persona1 and professional

choices. Atwood adds fear of imminent life and career choices to the protagonist's

background. Moreover, her university education provides no distinct orientation: "It had

not pointed her firmly in any specific direction" (1 8.19.3). Referred to in the second draft's opening passage, these moments of emotional strain are initially taken light-

heartedly :

But her uncertainty about her orientation, since it was apparent only within

a fairly large perspective, didn't bother her much except at those bleak

metaphysical moments when she was caught in a rush-hour line-up at the

bus stop or had a stornach-ache fkom eating too much for dinner

(18.19.3~).

Atwood's rewriting eliminates this expression of existential feu-Marian's uncertainty about her persona1 and professional f~e-fiom the novel's opening passages. The reference to Marian's experience of fear is linked with the first reference to Marian's troublesome relation to the ingestion of food. However, the excised passage produces a gap which is only partially filled at a later point in the narrative with a subtle allusion to this fear, with Marian's apologetic phrase: "What else can you with a B.A. these days?"

(1 8.7.17). In the published novel, this existential fear about a woman's limitations for a professional career are transferred to Ainsley (EW 17).

--- -- historical account 'uiterpreting Anorexia Nervosa'." (46). For a different view of the symptoms of anorexia nervosa in the novel, see Cameron. Atwood's use of this gap technique appears when she removes explicit labels fiom her text while revising the moment of Marian's engagement. This key scene shifis the relationship between Marian and Peter fiom a summer flirtation to a serious commitment. During a Jane-Rre-like thunderstorm, the second draft clearly indicates the emotional impact of Peter's proposal of marriage. While a flash of lightning illuminates the couple, the second drafi reads: "As we stared at each other in that brief light 1 could see my own fear mirrored in his eyes" (18.22.23).lJ Atwood labels the engagement a fearfùl experience, to which Marian responds with an increasingly evident eating disorder. While the first two drafts place fear at the centre of this relationship, the next revision eliminates any reference to Marian's fear. It is instead replaced with a more elusive recognition of her own mirror image: "1 could see myself, small and oval, mirrored in his eyes" (TS.F, fragments, 19.35.17).15

A similar vein of revision cmbe recognised in the next scene, occumng the following day, when Marian shares the news of her engagement with her room-mate. The

- l4 Note how Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre functions as an intertext. Like Marian, Jane Eyre becomes engaged during an approaching thunderstorm with a lightning bolt, intempting the bride-to-be's reply to the proposal (vol. 1, chapter iii, 259). The element of pathetic fallacy in Brontë is strengthened through the author's earlier emphasis on the nature of presentiments (vol. II, chapter vi, 222). In Atwood, the fallacy takes on an ironic tone which underlines her tongue-in-cheek parody of the Victorian model. The lightning-struck chestnut tree in Brontë is paralleled with the damaged hedge in Atwood. Both function as syrnbols for the ill-starred nature of these relationships. l5 This change fiom Atwood's explicit reference to fear to the explosively connotative image of mirrors at the moment of Marian's and Peter's engagement will particularly fascinate psychoanalytic cntics who engage with the theories of Kristeva, Lacan, and other theorists interested in the significance of the so-called mirror-stage of human development. For the significance of the mirror image in The Edible Woman, which "succeed[s] in powemilly exposing the rhetoric and politics of women's entrapment" (23), see Bromberg. Stovel argues that the mirror motif "symbolize[s] . . . the distoned self-image which the heroine ultimately exorcizes" (5 1). first draft again specifies Marian's emotional response through the key motif of fear: "'It scares,' 1 said { faithfully, ) 'the plasm [sic] out of me"' (1 8.9.14). in the next sentence,

Manan's rnisgivings about her engagement symbolically intertwine with her consurnption of food as she sits down to breakfast:

1 eeeftee f [insert from fl3v:l whacked

my egg against the side of rny bowl for emphasis, & somehow got my

thumb h* [-!!. k

stuck into it. It drooled glutinously; it wasn't done

after all} I hastily extracted the rest & stirred it up (1 8.9.14).16

While this early version stresses the parallel between Marian's metaphor for expressing fear-"It scares the plasm [sic] out of me"-and the egg's equivalent, "[it] drooled glutinously," the relationship of fear to food also signals the origins of Marian's anorexia.

Atwood's second draft muddies Marian's clear insight into her own admission of fear. While the statement itself remains, the revision turns the direct admission of fear into a subjective and tenuous expression: "1 said, smiling, and wondered, as soon as I'd said it whether {or not} it was tnie e+r+ety'(1 8.23.3). This revision reveals a significant pattern for the changes in Marian's characterisation. Marian's emotional response-a moment of clear self-discovery-is subrnerged again; her fear disappears under a layer of cheerfùi optimism. In the final revision, Marian fears her room-mate's disapproval more than the engagement itself (EW 84). Marian appeals to the room-mate's understanding

'' The astensks in the quotation enclose cancelled words of a fùst layer of revision. They indicate a cancellation in a passage which is then cut altogether in the second revision. by claiming it was her subsconscious wish to get engaged al1 dong, thereby ending the discussion; in the final version, only the symbolism of the undercooked egg survives.

The explicit expression of Marian's turmoil over her engagement has been excised from the passage.

The close association between Marian's fear and her engagement to Peter constitutes a continuing thread in the early drafts. The first draft describes "fear" not only as a result of her engagement, but also momentarily considers 'fear' as the reason for becoming engaged. The passage is stnick out again in the first full draft:

(18.10a.16)

While Marian's insight is cut fiom the same draft, this allusion-to the underlying convention of marriage as the expected goal of life-continues to work its influence in the narrative. The text employs the same ideology when Marian reacts-"faintly appalled" (18.28.15jto the information that Duncan's room-mate Fish should be still single at age thirty. In the last draft, this negative response is revised to a slightly less radical tone, "Marian felt compassion" (19.45.28). However, marriage remains an expected goal in life. In the same vein, this value judgement is repeated and then eliminated in the form of an epithet:

Marian was aware [that] her own status arnong them [the office workers]

was doubtfûl-they knew that she was on the ewhbk fiinge2s* of

matrimony ( 19.45 -2). While the underlying social values-the privileging of marriage over life as a single-

continue to be present in the novel, these pressures of social convention are no longer

expressly articulated.

Fearing Bhebeard An additional example of how gaps engage the reader's imagination to decode

Marian's fear is Atwood's use of the Bluebeard motif. Reinforcing overt allusions to

Marian's anxiety about marriage, the first two drafts repeatedly refer to the Bluebeard

theme at an early stage of the narrative. This theme provides the narrative with the image of the superficially benevolent bridegroom whose true identity as a multiple wife

murderer remains initially hidden. The groom's tnie identity does not emerge until afier

the maniage, when the young bride disregards her husband's command to refrain from opening the castle's seventh and last door. The Bluebeard myth illustrates the theme of murderous male power over female victims. It also expresses female existential fear of subjection to male dominance and of a bridegroom's hidden identity.17

The Bluebeard theme as an expression of male violence and female fear figures prominently in many of Atwood's works, especially her short story collection,

Bluebeard's Erre, and the novel Lady Oracle. In The Edible Woman, Bluebeard references have a strong presence in the cirafis, but Atwood's revisions reduce their prominence, especially in the narrative's early parts. Instead, the revisions give the

l7 Frenzel traces this ancient literary theme back to the early Middle Ages, to the sixth- century Père Albert Le Grand. Through Charles Perrault's seventeenth-century collection of French fairy tales, the theme entered modem literature. Grétry, Tieck, Offenbach, Maeterlinck, Bartok/Baks, and Doblin continue the tradition. For sweys of the Bluebeard motif in world literature, see Frenzel and Herzog. For the Bluebeard theme in Bluebeard theme prominence towards the end of the narrative, at the climax of the party scene. In the final version, the protagonist no longer has conscious recourse to the use of such symbolic expressions of her anxiety at the beginning of the narrative. The final version rather refocuses the theme by having Marian passively suffer fiom its implications in the hallucinatory climax of the party.

The first exarnple of the theme7suse in the narrative sets up the relationship7s cataclysmic potentiai at an early stage of the narrative. The first two drafis plant the seeds of Marian's anxiety, even before Marian and Peter7simpulsive and alcohol-induced engagement. In both drafis, Marian expresses doubts about Peter's character before the evening at the Park Plaza. The use of the Bluebeard theme also illustrates Marian's mechanism of denial in which she is aware of the problematic nature of her relationship at some level, yet chooses to ignore these early warning signals.

The motif is prepared for readers with the question of Peter's identity. Marian speculates about the range of Peter's responses to his last bachelor fiend's impending marriage :

[Peter] would either be recklessly gay, playing the no-string-attached

devil-may-care young-man-about-town, or kpehdy {dismally) but

stoically morose, playing the ail-the-world's-conspinng-against-mebut

1'11-keep-a-stiff-upper-lip-nomatter-whatromantic hero of unforninate

fatal destiny. Or he might be trying both at once, a double mask, the mask

Atwood, see Onley, Grace, "Courting Bluebeard," and Wilson, "Bluebeard7s Forbidden Room." of blithenng-idiot laughter concealing the mask of saturnine hopeless woe

(18.2 1.20).

This second draft deepens Marian's probings, instinctively providing an acute analysis of

Peter's penchant for role play and superficiality. While the passage denies Marian the curiosity to explore Peter's forbidden layers, it does raise the essential question of female transgression which could peel away layers of carefully constructed male identity, an essential component of the Bluebeard theme: "and beneath that? It was the last layer that

{sometimes) tempted me, a temptation 1 had so far resisted." As the 1st layer of

Peter's identity parallels the forbidden 1st door in the myth, the passage anticipates a horrific discovery. Simultaneous denial and acknowledgement of the temptation create a tension and anticipation of the coming crisis which Atwood no longer details in the published version. In the first and second drafts, while the crisis is building, Marian still claims to ignore the potential of danger and abide by the male-imposed rules:

As long as it was le%undisturbed 1 could retain the choice of believing

that Peter wasn't assuming any pose at ail, that the apparent surface was

the real shape of the depths éelesu (beneath}; whch most of the time [was

what] 1 wanted to believe. It made responding easier. . . . 1 had little

desire to peel off the final veneer and discover possibly that there were no

depths; that 1 was staring into empty space or standing with my eyes flat

against &e a featureless concrete wall. (18.2 1.20) [This second drafl

expands the version of the first draft].

The passage places her in the early stages of the Bluebeard plot, for the bride does not yet give in to an exploration of her husband's tme nature, yet the fear-inducing knowledge about looming dangers is clearly present. As long as the seventh door remains untouched.

Bluebeard's reputation remains spotless.

The first drafl fully elaborates this stage of Marian's denial. She still claims to lack the curiosity to explore Peter's hidden layers. However, as a safeguard against violation, the conclusion of this introspective thought explicitly labels her musings with

Bluebeard rhetoric, clearly reinforcing the potential danger. About Peter's rnasks, she adds:

That was the sort of thing 1 didn't need to know. So far we had got along

fairly smoothly because W {each) of us had avoided that species of

{Bluebeard's-castle) curiosity about the other; our demands upon one

another were relatively few and simple. . . . By mutual agreement we lefi

the forbidden rooms & even those close to them unexplored, and this,

as well as the facts that he was in several ways tRitatiftg {annoying}&

uncongenial . . . rarely disturbed me in the least. I

{didn't think he was) close enough W-FFW to be gettti (regarded as} an

extension of and thus a comment on my own personality -(18.8.3-4).

Marian's analysis judges Peter to be an impostor, a person with many surfaces and elusive substance. While this quality may initially bespeak mere deception, Marian's classification of any attempt to break through such surfaces as a species of "Bluebeard's castle curiosity" indicates the potential for fatal conflict in their relationship. Marian even admits to Peter's "annoying and uncongenial" qualities. The first two clrafts thus underline the relationship's pathological components while at the same theclaiming a greater degree of distance between Marian and Peter. The final version no longer employs this tactic at this stage in the narrative.

In the final version, Marian's charactensation allows for little of this sort of rational, direct insight into Peter's textually emerging nature. In the first draft. Marian's next stage as Bluebeard's bride is achieved on Labour Day while sitting in her bedroom.

Peter's outline is wavering too: 1 never would have suspected that it was a

proprietary, protective, rather paterfamilias face that was hidden beneath

those other layers. ([insert from fl5v:I Now that I've glimpsed that face 1

can see a little better why Peter seems to have avoided obviously mistressy

types and why he tends to dislike Angela} (1 8.10a. 16).

Marian begins to cave in to her own curiosity, explorhg Peter's tme nature. Her fear of engagement and marriage resurfaces and it is expressed through violent Bluebeard sequences as early in the narrative as this same Labour Day passage.

Now there may just be a reversal: with the emergence of this face the

others will be suppressed, and it will be the reckless {irresponsible}young

bachelor that will be waiting with the axe in the last locked roorn. Even

when he's forty-five ([insert fiom fl5v:I md-kt with a round pot-belly and

has become sloppy about dressing. Unthinkable?) How did 1 open that

concealed bungalow-and-double-bed and charcoal-cooking-in-the-back-

yard door? ( 18.1 0a. 16)

The Bluebeard plot is completed in Marian's ruminations. Unwittingly, she has opened the last door-"How did I?" Marian's fate as Bluebeard's future bride contains both the banality of a suburban existence as well as the implication of being a potential murder- victim." Symbolically, this paradox places one fate-life in the suburbs-on the same

levei as the other-being axe-murdered-without any suggestion of a resolution.

During her time at the office, Marian also imagines one of Peter's hidden

identities to be an obscene caller, known in the office's jargon as the Underwear Man.

Frorn the first draft, then, her musings are comected with these Bluebeard themes of concealment and curiosity as well as of violence and obscenity (1 8.1Ob. 1 1v and

18.24.16). Only in the last draft are several similar references eliminated fiom the office passage:

{the central Peter who had been

occupying her mind more and more lately. Perhaps this was what lay

hidden under the surfaces, that secret identity which) in spite of her many

guesses and attempts and half-successes -

* r+ 1

mwepeee she was aware cliar she had still not uncovered: he was really

The Underwear Man (1 9.43.14).

The explicit reference to the Bluebeard legend-%at unpenetrated last room of the fortress'-is translated into the less obvious theme of surface versus depth. Significantly taken away is the motivation of the protagonist, her "indulgence of curiosity," and, even more strongly, her "gent speculations of the utmost consequence," both elements of the

-- -- - A motif, which is more fdly developed in Bodily Hm. onginal Bluebeard myth. However, this probing quality of the heroine disappears dong with her illuminating insight into Peter's role in her life. No longer can Marian make the implicit cornparison that Peter's lonely existence in an unfinished apartment block is really that of a Bluebeard residing in his castle.

Reinforcing the Bluebeard motif, the first two drafts show Peter's dark and fear- inducing qualities during the scene of Peter's and Marian's dimer at a restaurant. This passage constitutes a particularly significant site for linking Peter more explicitly with violence and authoritarian behaviour. For exarnple, his views on the treatment of juvenile delinquents and on child education are far more radical in the first draft: "Rotten little punks. Most of them ought to be shot. . . . And it's al1 because nobody kicked the hell out of them when they deserved if' (1 8.12.2). Marian recognises Peter's violent potential

"{when he said things like) 'most of them ought to be shot'-always surprised her"

(1 8.12.5). However, this indifference to Peter's support of violence in the first draft becomes an absurd defence of his behaviour in the second:

Peter, she knew, was often baffled and made frazzly by the involutions and

irrelevancies {and torturous precedents) of the laws he found himself

trying to decipher and use for his clientsbbefefit [sic]; particularly when

they were 4bmhkdl {discovered, at length,) to favour the opposition.

Perhaps that would be enough to make one want to resort to something

more immediate, like mass slaughter. But he shouldn't reasonably feel k

that (way} : after dl, if the laws weren't complicated he would never make

any money (1 8.26.14). The passage underlines Marian's schizophrenic position, straddling both points of view. her own and that of Peter. by trying to accommodate each simultaneously.

Recognising Peter's violent potential, Marian imagines her fiancé's indirect ways of exerting violence. Indicated by braces, this passage expands in a few details from the first ciraft:

She couldn't imagine him, for instance. ever actually hitting anyone in a fit

of rage or kaektRg {hewing} his way through the enemy ranks with

anything as crude as a sword; or these days, she supposed, a bayonet. If he

chose violence, it would be a manipulation of specialized instruments: a

violence not of flesh and blood, but of &e eye and minds. He would want

something else to do the slaughtering for him, guided only by the contact

of his finger on the trigger or the button or the lever. He would want to be

somewhere else, removed, rnetal-plated, behind thick shatterproof glass,

watching the explosion, (the explosion of flesh and blood}. That way you

{were safe, you} hardly needed to do anything at al1 with your own body.

You thought it, and something else did it, but your hands {the) actud . . (knots oQ fmgemails {veins} newes {skin} and bones AM&R&&R

{unravelling at) the ends of your anns, remained clean (18.26.16).

The Bluebeard axe-rnurder is still deferred. Peter's violent nature is clearly recognised, if expressed only through distanced charnels.

The Bluebeard theme achieves its climax in Marian's hallucinatory experience during the engagement party, where she muses about Peter's identity and the contents of

"the last room." The perception of Peter as a Bluebeard-achieved through the continued opening of new doors-results in a new self-perception for Marian as well. The opening of doors signifies Marian's gaining knowledge of Peter as well as of her own self. In this activity. hardly recognisable to herseif, she cornes across a minor-image of her made-up self. The two-dimensional billboard quality of this false identity appears in the first draft early in the narrative, in chapter eleven. However, in the final draft, the description moves to chapter twenty-seven. Peter's final party and the conflict's culmination point.

Atwood suspends the protagonist's insight and transposes it to the final crisis: first draft, chapter 11 sixth draft, chapter 27

------What about that other figure, two- who was that ftiny) two- dimensional & brightly coloured & dressed dimensional SRtitU figure in a red dress. in domestic printed cotton? wiw-kkd posed like a paper woman in a mail-order

1 Y a 7. . .?' Where catalogue, tuming and smiling, Buttering in on earth, {out of what women's magazine the white empty space. . . . {This couldn't or dimly remembered home-economics be it; there had to be something more.) article) had she corne fiom? (1 8.10a. 16)19 She ran for the next door, yanked it open.

[Atwood's elision] (19.47.32).

Even during the novel's climax, at the engagement Party, Atwood eliminates some

Bluebeard references fiom Marian's discoveries about herself and Peter. Handed down fiom the second draft (18.3 1.1 1)' the final revisions eliminate the ease of insight as well

l9 Note how MarianYscharacterisation-wearing "domestic printed cottony'of "home- economics" style-reiterates the first and second draft's emphasis on the theme of domesticity which the protagonist's last narne, "Moorehouse," suggested. In the final as the specificity of the Bluebeard motif, her quest for the content of "the last room."

Instead, the notion of surface and depth is placed in the foreground along with the stress on a difference between a two- and a three-dimensional figure:

So that's what was in there al1 the time, she thought

(happily: this

is what he's turning into. The real Peter, the one undemeath} was nothing

{surprising or} fnghtening, only this hidden bungalow-and-double-bed

man, this charcoal-cooking-in-the-back-yardman (1 9.47.31 ).

Atwood cuts Marian's break-through sense of self-discovery-"making the discovery rasi1y"-as well as yet another reference to "the last room." Removing the meta- language of Marian's thinking reduces the sense of her being in control of the situation as well as eliminating any doubt in her judgement:

his workshop in the cellar?

ckiRkic. ({The image was reassuring: {he ka$ would have hobbies) he

would be cornfortable, {he would be normal) 1

a}}(1 9.47.3 1).

The Bluebeard theme continues, however. Atwood transposes the first two drafts' pater familias image fiom the earlier Labour Day musings into the final Party, and following the pattern set by Clara's move beyond the north end of the subway line, Atwood transforms Peter into leading an existence in suburbia. However, her own absence from this picture still triggen feu: "She opened the door on the right and went in. There was

version of this passage, the motif of domesticity is exchanged with the motif of consumerisrn suggested by the image of the mail-order catalogue model. Peter . . . He was wearing a white chefs apron. WI . (She looked carefully

for herself (in the garden), but she wasn't there, and the discovery chilled her)"

(19.47.3 1). Only at the pinnacle of Marian's hallucinatory experience does Atwood at

last reassert the life-threatening element attached to Bluebeard. Marian sees Peter

equipped with a murderous weapon: "She walked across the lawn, passing behind the

çileRc {unmoving)figure {which she could see now held a large cleaver in the other

hand,) {pushed open the door) and went through" (1 9.47.3 1-32).

Atwood takes great care in the distribution of Bluebeard motifs as a crucial element in

Marian's psychology. The novelist continues to couch Marian's fear of Peter in

Bluebeard imagery. However, she removes fiom the early stages of the narrative

Marian's insights into Peter and reserves them for exploration during the final engagement party. The protagonist and the reader are both kept in suspense regarding

Peter's psychological and emotional impact on Marian. The vision of Peter as a potential axe murderer is suspended until the culminating point at the engagement party.

Atwood manipulates the motif of fear in a way which disguises its overt psychological effect on the protagonist. As a consequence of Atwood's revisions, neither the protagonist nor the readers know exactly what causes Marian's fear. Reader and protagonist therefore have to work much harder to fil1 in the gap in order to corne to an understanding of her situation. This shifi is particularly significant for increasing the credibility of the protagonist: her ignorance of the exact nature of her fears makes her behaviour seem irrational. From a privileged position of greater distance and more information, the reader is much better positioned than the protagonist to reconstruct the motif of fear fiom the traces lefi in the text. This elimination of the direct expression of Marian's fear shows how the reader is spurred into greater aciivity, turning reading into a more active process in order to close the gaps which Atwood has created through her revisions.

Introspection and Self-recognition in the course of numerous drafts, the rewriting of Marian's character also reduces her ability to judge and to gain insight into situations. She becomes more susceptible to her own delusions. In reducing Marian's moments of conscious insight, Atwood transforms this character from an objective observer of her plight to a victim of subjective delusions. At the same time, these revisions deprive the reader of Marian's description of her emotional conflict as the result of her moments of introspection; self-recognition is removed from the text. Through this development of gaps, Atwood constructs and enacts the changing mental state of her protagonist.

As Marian's moments of introspection are reduced, her dilemma disappears from the character's consciousness, retreating into her subconscious. As interpretative labels disappear fiom the surface of the text, the exact nature of Maian's dilemma is submerged just under that surface. This technique requires the reader to employ a combination of skills for decoding and reconstmcting. Atwood's creative approach delegates to the reader discovery of the motive for Marian's seemingly irrational behaviour in al1 its complexity.

In contrast, moments of introspection are scattered throughout the beginning of the narrative in the drafts, such as when Marian lies trapped behind Len's sofa bed, her attempts to recall the next day, the chaotic events which culminated in her engagement, and especially her more extended niminations on Labour Day while sitiing in her room. Atwood's revisions gradually eliminate such moments of reflection. The rewriting tums

Marian into a character of much vaguer self-perception.

In the first drafl the first moment of introspection, a conscious articulation evaluating her relationship, occurs when Marian slides behind the bed at Len's. The evening, which Marian begins with drinks at the Park Plaza roof-top bar, continues with a series of mishaps-Marian starts to cry in the washroom and then runs away-has Marian manoeuvring herself into a position in which she is forced to ponder her situation: physically hernmed in and stuck under a dusty couch, in the first draft Marian recognises in this situation her symbolic entrapment in the relationship with Peter. These first few drafts provide her with an insight into her situation which the final draft removes

(19.41.26).In the early drafts, she acknowledges the problematic nature of her relationship and admits to seeing clearly the warning signals in her relationship with

Peter: "There had been so many warning signals . . . 1 realized sadly, the bath tub had been the last stop. End of the line. We could ge (move} no fùrther kh&h&m

{along those lines). Where could you go From a bathtub?" (18.9.6-7). Marian recognises the development of her relationship as a dead-end even at this early point before the engagement. She clearly formulates this insight when stuck behind the sofa bed; her position becomes a symbolic manifestation of the relationship. This moment of deliberation disappears only in the final draft version.

At a later moment in the first two drafts, Marian indirectly adrnits to her room- mate that the engagement was unwise, underlining the motif of fear. From the first drafi,

Maxian directly links her room-mate's ironic remark-"You were behaving like a real idiot last night"-with her becoming involved with Peter-"It seems to have got me engaged" (1 8.9.13). In the earlier drafis, Marian's reaction is far more explicitly critical of the engagement than in the published book, where she defends her action. in the final version, she announces it more self-assuredly as "we got engaged" without direct reference to Ainsley's comment about idiotic behaviour.

The passage, which is only slightly revised in the second drafi (1 8.23.2)' explicitly acknowledges Marian's awareness of the workings of her subconscious: "Somewhere. floating just beneath the surface-tension of awareness, was the knowledge that at the crucial moment one of my strongest reactions had been a feeling of triumph over Mn.

Grot. t'(18.23.2). In the early drafis, Marian remembers barely submerged feelings of triumph over her boss at the office, an icon of morality and convention. Instead of stressing her escape from boring, menial office work, in the final version Marian is more concemed with holding her own against her room-mate rather than defending the engagement itself. In the first two drafts, the passage acknowledges the tension between Marian's conscious insight and her banning such insights to the depths of the subconscious; in the final version such insight disappears. In the final version, Marian cunningly refers to her subconscious as a self-defence against the criticism of her room-mate: "{'Subconsciously,' I said, '1 probably wanted to marry Peter al1 along'}" (19.35.18).

In the early drafks, she is sublirninally aware of her compensatory strategies.

Marian's washing the breakfast dishes derher discussion of her engagement with her room-mate in the early drafts is clearly articulated as a strategy of aggressive self- suppression, only to be eliminated later: As 1 was attacking the breakfast dishes with an exaeeerated vigour waç

(not) {un}comected with ff~{the) need to avoid, by some strictly

physical means, the dilemmas raised by the previous night, I heard

footsteps coming up our stairs (18.23.6, my emphasis).

In the second drafl, the passage still contains a dramatic irony which the final draft loses: just as Marian is trying hardest to suppress the dilemma of her engagement, footsteps on the stairs announce the arriva1 of Peter.

A significant moment of extensive self-reflection takes place when Marian remembers on Labour Day the events leading up to her engagement, while sitting in her bedroom. Atwood markedly revises the protagonist's cognitive processes in this significant chapter. Atwood reduces Marian's insight into the development of her relationship with Peter while revising her protagonist's attempts to come to terms with it.

The beginning of the chapter eliminates any reference to the development of her situation.

Instead of "So that's how 1 got here," which implies the whole line of developrnent, the revision resûicts Marian's mental faculties to "So here 1 am(19.2 1.20). The chapter's frame shifis the emphasis away fiom the cognitive faculty of logic with its ability to analyse a whole process-"how 1 got here." hstead, the protagonist merely concentrates on the status quo, the end-result of Marian's position-"So here I am." in this passage, the protagonist loses altogether the potential for insight into and a critique of developments. The ultirnate version "So here 1 am" couches the protagonist's situation in the 'where-is-here motif.'20 While the "where is here" motif seems to occur in a rather

20 Northrop Frye's "Conclusion" to KlinckysLiterarv History of Canada defines this motif as seminai for Canadian literature (826). For Atwood, the motif continues to be localised manner, its place in the narrative is still of great importance. Located at the end of part one, this chapter summarises the events leading up to Marian's alienation fiorn her former self, reflected in the next chapter's switch in narrative voice from a first-person to a third-person narration.

The revision removes from the chapter's opening Marian's definitive, rational processing of eventslbNow that 1 thought it al1 through 1 feel a lot better" (19.2 1.20)- which implies both analysis and reaching a conclusion. Instead, the revised version describes Marian's thought processes merely as "I've gone over it al1 in my mind," a linear activity-"to consider seriatim" (0ED)-with implications of "exarnining something in detail" (OED)but without any connotation of result. Drawing a much vaguer picture, the revision focuses on Marian's thought processes rather than on a conclusive analysis.

Still verbalised in the last preserved draft (1 9.43.26),the protagonist's realisation of her loss of judgement is removed from the final version:

Little scraps and shreds of the weekend kept floating up to the surface (of

my mind,) demanding to be exarnined, but eluding me when 1 tried to

hang on to them long enough for a thorough look. The day lay around me,

ahead of me, empty but cluttered as a vacant lot. . . . 1 BiBRlc couldn't

(sumrnon) up the energy to move fiom this room (1 8.24.2).21

influentid in Bodily Hmand even provides the preliminary title-Where 1s Here-to her novel Surfacing. See Atwood Papers, boxes 2 1-22. *'The passage's image of being below and above the surface of conscious awareness echoes a comparable rhetoric from the passage in 18.23.2, discussed on p. 82. Coinciding with the disappearance of Marian's insights, Atwood diminishes the cornpetence and practical eficiency of her protagonist. The narrative eliminates the reference to a productive phase earlier in the day: "When 1 had finished the report 1 was found myself at a loss for something definite to do" (1 8.24.2). The chapter rearranges

Marian's actual activity on Labour Day Monday. While in the early drafts she first accomplishes her work on the interview report, in the final version this thought remains merely an intention. The revision considerably reduces the protagonist's activity, reinforcing the notion of a low level of mental energy.

The next stage in Marian's review of events takes place after the unsuccessful dinner party in which Peter first encounters Marian's university friends, Clara and Joe and their farnily. While the first draft (1 8.13.19) and the second (18.28.9) explicitly refer to

Marian's awareness of Peter's problems with her own fnends, both drafts also contain a selflessly submissive concem for his feelings. Her own and Peter's emotional needs become entangled in Marian's mind. Neither this astute, implied critique of their relationship nor her empathy with Peter survives in the final version:

The evening had not been one to soothe Peter's apprehensions, and she

knew he did have apprehensions, though she didn't know quite what they

were: The two of them seemed to have grown almost ominously polite to

one other &ese+ky {in the past few months}. They didn't discuss things

like that. &iesttFe Mer the wedding, she thought, that wouid al1 get

adjusted. (It would have to be worked out.) It just took tirne (18.28.9).

Even more than the first draft (1 8.13.19), the second draft stresses and enlarges on the problematic nature of their relationship. In addition, the second draft acknowledges the sore spots in their relationship. The passage cornes to imply a consciousness that their relationship requires change in the face of the impending marriage, al1 of which is rernoved from the final version.

nie sarne passage hilly exploits Marian's paradoxical behaviour. At the same time that she sees Peter's behaviour as problematic, she compensates by day-drearning:

Her own state could hardly be called apprehensive; she herself wasn't at

al1 nervous. She thought over the coming details, and decided that she

didn7t feu anythng specific. She

saw the teas and showers that would be lavished upon her when she went

back home, she couid predict who would be there, what they would say,

even what they7dgive her . . . but she couldn't see beyond that day.

In the second cirafi, her previously established insights about the problematic nature of their relationship become submerged into her subconscious. She projects her inner fears on to Peter, but she herself disavows any apprehension:

They would nini and walk down the aisle, she could see that, she could see

herself and Peter, their clothes anyway, and the watching {smiling} faces.

They would walk down the aisle and out through the church door-into

what? Al1 she could visualize then was the two of them seffiftg stepping

out of the doorway surrounded by a dense flurry of confetti, into a vast

formless white space. . . .

Nonsense, she said (1 8.28.9, Atwood's elision).

As in the first draft (1 8.13.19-20), the second shows Marian succurnbing to a romantic cliché about her wedding. At the sarne the, her imagination cannot reach beyond this event. Life with Peter after the wedding constitutes the Great Unknown. The draft therefore implies an expression of fear and uncertainty despite herself. The allusion to

Bluebeard's bride, who does not learn to fear her husband until afler the wedding, is not fa. Marian has to draw herself back forcefully fiom this indirect admission of fear.

At key moments in Marian's development, the rewriting of the protagonist's character is accompanied by a steady elimination of contemplative moments. The moments of introspection and rational deliberation are systematically reduced or removed. As a result of these revisions, insights into the nature of her psychological state are transferred away from Marian's consciousness and the surface structure of the text.

Instead, these probing conflicts continue their effect in the protagonist's subconscious but the reader must decode them.

Atwood's revisions thus achieve a character transformation: Marian no longer floats just barely above a level of conscious denial of her problem, trapped by simple bouts of paralysis, while aware of her dilemma with Peter. The revisions submerge the character deeper into a realrn of subconscious suffering. Using Atwood's own scale of victim positions, the rewriting causes the character to slide fiom position two-"to acknowledge the fact that you are a victim" but being trapped in passivity-back to position one-to deny altogether the fact that you are a victim (Swivai 36-37).

Among the most significant differences between the early and the late versions is the clear insight into the nature of Marian's attraction to Peter as revealed in her conversation with Clara in the maternity ward. In the first two drafts, there is a far more extensive and pointed discussion of the protagonist's relationship, clarified by the use of

Clara's relationship as a foil. The conversation reveals Marian's pragmatism in clear contrast to Clara's idealism. The first two drafts have Clara directly pose questions to

Marian about her relationship with Peter. Responding to Clara's remark that she and her husband loe do not really know Peter, Marian says in the first dr&: ''WThe thought fiightened her." The draft material again specifies Marian's emotional response to her relationship as anxiety, a recuning motif. While the initially drafted gut response-her admission of remoteness fiom Peter-is immediately eliminated within the same draft, still the ominous implications remain. At first, however, Clara appears to difise Marian's fear:

[Blut Clara smiled and said, 'No, you never really know someone till

you've been married to them for a while. {[insert from f2:] The

engagement really is a period of illusion, 1 remember mine: 1 had my head

in the clouds most of the time) (1 8.1 1.3).

The carefùl reader of the second draft will pick up the allusion to the Bluebeard motif in which the bride discovers only after the wedding the menature of her hitherto loving and caring bridegroom.

The first drafts provide a strong juxtaposition between Marian's practical and rational decision and Clara's idealistic and emotional motivation for a relationship. This contrat helps to characterise clearly the nature of Marian's attachent to her fiancé:

'Well, I've never thought of Peter as Jesus Christ,' Marion said.

' (You don't?} But you ought to,' Clara

&e said eamestly. 'Why are you marrying him then? You really ought

to.'

'Now don't go al1 women's magazine on me,' Marion said, (&wmg&ww feeling the corners of her mouth drawn dom, she disliked

sentimentality. )

While the first draft underlines Clara's position of unconditional adoration, Clara's insistence forces the resisting Marian to define the nature of her attraction to Peter, a far more reasoned approach than the final novel will allow. In the first cirafi, Marian replies:

"Don't you think it's better to go into it without any illusions? 1 think we are being very sensible about it. Of course he ki+eme {does have lots) of good qualities tee,' she added, {not wanting to sound too tmedxmW coldly practical) ." The lengthy discussion of their relationships has Marian argue with pwly rational arguments, a strategy which the emotional Clara clearly dismisses: "'Sensible!' Clara & {said indignantly.}

'Anyone who's being just sensible should never get married at all. It's not a sensible thing to do. 1 mean, look at me."' The argument is finally driven home with Marian's allusion to Clara and Joe's disorderly household which so clearly contrasts to Peter's obsession with disciplined neatness:

' Well, it won't be chaos anyway,' Marion said, seizing on this one

word that surnmed up{so totally for her) the physical siee {aspect} of

Clara's household. 'Peter is tembly neat.'

'&WU A good housebroken animal, eh? Won't muddy the

carpets.' Clara shook her pale head sadly. '6{ You

sound as though you're) thinking of marriage as something you get in a

card board box? Different brands for different tastes but al1 standardized?

And Peter just because he's got the approximate good qualities? VaAe

-. -. God, if I had to start trying to sort out Joe's good qualities fiom the rest of him 1 don? know what I'd do. {[insert fiom 3v:]

He was such a mixed lot.} He just doesn't corne apart in neat

{detachable) little pieces like that' (1 8.1 1 -4).

The debate clearly contrasts Clara's and Marian's differing needs in a relationship. This

version allows Marian to formulate a vision of herself as organised and efficient,

presenting her relationship as a rational choice. However, the senousness with which

Clara queries the emotional basis for Marian's attachent to Peter brings out the short-

comings of Marian's and Peter's relationship in a manner which the final novel no longer

ali~ws.~'

In the first draft, the discussion of Marian's relationship with Peter culminates in

Clara's direct question about Marian's feeling for Peter:

'1 mean don't you love him?' Clara was asking.

'Of coune 1 love him.' {[insert from f4v:I more sharply, almost in

the indignant tone she would W use in reply to someone who questioned

the fact that she took baths. '1 am going to marry him, you know'}

(18.1 1.5).

Here, Atwood directly confronts both Maian and the reader with the question of motive.

Marian's brusque response in the first full draft clearly implies denial, refusing to mer analyse their partnenhip. Far from questioning and examining the tme nature of her feelings for Peter, she blocks the discussion. Rhetorically significantly, Marian takes her

22 Marian's emphasis on the rational combined with her neglect of the emotional parallels a recurring motif developed in the frst two drafts, the motif of the "Snow Queen" who traps her victims in her ice-cold palace of rationaiity in which emotional warmth cm never thnve. For the discussion of Ham Christian Andersen's intertext, see p. 134. love of Peter for granted as much as her persona1 hygiene. Atwood developed the motif

of the girl who didn't wash early in the witing process, initially as a short story draft

called "Are You the Woman Who Washes" (79.1 1.1-1 2), part of the material preliminary

to the novel. The rhetonc of her assertion evokes the office virgin's tale of "The Girl

Who Didn't Wash" later in the novel, in which a woman's neurosis causes her to neglect

completely her persona1 bygiene. Marian's sharp and certain response to Clara's question

whether she loves Peter is thus undermined. The rhetorical figure which specifies the

quality of her response-"the indignant tone she would use in reply to someone who

questioned the fact that she took bathsW-connotesless certainty than Marian believes.

The connotation implies a psychological defect, a pathology which later Marian also finds

tl~reatenin~.?~This parallel is lost through revision and Marian's discussion with Clara

loses its pointed edge. While the final version still displays Clara's views on her own

relationship, there is no longer a debate. Marian sirnply acquiesces to Clara and it is left

to the reader to construct the difference between Clara's marriage with Joe and Marian's

relationship with Peter.

The passage in the matemity ward expresses this difficulty as Marian attempts to

separate her own views from those of Clara in a lengthy simile. Significantly, Marian

expresses her dificulties in coming to terms with the new relationship in an extended

food metaphor:

Now the two sets of attitudes encircled by the canvas bed-curtains were ail

at once too much for her to handle. It was like trying to straighten out a

Compare also the recurrence of the body hygiene motif in Marian's childhood fascination with a rubber-skinned washable doil. hopelessly knotted skein of wool that wasn't even wool but spaghetti:

slipping too. There were knife people and spoon-and-fork people and,

most skilled of ail, one-handed fork-twirlers. The main thing, if you

weren't going to plunge gauchely in and hack your way through, was to

find some of the ends and begin fiom there. Round and round, with the

word love sliding every time off the edge of the plate, its rapidly-

multiplying connotations curling like tentacles.

At the end of this passage, Marian loses altogether her ability to resolve the dilemrna:

"She made another stab at it, missed again, and substituted with, 'Of course the word

[love] is very overworked these days. We hardly know what we mean by it anymore

(exactly}" (18.25.14). In this drafi version of the matemity ward scene, Marian starts off with an awareness of two clearly opposing views, Clara's and her own. Simultaneously. she is aware of her increasing inability to judge clearly. Words for Marian grow "more and more opaque." Dissolving rneaning and denotation first appear in the context of the protagonist's relationship. iLove" loses its previously assumed clear definition. The dissolving Ianguage next affects Marian's workplace, an expression of her dienation fiom the consumer questionnaires.

Food imagery is yet a third context in which this motif is explored. Atwood's choice of an extended food metaphor-the difficulty of eating spaghetti-describes

Marian's inability to grasp and isolate meaning. The problems of the semiotics of love are thus initially coupled with a metaphoncal expression of Marian's anorexia. Rewriting the whole hospital scene, Atwood rejects the previously clear isolation of meaning for the reader's easy consumption, just as her protagonist's body rejects food. Thus on an extratextual level, Atwood's revision follows Marian's development: in subsequent drafis the reader, like Marian, loses clear insight. The reader will no longer be explicitly told, but has to construct these insights into the protagonist's psyche.24

A fûrther reduction of Marian's critical faculties cm be seen in Atwood's pruning of Marian's observations at the party. During the Party, Marian's moments of sharp analysis and observation-witness her comments on the office virgins-are either reduced or removed: "Leonard had been spotted at once by the office virgins as single & available; they must, she thought, possess an uncanny scavenging instinct of some kind"

(1 8.16.1 1). While the second draft keeps Marian's assessrnent of the office virgins

"possess[ing] an uncanny scavenging instinct" (18.3 1.3), in the final version (19.47.22)

Marian's observations no longer include these astute remarks. Marian's extended comment on and description of the office virgins' behaviour and their attire clearly seems out of character for a protagonist who is suffering immense psychological tension at the party. The most acuteiy satirical character description is that of Millie. The extensive physicai detail betrays the eye of a carkatwist. Its detached accuracy exaggerates

Millie's character traits. This detachment is unlikely, given Marian's psychological state at this stage in the character's development:

Millie was a surprise. The other 2 had merely managed

to intensiQ their usual images-Millie had attempted a complete switch.

24 As a leitrnotif, Marian's uncertainty in anaiysing events and her loss of linguistic cornpetence recur in her attempt to explain Peter's previous sexual expenences: "'the experiences [Peter] had had were feelSl without (a recognized} name (at the moment): not '&airs7 any more, not just 'sex' either; 'relationships,' maybe" (18.26.15). Marian's awareness of the problem is here applied to fhding a name for Stolid and practical at The Office, given to wool dresses and good tweed

suits, she was clad now in pale-blue satin, with matching shoes. The dress

had an extremely full skirt, out of the top of which her thick torso emerged

like the fleshy stalk of a mushroom. The blue material flowed over two

bulges, one at each side of her waist, which would later grow together to

make a complete spare tire, then continued upwards, manoeuvred itself

minor seam-strains over her plump breasts, and puckered itself into 2 short

slightly-puffed sleeves ([insert from back of booklet, 22v:l each of which

had a darker semicircle of perspiration on its underside. The shiny satin

was exactly the wrong thing for Millie's figure: it caught the light,

emphasizing these curves & contours that ought not to have been

emphasized}

Millie's head, with its girl-guide round rosy cheeks and cropped

hair, was perched en+#e@ incongruously on the top of this

confection; she looked altogether, Marion thought, like a (pudgy) little

tomboy who has been dragged out of the apple tree & dressed up by her

mother for a birthday-party. She was clutching a tiny evening-bag,

covered with pale-blue and silver sequins (1 8.16.9).

Fit for the parody of a "life-style" column, this extremely elaborate description is supported by Atwood's own visual sketches in the dr&s (1 8.18.16v), outlining the office virgins' visual impression at the pq. While, in the first full draft, Marian's

Peter's past expenences, while at the sarne time avoiding their implications for the present situation. observations on the dress, hair, and make-up of Lucy, Ernrnie, and Millie take up three substantiai paragraphs of about 400 words, the description of dl three characters is reduced to only three sentences in the last draft.

The party transforms her dread into persecution mania. Moreover, the boundary marker between fantasy and reality is removed; the reader has to deduce when the protagonist thinks or dreams. While the early versions label Marian's thoughts about her location at the party as fantasy, "[slhe thought about corridors" (1 8.17.4), in later drafts this clue to Marian's flights of imagination is abandoned: 'that's who Peter really is, she thought, walking along one of the corridors. She opened a door to the right. . . There was Peter, forty-five and balding." in the first drafi, Marian's spatial position in Peter's apartment is clearly marked; the text explicitly signals her vision of corridors as mere thought. However, in the second draft's revision, this boundary marker disappears.

Marian now drifts. Actual and mental space are no longer clearly separated. Marian's floating into the irrational and fantasy now has to be decoded by the reader. The sequence turns into a far more ambiguous mix of fantasy and reality. Atwood's rewriting results in a more active process of reading.

Mental Imbalance In the drafts, Marian's emotionai dilemma receives more extensive treatrnent than in the final version. The earliest pre-novel cirafts strongly suggest a mental imbalance in which the protagonist suffers fiom seeing herself acting in two conflicting ways. This split personality is portrayed in two early, pre-novel fragments, MS.d, titled "Life with the real me" (79.1 1.18) as well as in the earliest recognisîble bepinning of the novel, TS.aa, a thirteen-page fragment titled "The Edible Woman" (1 8.2.1- 13). While in MS.d the title "Life with the real me" already suggests the special focus on persona1 identity, we learn

more about the troubled nature of this identity when the unnamed protagonist receives the

women "from the office" attending her baby shower. Answenng the door, her other self

emerges for the first time: '"Prepare yourself, my dear.' Said the voice that was always

with her." As the protagonist receives her guests, some unidentified mental pathology is

present.

The phenomenon of an imaginary voice outside the protagonist yet inside her imagination reappears in TS.aa, the thirteen-page fiagrnent which leads towards the novei proper. As this fragment opens, we encounter the protagonist as she is about to dispense with one of two dolls, a motif which recurs in a modified fom in the novel. The fragment is told in first-person voice with unaccounted for references to a third-person female who keeps interfering with the action of the first-person voice. This "she" requires attention, as "she" jealously watches over the protagonist's every move. She is said to be "using any small excuse to make trouble." The pathological nature of this unspecified "she" does not becorne clear until the third page of this manuscript: "1 have to keep reminding myself that she doesn't really exist. . . . But now 1 find it helpful to postdate her existence, as a private talisman, a fetish of some kind" (18.2.3). The fragment's protagonist describes this presence as imaginary, but she also perceives the figure in physical terms as "sitting crosslegged and hunched not exactly in my head but above it, detached, behind and slightly to the Lefi: the watcher, presider over certain portions of my time," thus making it appear quite real. While the protagonist offers understanding and sympathy to Robert over drinks at "one of the more elegant mid-town hotels," the protagonist's alter-ego keeps interfering: "Behind me and a littie to the lefi, {something} was giggling softly to itself' (1 8.2.9). This antagonism had manifested itself earlier when the two were leaving from the protagonist's apartment, when "my dark genius ground its teeth at his retreating back" ( 1 8.2 -6).

This other voice interfering with her relationship to Robert is centred in, yet not identicai with, one of the two dolls, the older one. Since the dolls recur as symbols in the final novel, the gradua1 modification of this motif is worth investigating in greater detail.

In the thirteen-page draft, the narrative voice speaks collectively about fiou=dolls" sining on "either side of the mirror." However, the first-person voice claims only a clearly feminine doll: "1 wanted her because she had rubber skin that you could wash and long blonde hair that could be combed and curled . . . her large blue eyes looked up at me, serene as ever." This do11 has three different dresses, one of which is pi* "with mffles."

The other, older do11 belongs to the third-person feminine voice:

She got it when she was only a baby. . . . The body is cloth, the head is

hard and painted, 9{with round pink

circles for the cheeks,} and there's a round "O" in the center of the mouth.

for a bonle. The eyes are glass; they have (stiff) bnstly eyelashes and they

open and close. . . . The fingers and toes have been chewed off so that the

brown sawdusty flesh, and the patches of paint eaten away fiom the face

make it look diseased. She keeps it wrzpped in part of a pillowcase; only

its head and arms stick out. I have always had an aversion to it (1 8.2.1-2).

While the protagonist embraces the more ferninine doll, the older, unsanitary one with the bnstly, unferninine eyelashes belongs to "her." Transgressing the tab0-~'1 know 1 am never supposed to touch it, that's part of the agreement9'-the protagonist blindfolds the older doll, pulls out the stuffing from the body, ties the arms in a hot. wraps it in a

pillow case and hides it in her bureau drawer under some underwear and a layer of

sanitary napkins: "she has never liked to go near them [sanitary napkins]" (1 8.2.2).

The pre-novel draft's protagonist is clearly split into two personalities, an

accomrnodating self and another, a meddlesome and quarrelsome personality which is

interfering with her partnership with Robert and avoids articles of female hygiene. In an

obscure way, the two dolls reflect this double personality, the newer do11 associated with

girlhood, ferninine qualities, and personal hygiene such as taking baths, whereas the

older, sexless do11 is disowned and associated with the protagonist's more aggressive and

darker alter-ego. The thirteen-page fragment TS.aa thus anticipates the development of

two opposing expressions of femininity, a submissive and an aggressive nature.

In the adaptation of this motif of dolls to the final novel, it gradually loses a dark.

mischievous character. In the novel's first and second full drafts, Atwood still maintains

from the narrative's very beginning Marian's perception of the dolls as animate and

influencing her life. In the first two drafts, Marian blames them for "knocking down and

breaking a bottleful of ekqsweet cologne" (1 8.20.2). This mischievous intervention by

"one of the (old} dolls (- 1 keep) on my dresser" becomes the ostensible

cause for her being late to work. In the fust (18.5.17) and the second draft, Marian

transforms the dolls into an extension of herself. Only in the last draft is this passage, and

the projection of her own shortcomings ont0 the image of the dolls, separated fiorn the novel's body (19.1 7.4) to be discarded.

The dolls' animate and quasi-magical character is maintained in the transition

fiom pre-novel to early novel draft. Atwood exploits this role, giving the dolls symbolic significance as a watch over moral standards in the early drafts before removing this attribute through further revision. In the first draft, Marian sees them as reminding her of, and reprimanding her for, certain actions. She perceives the dolls as staring at her after her engagement, like disapproving alter egos: "My two dek {4&isks dolls} were gazing at me fiom the &ew~@A (dresser} opposite the foot of my bed with eyes as blank as my own must have been" (18.9.13). The first two drafts focus on Marian's perception of her dolls as possessing powerful quaiities nght from the begiming. The final novel relegates this perception to a mere signal of Marian's mental stress, between Marian's visit to the hairdresser and the final engagement party in chapter twenty-four.

Atwood's revision also dismantles the dolls' function as a pillar maintaining

Marian's morale. In the draft, Marian perceives them as tangible objects that she manages to hold on to, counter-balancing the slipping grasp she has on the weekend events: "[The dolls are] something firm and steady on which to focus my attention. They at least, unlike most of the other things in this weekend, have clear outlines; {they are familiar, they belong to me}" (18.24.2). Companions in a situation metaphoncally threatening her very existence, on Labour Day the dolls share a place in Marian's bedroom which she imagines to be a life raft?

'* Developed in the first draft, this image of existentid threat is extended in the second to include a satiricd expression of Marian's dislike for the marketing interview procedures: My small bundle of preliminary questionnaires (@mgfefei~g in front of me} on this bed is Iike a message 1'11 soon put in a bottle and toss overboard. It may sink before it cm reach any inhabited shore, and even if they do fmd it {and even if they cm read that {strange} language,) what will it Say to hem? Not any glad tidings or cal1 iRte for rescue, but simply "Add DOES NOT LISTEN TO THE RADIO box;" "Note: Inte~ewersshould watch the pronunciation of the word tingly, Question 8 (a{d}); listenea tend to hear 'tinkly' on the recording" (18.24.1-2). In the first draft, then, Atwood describes the two dolls as inseparable. For Marian they fom an intimate unity: "I've ofien ckettgkea8ettc considered throwing away the first doll, but I've never been able to. If 1ever get rid of them 1'11 have to eeAk&edispose of them both at once" (1 8.10a. 15). Here the transition occurs in order to redise the acknowledged opposition be~eenthe dolls as strongly linked in a single entity.

Yet the contrast between the natures of the two dolls grows in the first two drafts.

The dolls are more clearly juxtaposed as an older, more natural, but also sexless toy and a newer, definitely feminine object. The older do11 is simple and without personality; it

"has no clothes and no name" and its sexual identity is questionable. "I've never been sure whether it's supposed to be a boy or girl; it's a baby of some kind, however." The protagonist's emotional aversion to the older do11 is significantly downplayed. While the pre-novel draft TS.aa still descnbes this doll's eyes as looking "diseased, . . . I've always had an aversion to if" the novel's first draft erases this categorical rejection describing the do11 as "a disagreeable-looking object" (18.10a. 15). The second draft Merrevises

Marian's judgement of the do11 to: "It isn't what you'd cal1 pretty" (1 8.24.2-3).26

The feminine doll's rnost important qualities, "long washable hair and rubbery skin," are retained in the final novel. However, in the second drafi the evocation of connotations with the consumer society motif and advertising retains still greater prominence: "[She] is of later vintage and still preserves much of her store-new splendour. . . . 1 remember 1 asked for her one Christmas because you could give her

" The first drafl's merspecification of the older doll's wrapping in a strip of old sheet "like a mumrny cloth," explicitly evokes a comection with Marian and Duncan's visit to the Egyptian collection at the museurn. baths. The name on her tag was Suzy Suds, and 1 never gave her any other" (1 8.24.3).

Her washable quality is described as a mixed blessing, suggesting the long-term results OF overrealous activity2' "Because she was so frequently scmbbed her skin is rather wom and has din ingrained in the creases of her neck and wrists, but she is still presentable"

(1 8.24.3).

The novel's drafts play wiîh the contrasting visions of female representation initiated by the introduction of the dolls much more directly. The parallel between the feminine do11 and a doll-like, artificial femininity is evoked in the first drafi's description of Angela's meeting with Len (1 8.8.17~).Atwood intensifies that parallel between

Ainsley and a do11 in the second draft: "Her (latest} version (of herself) was even more forcibly like one of the large plurnp dolls that abound in the stores at Christmas-time, with washable rubber-smooth skin and round glassy eyes and long gleaming artificial hair" (1 8.22.7). Atwood's revisions, however, change the doll-like Ainsley into a character who willingly desexualises her appearance as she assumes a school-girl identity in order to lure Len. Marian, on the other hand, is pressured by Peter into adopting more artificial femininity before the final Party. The narrative transforms her from an imocuous construction of gender into an image of over-accentuated femininity, switching fiom the ideal of genderiessness to that of Peter's ideal of exaggerated femininity. As a result of her change of appearance, Marian sees her image dissolving in the mirror between the two dolls (1 8.15.15). The protagonist literally loses her identity. This motif

'' This overzeaious washing evokes connections with the opposite extreme, a pathology described in the pre-novel short-stoiy "Are You the Woman Who Washes" (79.1 1.1-12). of lest identity of the draft is removed. In the final novel. it is the dolls' faces which

dissolve and refonn in the mirror.

Other explicit formulations of the parallels between the dolls and the character

configurations in the novel also disappear. Peter's objectieing treatment of Marian

reflects his desire to tum her into a doll-like marionette. The day after their engagement,

during Peter's visit to Marian's apartment, her discornfort is clearly indicated in their

non-verbal communication. The second draft specifies a body language which underlines

her cnimbling under male domination: "My hand beneath his felt so brinle and precarious

1 was afiaid to move it for fear of breakage" (18.23.7). Marian also recognises Peter's

manipulation, herself employing the image of a marionette: "He put his hand under my

chin and medmy head on the pivot of my neck so that he could look éewR at me. 1 let

myself be manipulated, passive as a marionette on strings" (18.23.8; cut late in 19.42.9f.).

The pre-novel version's attempt at exorcising the dolls' magic power over Marian through manipulation with knife and band-aid is converted into a less jolting image in the

first novel drafl, a protagonist's childhood exploration:

The eyes open and close (by a lead weight - 1 once took the head off to

see), . . . {children cmbe cruelly inquisitive. Even though 1 thought of it

as semi-animate, dive in some way (1 know 1 used to leave food in front of

it overnight sometimes & was always disappointed when it wasn't gone in

the morning), I seem to have had no scruples about causing it pain.} It

cme+~~&{used to make) a crying sound when slapped on the back, but

the squeaker that produced this never worked afler I'd opened it up to

examine it (1 8.24.2). While ostensibly dealing with "innocent" childhood activity on a symbolic level,

Marian's violent operation on the dolls reveals a self-destructive strain, of suppressing

pain. In the novel's first draft, the final expurgation of the dolls' influence and co-

dependency is achieved and explicitly noted. In the novel's resolution, while the cake

bakes in the oven, Atwood considers having Marian address the dolls: "'~

1,. LI' S.T9 ---' ( 18.18.16). However,

Atwood eliminates their role in the novel's resolution. This clear depiction of self-

liberation disappears fiom the text:

In a moment of elation I ew~took the 2 dolls from my dresser + was

going to throw them in ~wetoo, but on second thought {I put &e hem in a

box &) wrapped them in some tissue paper and tied them with a leftover

Christmas ribbon. {Throws them out) (1 8.18.28~).

In the final version of the novel, the resolution is entirely given over to the cake lady and its representation of femininity and of Marian's body, without reference to the dolls.

Before the revisions, the early drafts suggest that Marian's emotional dilemrna stems from an imbalance in the conflicting responses produced by different sides of her personality. This imbalance forces her to make decisions with which she is increasingly unable to cope. The drafb manifest her inner conflict through extemalised images or the extended use of symbols, such as the two dolls.

Clearly outlined in Atwood's use of the pair of dolls, Marian's schizophrenic predisposition continues to work its influence throughout the early drafts. This mental condition results in Marian seeing inanimate objects as dive, in an inability to control her thoughts, in seeing herself both From within and without, and in having her existence

threatened.

In the second draft, Marian's perception of objects as animate continues to play a

role as a method of extemalising inner conflict. Reflecting the mental conflict between

her desire to play the obedient wife and her distress at Peter's chauvinism, she

experiences the mental stress caused by feelings tom between loyalty towards her friend.

Len, and an abdication of any responsibility for Ainsley's seduction. Under this pressure.

she sees her landlady's family portraits in the hallway as exuding a moral force, similar to the force of the older do11 in the draft fragment: "The ancestors stared {down) at me

from the wall (-1. In their yellowing daguemotyped eyes was a faint but stem appeal to my sense of moral duty." Marian projects her own intemalised moral standards when she sees the portraits as animated. Of special importance is her sense of being watched, causing unease:

'She wouldn't due anyway,' 1 said to hem, thus releasing myself frorn

responsibility. I was trying to feel self-righteous, clear of conscience, but

somewhere in the lower regions of my sou1 1 recognized a glowing ember

of delighted and malevolent curiosity. 1 had every intention of phoning

Len. 1 wanted to see what would happen (18.21 -4).

Externalising her imer conflict between "moral duty" and "malevolent curiosity" helps

Marian to dispense with any feelings of guilt. instead, the draft even acknowledges rernnants of the dernonical desire to see Ainsley's plan take its course. In the fmal version, such qualms can at most be only indirectly constmed. In the second draft, additional signs of emotional and mental distress are made visible in Marian's inability to control her own thoughts. The imagery used to describe her loss of control is significantly taken fiom consumerism. Marian likens her rnind to a supermarket shelf:

1 closed my eyes and tried to think about nothing.

([insert frorn BIv:] This proved {surprisingly}

difficult. No sooner would 1 get my mind wiped clean as a blank sheet of

paper than it would begin filling up with various objects till it was packed

tightly, though not as neatly, as a supermarket shelf. {words, garments

fragments of faces, things that would have to be done.) I couldn't succeed

in creating a vacuum; 4A4d {but the things, trivial or

anxious by being placed as it were in the same price-

range, neutralized each other} and finally achieved a measure of

tranquilizingly random disorder} ( 18.23.1 2).

The metaphor of the supennarket shelf provides another pointed, political comment on the role of consumensm and its inherent intmiveness, again ascnbing to Marian the passive qualities of an inanimate object. While in metaphoricai language, this fiequent crossing or even extinguishing of the boundary between animate and inanimate drives home Marian's psychological disposition toward a schizophrenic transgression of reality, as she places herself in a position of absolute passivity. Nonetheless, in the end, the image's construction may have seemed too contrived to survive into the fmal text. The two passages which most drastically demonstrate this schizophrenic bluning between the character's reality and her imagination depict the protagonist's experience during and after her victimisation at the hairdresser, an experience which radically changes her appearance into something incongruous with her personality. Marian's response is twofold and dichotomous: both critical and fearful.

in the hairdresser passage, Atwood expresses the protagonist's moments of consumer-society cnticism in flashes of broad satire. Marian momentarily harbours thoughts of juvenile rebellion. From an earlier and briefer version (1 8.15.3),the satire is extended to read: "Passing dong the {gently-frying} Iine of those who were not yet done. she had a momentary impulse to switch al1 their controls to HOT or pull out their plugs or cross their wires. It might start a revolution" (1 8.29.14). This naïve impulse to act mischievously is eliminated altogether in the last drafl(19.46.22). The satirical vision of a social activist disappears.

At the same time, in the first draft Marian suffers from a sudden attack of paranoia at the hairdresser. An impersonal 'they' expresses her vague sense of a general conspiracy. The pronoun's irrational use implies an unspecified collective culpnt: "This was what they, al1 of hem, wanted her finally to become: ([insert fiom IV]This blend of the simply vegetable and the simply mechanical) An electric mushroom" (1 8.15.2). This critique of the personality-altering forces is maintained in the second draft (1 8.29.13), but in the last draft is altered to read as a question: "Was this what she was being pushed towards . . .?" (19.46.22). The effect is to make the introduction of Marian's critique more hesitant and subjective, more an expression of self-doubt than the expression of a delusory, schizophrenic conviction of a conspuacy against her. nie same paranoia over consumer society's traps is present in the supermarket. In the second draft, Marian's anxiety is merunderlined by capitalising the unspecific pronom "They." While the drafts' comrnents signal Marian's understanding of the consumerism which exerts power over her, the passage reveals her self-awareness-about her disappearing sense of cntical judgement and the reduced ability to protect herself against the forces' onslaught:

But just because she knew what They [sic] were up to didn't mean that she

(personally} was immune. As the weeks went by and the time for her

departure fiom The Office drew closer and closer, she became aware that

she was gradually losing whatever safeguards of ironic knowledge she had

acquired there (1 8.28.1).

Marian's introspection leads her to recognise and clearly label the forces which exert pressure on her psyche. Her impending marriage exerts such a pressure, making her increasingly vulnerable to market pressures, encapsulated by the unspecific, capitalised pronoun ''~he~.''~~In the novel's final version, Marian fails to diagnose her gradua1 mental dissolution. The reader can understand Marian's failing resistance only through inference.

Marian's traumatic experience at the hair-salon is followed by her passage through a department store. Her troubled state of mind is even more exposed here. In a half-dazed fiame of mind, she is susceptible to the illusory suggestions of store decoration, resulting in hallucinatory effects: "She found herself walking through a field

Howells refers to Atwood's study of Rider Haggard's novel & to explain Atwood's interest in the use of unspecified or arnbiguous pronouns (Marczaret Atwood 93). of artificial flowers made of life-like plastic, neon-bright petals, rubbery leaves and giant fems, vines trailing down fiom hanging pots and wall-brackets." The seeds of this experience, already present in the first draft (1 8.15.2~and 3r), are drarnatically expanded in the second. The second draft also specifies the psychological impact of her experience:

"niey were merely tasteless in restaurants; but here, . . . repeated and repeated, each exactly the same, she found them (alamiing) As Marian loses her powers of discrimination, the trip becomes a nightrnarish episode in consumerland: "They were cleverly done: phpsit was the slight possibility that they might after al1 be dive that disturbed her. PL" She wanted to get away from them. . . .

She clutched her cardboard box and repressed the urge to run" (1 8.29.15). Marian's experience of the store becomes increasingly labyrinthine and confusing as she loses herself in the glas department:

She was in a translucent gkffeRRg space: glas shelves, piles of glas

dishes, ta11 crystal decanters. 17) She was encased. aKeii: {Her ears)

filled with high vibration, icy as the tinkle of a chandelier. She saw herself

racing blindly through these glas walls, eeefRtRttRg [sic], smashing . . .

but Carefûl [sic], Don't move, her mind ordered. She stood quite still,

ngid with panic (1 8.29.15, Atwood's elision).

Glass and chinaware bear an allusion to her parents' urging her to name a pattern for her wedding gifts. The passage also provides an anticipatory reference to the first two drafts' analysis, which correlate Duncan and Marian's relationship with Hans Christian

Andersen's faj, tale "The Snow Queen," a tale in which a girl, Gerda, saves a boy, Kay, from the clutches of the evil Snow Queen. Marian is here metaphorically entenng the

Snow Queen's palace with its disorienting glitter and reflections.

This dense pattern of allusion disappears, as the passage is crossed out in the second draft, to be replaced by a much more concise insert (1 8.29.13~).As in the final novel, this experience at the department store merely functions to reveal Marian's fascination with a sales demonstration. "Marian stopped for a minute on the outer fringe of the group, yf"(19.46.23). In other words, the novel's final version tones down the incident. Her inner conflict, the loss of judgement, the sense of panic, and the hallucinatory impact on her senses are transforrned into a fascination with consurnerism. The last revision drops any scepticism of consurneri~rn.~~

Paralleling Marian's loss of insight into her own fear, Atwood's revisions affect

Marian's sense of judgement. Marian's character is rewrinen repeatedly in order to remove her fleeting moments of clear insight into her engagement and relationship with

Peter. Moments of introspective pauses-Marian hiding under Len's sofa or sitting in her room-no longer lead to clear insights. Remnants of Marian's clarity of vision are edited out of the manuscnpt. Clara no longer functions as a clear-cut foi1 to the nature of

Marian's relationship; Marian's judgement of Peter becomes increasingly clouded. Even the explicit juxtaposition of conflicting views as a prime reason for Marian's mental state is revised into more ambiguous and less obvious reasons for the protagonist's dilemmas.

This final aspect of the revisions is particularly evident in the reduction of the symbolic

29 A similar moment of dream-like imagination taking complete control of Marian is ernployed in the early drafts, when Marian envisions her wedding. See above, p. 86 (1 8.28.9). use of the dolls and do11 imagery. The early concept of the dolls as an extended syrnbol for a troubled sense of identity in which Marian can no longer discriminate between reality and imagination places the protagonist on the edge of schizophrenia, a characterisation which no longer holds true in the final novel.

Rebalancing Po wer Politics While removing hints of Marian's mental imbalance, Atwood's revisions simultaneously and significantly alter her protagonist's position in a complex web of power politics. More specifically, the revisions weaken Marian's position in her relationships with Ainsley, Peter. and Duncan. Her relationship to Ainsley shifts from a clearly superior, even condescending intellectual and moral position in the first two drafts to a more equivocal comection in the 1st. Her relationship to Peter loses its explicitly voiced cnticism as well as any moments of cntical insight. Most importantly, the protagonist's relationship to Duncan is drastically revised, again minimising Marian's role. The protagonist's analysis and insights reveal important facets of the three most influential people in her tale. However, out of the need to maintain the protagonist's psychological credibility, those insights are reduced and left to the reader's own judgement. Marian's more enigmatic character produces gaps which the reader needs address.

Marian and her Room-mate Authonal intervention restructures the relationship between Marian and her room- mate. In the first two drafts, Marian judges herself to be in a stable position, holding up their household, even when the stability eventually proves to be false. Marian also sees herself as morally and intellectually superior to her roorn-mate, about whom she voices several disparaging remarks in the drafts. The scales which measure the power between

Marian and Ainsley tip more heavily on Marian's side in the early drafts. Revision eventually shifts the weight towards a more ambiguous balance.

Especially in the first draft's opening chapter, which contains a lengthy block charactensation, Marian expresses a strongly critical view of her room-mate. Marian focuses condescendingly on the contradictions in her roorn-mate's character as she shifts fiom child-like innocence to overt sensuality. Marian's observations clearly reflect the irony of the room-mate's name in the first ciraft, Angela: "certain of her features tend to suggest fire-and-brimstone" (18.1.10). The physical characteristic which underlines

Angela's devilish characteristic is her "long red hair," even if an insert imrnediately modifies this assertion with "it's not the flarning kind, it's a dark red." At the same time.

Atwood gives Marian's room-mate the physical attributes of a mother-goddess: "at first glance you think she's plump, but that's just because she has bulbous breasts and a very cushioney bekd {hips) ." As a contrast with the room-mate's sensual body, Marian describes her face as:

caught somehow between her body + her hair, is of aa {such} innocence

that any observer . . . would find the combination both . . . ambiguous +

{unlikely). . . . Her face is as {white &} round and blunt as a baby's, with

a blankness of expression to match. She has a tiny ~I&WR-& {burnp for} a

nose and an infant's weetk& (pink frilly } oyster-moist mouth (1 8.1.1 1)

Marian draws special attention to her room-mate's "{large blue) eyes which she can make eeap totally round and vacant when she wants to" (18.1.1 Ov). Marian clearly recognises her fnend's rnanipulative powers as she describes their interview with the prospective landlady during which "[Angela] had the sense to put on her empty-eyed idiot expression" (1 8.1.1 1).

Marian's assessrnent of her room-mate undergoes modification in the second draft. Descnbing her eyes as "ping-pong balls" (1 8.19.1 l), Marian voices deprecatory opinions of her friend's effect on men. This critique focuses on an apparent discrepancy between mind and body. In the second drafk, Atwood removes these derogatory remarks fkom Marian's voice and instead transforms them into an element of Ainsley's own self- awareness: "since many men find her incongruous combination of lushness and apparent vapidity irresistible, {as she M-shas let me know} she{'s) kaskae an experienced juggler of the male ego" (1 8.19.12). Marian's active and sharp power of judgement is thus changed to the passivity ofa mere witness. This second drafi shifts the insight from

Marian to Ainsley and provides Ainsley with greater dignity, but relieves Marian of her sharp tongue.

The fint full draft describes their household as a "teetering triangular structure," a feeble structure that exists between her landlady and her room-mate, a structure which the protagonist sees herself as keeping "balanced" (1 8.19.12). The protagonist positions herself as mediator between the two women whom she considers to be equaily appalling:

They can't understand one another, and therefore each of them regards the other as a witch. ~RHRW Being in the middle and understanding both of them, 1 am much more sensible about it; 1 regard them both as witches" (18.19.13). This blackening of the characters of the landlady and the room-mate assumes a Marian with seemingly greater objectivity, while later, of course, the events show her to be capable of seriously misjudging her own existence. While the second drafi has Marian assume a stabilising

effect on the household, Marian invests herself with a fdse assurance about her identity:

"1 think it's because 1 am more or less what 1 seem (1 think), whereas it's the conflict

between outer husk and inner being that causes the fiction between the other two"

(1 8.19.12). She considers herself to be certain about her own identity, never believing

that her supenor position might be undermined. This fdse self-assurance subtly raises

the height fiom which the protagonist will eventually topple. Atwood's revision

eliminates Marian's apparently objective judgement. The reader is lefi with no explicit

explanation of Marian's role in these living arrangements.

Marian's cornparison of Ainsley to a witch in this version is paralleled by a later

scene in the novel in which Maria.distances herself fiom her room-mate by considering

her a mad woman. Angela has announced her scheme to become pregnant. From its

initial conception in the first draft (1 8.6.14), Marian's judgement is significantly

intensified in the second draft to read: "1 hesitated between telling &gela (Ainsley) she was stark raving mad{,) and pretending for the moment to agree with her aRé {. 1) chose the latter course as being the safest {one to follow) with {the hopelessly insane)"

(1 8.2 1.2). Marian sharply criticises her room-mate's manipulative behaviour. These negative views of Ainsley's usual strategies are expressed early in the novel's conception

(18.29.16). However, Atwood removes them in her last draft to read: "Ainsley ewally ,,, {did not usi^rilndly lose) her temper" (19.46.25). Likewise, some of the more explicit disparagements of

Ainsley's intellectuai capacities are eliminated fiom the last draft. The second draft still deprives her of credible materna1 feelings and has her instead spout clichés: "'[The] relationship between mother and unbom child is the loveliest and closest in the world,'

S~MSWEshe continued in k {a) text-book quoting voice" (1 8.27.8). However, the final draft eliminates any explicit disparagement of Marian's room-mate: '"Genetics are deceptive anyway,' she went on; borne real geniuses have children that aren't bright at

1 7

7'( 1A). This revision echoes the suggestion of Angela's inferior intelligence in the first draft's description of Angela's hairstyle as "a modified beehive which made her look slightly hydrocephalic" ( 18.1 .IO).

nie earlier drafi reveals Marian's greater exasperation over Ainsley's cold- blooded strategising over the fathering of her child: "She reminded me more than {I liked} of a farmer discussing cattle-breeding. 'Any pqee~suitable !%uehprospect in mind?' 1 almost said 'stud"' (18.6.14). Atwood's revision presents a double-voiced layer of restrained interlocutor and ironic siient commentator. In the draft, Marian pokes fun at

Ainsley's plans for getting pregnant with a sarcasm which implies that Marian is still in control. In the same manner, Marian reveals a much stronger sarcastic edge when she muses about the possible consequences of Ainsley's choosing a father with specific undesirable charactenstics: "'Nor one with heavy stubble either,' 1 said, trying to be helpful, 'especidly if it's a girl"' (1 8.21.3). The last component of her remark- bbespeciallyif it's a girl," which needlessly drives home the pointdoes not sunrive in the published book. Again, Atwood's trend of revision moves fiom explicit and heavy sarcasm to more irnplicit and lighter irony. In the early version of the conversation over Ainsley's cravings for motherhood,

Marian is strong enough simply to leave the discussion. This energy cornes fiom

Marian's certainty about her opposing point of view:

[Ainsley's] rational deliberations about her project were beginning to

convince me that she might be sane after dl, at least in some directions. 1

thought 1 had better go out and do my beer-commercial interviews before

she had convinced me that 1 should bgettmg {rush off to get) myself

pregnant in order to fulfil my deepest femininity, too (1 8.2 1.3).

The Marian we meet in the first draft strongly expresses her views and opinions, frequently taking the moral and intellectual high road in judging her room-mate.

However, Atwood's revisions drain Marian of this strength. Her occasional caustic sarcasm is replaced with more subtle doses of gentle irony.

This shift in the revision of Marian's relationship with her room-mate reinforces a pattern outlined in the discussion of Atwood's revisions of the room-mate's narne. Just as the character's satincal name "Angela Tush" disappears fiom the novel, so too Atwood now delegates value judgernents of Atwood's behaviour to the reader. Marian loses the satirist's overtly critical voice. The comic ironies of the text become more subtle and are left to the reader for decoding.

Marian and Peter From draft to drafl, Atwood also weakens Marian's position in the relationship with Peter. Marian loses her ability to resist his expectations and to cnticise his behaviour. In the fust two drafts, the first scene which demonstrates Marian's self- &mation in relation to Peter consists of her running away after drinks at the roof-top hotel bar.

In the early drafts, the protagonist defines her own situation in stronger terms, frequently conscious of her victimisation. In the second draft, for example, her escape from the Park Plan is motivated by viewing the bar as "an elaborate srnothering trap"

(18.22.1 1). Her reckoning-"1 eyed the doors and windows, calculating distances. I had to get out" (1 8.22.1 1bfashions her with the willpower to escape fiom a situation which she perceives as life-threatening. imrnediately before her escape, she anticipates the crisis with an utterance which can be taken both literally and metaphorically: "'Ah,' 1 said, breathing in deeply, 'the storm is coming'." While smacking of yet another ironic reference to pathetic fallacy, the passage also implies a self-awareness of the impact of her decision to run.

Similarly, the protagonist's feeble efforts consciously to take control of her relationship are revised to eliminate Marian's-and the reader'sdirect insight into such attempts. Upon her taking flight, Marian responds to Peter's yelled question, "Marion, where afe {do you think} you are going?" in an openly defiant manner: '"Away!' 1 shouted, flinging my arms into the air" (18.9.2). In the final version, Peter's response to

Marian's taking flight is a touch ruder-Peter yells "Where the hell . . .'-and Marian does not respond verbally at ai1 ( 19.4 1.22-23). In the first draft, Marian's response is credited as "1 was suddenly in very high spirits, almost laughg. 1 wasn't being dependable anymore." Marian's emotional state of mind implies a greater consciousness of what she is doing: running "away" and refusing to be "dependable." At the same time the earlier draft allows Marian an awareness of the great risk she is taking: "Ail at once I was fnghtened again" (1 8.9.2)' highlighting once more the recurring motif of fear.

Atwood's two early drafts, which include explicit references to Marian's refusal to be

dependable, provide the protagonist with an intuitive awareness of the risks involved in

such haphazardly gained independence. Marian's flight from Peter initially contains an

emancipatory undertone. The escape is more directly seen as a flight from the

relationship as well as fiom rationality and dependability.

However, Atwood's revisions make Marian's motivation less overt. They reduce

her actions, comparing them to child's play: "I was filled with the exhilaration of speed;

it was like a game of tag" (1 9.4 1.22). The passage now implies mere irresponsibility

rather than actual emancipation. While there is a greater indication in the early drafts that

Marian is attempting to terminate this relationship by breaking away from Peter-that is,

Marian is more aware of her intentions-the implication is that breaking away fiom Peter

causes the protagonist's high spirits. In the final text, the protagonist remains unaware of

such motivation. Instead, the final version infantilises her and turns her into a child-like,

unself-conscious being who initiates her action because she enjoys the speed and game-

like quality of her behaviour for its own sake. Only when the pursuit starts in earnest

does she redise: "Al1 at once it was no longer a game" (1 9.41.23).

In the first two drafts, Marian continues to assert herself following her flight fiom

the Park Plaza hotei. Confionting her pursuers Len and Peter, Marian meets them with an

ironic comment to ward off their disapproval. Like the first draft (1 8.9.4), the second presents Maria's words as an attempt to justiq to Peter her weeping at the Park Plaza and her fleeing fiom him afterwards: Tmstone-cold sober. 1 just felt like a little exercise, that's al1 darling.' 1

added (reprovingly,) 'Don't be silly,' because it was only by thinking of

them al1 as colossally silly for being puzzled and alarmed for chasing afier

me that 1 could avoid thinking of myself as a total idiot. At that moment. 4

kite with Peter solid and encircling beside me, 1 hadn't the least idea why 1

had run away (1 8.22.14).

While Marian's behaviour is inexplicable to herself, she is equipped with enough strength

to keep a facade of self-composure, to tum against her accusers, and to dismiss them with

"don't be silly." In order to avoid a loss of self-esteem-"thinking of myself as a total

idiotv-she displaces this negative attribute on to Peter. While the drafts show her

system of self-defence at work, the revisions make her admit loss of self-control: "I'm

fine." 1 said, "of course I'm al1 right. 1 don't know waht [sic] got into me" (19.41.24).

Significant alterations in the relationship between Marian and Peter also occur in

the passage relating their dimer at a restaurant. In the drafts, Marian's thought betrays a

decidedly critical stance towards Peter's approach to sexual relationships. Initially, the dry, analytical humour is closer to that of Atwood the satirist than to the voice of Marian the character: "Maybe he had got hold of one of those hideous marriage-manuals. . . . it

would be like Peter{, she thought with derogatory fondness}" (1 8.12.4-5). Here we witness the character's confusion in satirking Peter while simultaneously expressing wmfeelings about him. She deems his behaviour questionable but at the same time she thinks of him "with derogatory fondness." The passage epitomises Marian's schizophrenic attitude towards Peter. This radical contradiction contains the root of

Marian's dilemma. While the final novel retains Marian's reference to the manual, in the drafts

Atwood specifies the nature of the manual in detail. In the drafts, such thinking provides the protagonist with an extended passage of criticai distance. The 'marriage manual' passage from the first draft is slightly rnodified and expanded in the second draft. The second draft posits woman as passive object to be manipulated like a musical instrument:

She visualised the type of thing it would deek-ksbe, making a pastiche

of similar offerings she had skimmed fûrtively in bookstores. Surely the

ones that told you a woman's body was like a beautifid violin on which a

previously unmusicai begimer, {even a tone-deaf one,} could leam to play

dazzling arpeggios of sensation, and becorne with minimal practice a

skilled performer-tkswk# the They-Laughed- When-1-Sat-Down-At-

The-Piano approach - +vas were out of date; she hoped so.

While setting Peter's choice off fiom this extremely negative example, the draft specifies what Marian considers Peter capable of consulting:

But it was doubtless 'How to Make Marriage Tick,' subtitled ' 10 1 Ways

To Service Your Wife.' With easy-to-follow diagrams. The kind that

always began with a joyfûl {limbbkg inspirationai) telling you that Love

was an Art, and then proceeded [fl6:] to demonstrate that it was al1 too

palpably a crafi. Or a 'technique': that was the word they used. A series

of {clever) gimmicks invented for the avoidance of boredom (1 8.26.15-

16).

The removal of this passage fiom the last draft (19.36.9) provides yet another instance when Marian loses her critical stance toward Peter. He is no longer recognised as a naive consumer of self-help books and objectifier of women. At the same time, the elirnination

of the passage removes highly metaphoricd language from Marian's thought, bnnging

her in line with her newly developed character: she loses her aptitude for being a skilled

manipulator of words.

The draft continues to elaborate on Marian's exploration of Peter's sexual

choices, further exemplifjing her critical attitude toward his behaviour. Her reverie in the

bathtub before the party-which reminds us of the bath-tub as a location for sex-tnggers

her association of Peter with the epithet "antiseptic" (18.18.9). She sees Peter's folly as

indicative of his character and she distmsts his polished, immaculate surface:

Perhaps he had intended it as an expression of his personality (- the event

in the bathroorn,} not bathrooms in general, but this particular bathroom.

so clean & white & new; spotless, FeeteRgitlaF rectilinear, almost

featureless, as yet without the chips and cracks and stains in the porcelain

that are in older bathrooms the equivalent of scars and lines in a face. He

wanted to unite the organic and the antiseptic in one place & with one act

(1 8.8.9).

The deletion of this passage also removes metaphorical ianguage from Marian's thought.

At the sarne time, it removes a caustic comment on Peter's personality.

Marian's most significant direct criticism of Peter's behaviour is found early in the drafts, where she rejects her role as Peter's cook. Her first cnticism is subtle:

"[Wlhen he said peevishly looking over my shoulder (which 1 hate) . . . 'My God, why

&m+m smoked meat & fiozen peas again. Why don? you ever cook anythuig?' 1 was somewhat annoyed" (18.8.14). However, she then expresses her displeasure quite vocally, in outspoken opposition to his presumptions. While the finished nuvel represses

Marian's sharp comrnents, in the drafts she rebels against his attempt to recniit her for domestic duties:

'But if you think 1 am going to spend 3 hours a{reducing) a

subtle sauce over a low flame on a day like this, you're {mad}. I've

been out in the heat all [fl5] day garnering interviews. If you want a W

eewe (seventeen-course} dinner with fingerbowls and fishforks you'd

better locate someone who has lots of time to spare, or better still, a

4eAy {devoted} accomplished wife.' That was nasty of me, 1 suppose: it

must have driven in the knife about Trigger, because Peter went out of the

kitchen without another word (1 8.8.14- 15).30

This passage depicts an open conflict between Peter and Marian with a candour not found anywhere in the published novel. The different views about their roles are nowhere spelled out so clearly as here. In the first draft, Marian rejects the role of the domestic wife which Peter is obviously scripting for her. She does not easily subordinate herself to

Peter's will and regimen:

1 could hear hirn stomping about in the livingroom. I'm still not quite sure

why I said it. A flicker of {pure} malice, perhaps except that I detected a

note of self-pity in my own voice. That was stmrge (peculiar), because

both of us had rather prided ourselves on the sewakky sensibleness[?]

30 The motif of dedicated domesticity, expressed through producing a gourmet sauce, is recycled for use in Atwood's short story "Bluebeard's Egg," in her epynomous collection (133). The pattern of the chauvinist male is previously explored in "The Game," MS.e (79.1 1.19), one of the pre-novel fragments. {of our relationship) and {the) absence of entangling strings, apron-,

pusse-. and heart- ( 18.8.1 5).

Marian's blunt criticisrn of Peter's expectations disappears from the narrative, as do the

moments of introspection.

Atwood's early drafts continue to show a much stronger potential for critical

distance in Maian. Witness Marian's criticism of Peter's lack of sociability at the dinner

Party:

[Slurely Peter hadn't even tried. He ?d-k&hadn't even concealed

{ himselfj properly, he had let 0boredom and

imtation {show). The {most) unfair part was that she had hakt feee$

(handled) similar encounters with his own fiends at tb+eiew

etk {many) parties; or rather with their wives; but he had always been at

the other side of the room, and hadn't heard (18.28.9).

The passage clearly indicates Marian's disappointment with Peter's behaviour and constitutes another instance of Marian's doubt about the feasibility of her relationship with Peter.

Marian's criticism of Peter continues to be removed from the drafts. In the first draft, Marian jokingly refers to Peter and his fnends as "Soap Men" (18.13.16) in order to connote their clean-smelling appearances. in this instance, however, a difFerent tactic of revision is irnplied. While the satire of Peter's fiiends remains, in the final version the comical insight is no longer part of Marian's point of view. Instead, the epithet is attributed to a remark made by Ainsley. The sarne re-attribution of critical remarks takes place with the observation of Peter being "nicely packageci" (18.26.12). Marian's character is deprived of these gently mocking and cntical insights; Marian loses an overtly critical voice. instead, the reader is left to interpret Peter's treatrnent of women and specifically his attitude towards Marian.

Marian and Duncan In the drafts, Duncan generally functions as a catalyst for Marian's rationalisation of her own situation near the end of the novel. The revisions of Marian's last scenes with

Duncan eventually remove dl explicit labels fiom Marian's situation and depict her as a more passive character, a tendency already observed in other revised passages, such as

Marian's discussion with her fiiend Clara. However, the changes in the relations between

Marian and Duncan are crucial for the novel's resolution.

Atwood's reworking of their first encounter during the consumer beer interview sets the tone for depicting their relationship in the later revisions. For exarnple, self- assertion is eliminated when the protagonist feels threatened. After her interview with

Duncan, Marian leaves his apartment in a composed and self-determined fashion, an atîitude which the revision modifies, eiiminating her composure: "He {actually} grimed? . . as 1 a{marched} to the doorway" (19.40.34).

While maintaining Marian's determination and purpose, the passage no longer confirms her self-awareness. Instead, Marian's insecurity shows.

Her second visit to Duncan-to bring him her ironing as requested-continues to reveal the trend in Atwood's revisions. The first draft of this scene includes a line which implies Marian's active participation in this flirtation-"She ran one of her fmgers dong his cheek bone" (1 8.1 1.17). However, even in this draft, Atwood already deletes this line. What remains is Marian's passively suflenng Duncan's embrace. This loss of active participation is typical of the revisions' direction.

In the drafts, their next encounter-the first in the laundromat-reduces Marian to a school-girl silliness. Far fiom intimidating Marian, Duncan's kiss simply induces laughter:

{The whole &mg incident had been so much like !the jerky attractions and

repulsions ofJ those small {trashy) plastic dogs with rnagnets on the

bottoms vrkiek ge-tewaF8s atm 1

remembered from birthday parties that 1kgid giggled

uncontrollably al1 the way down the subway steps ( 18.1 0a. 10).

The event is seen as natural, if not inevitable. The ovea simile underlines the juvenile nature of their encounter. It is maintained throughout the revisions until cut in the last draft (1 9.42.22). The sirnile puts the protagonist into a situation where she ioses her will power. It even evokes the rhetoric of objectification which elsewhere depicts Marian as a do11 or Puppet figure. At the same time, however, it underlines the joy and playfulness of the encounter. The revision of this passage eliminates the carefiee innocence, allowing room for the depth of an adult.

Yet up to the final draft, their encounter is strongly flavoured by Marian's puritanical upbringing and a tone of conventional moral disapproval. Removing her blouse so that Duncan may iron it, Marian is expressly aware of breaking a taboo: "[Olne didn't &er dl, put on the dressing-gowns of people one hardly knew, (let alone taking off one's clothes in their bedrooms)" (1 8.26.7). Marian's position in their relationship is also weakened in the revisions as she loses insight into his manipulations. One instance provides a particularly marvellous image of Duncan's behaviour. It describes his objectification of Marian as a children's toy, "{he swing spun her once around by the am^ like a yo-yo on a string)" (18.18.5). Here, Duncan's manipulative behaviour is on the sarne level as Peter's, handling her like a marionette." However, this passage is cut in the last draft (1 9.45.32). Similady, Marian loses insight into Duncan's irony. When

Duncan makes provocative statements in the museurn, Marian's response is revised in later venions. She consciously refrains fiom commenting when she realises he may not be serious. This sharing of his ironic stance is eliminated in the revision. Her perceptiveness is simply gone: "'6 . . { ws not natural to like it,' she protested, turning toward him. He was) grinning at her"

(19.45.32).

In the first two drafts , the power relationship clearly tips in Marian's favour: she sees Duncan as vulnerable and as an animal to be fed.

As usual he looked like a moulting bird, with his hair sticking out in al1

directions like scrufQ feathers. The image in my minci was one of a

fledgling being kicked out of the nest, but I wasn't sure which one of us

was being kicked [. . .].'

He must have caught the note of (protective} compassion in my

voice-though it may possibly have been there for myself.

{Before,) feeding him {had) always given me the {generous}

3' See p. 63. feeling of setting a bouquet before a starving animal. &&ww 1 had

some doubts {now} about, {whether there had ever been an animal, and)

who the animal was. {[ins f. 27v:I Now 1 had some rnisgivings: had there

ever been an animal, + if so, who was it?) (1 8.18.27-28).

By next ascribing to him the qualities of a mythologicd creature, Duncan's rnysterious qualities are exaggerated even mer,an attribute which Atwood again cuts in the last ciraft: "I'm not human at dl, h+kme&& 1 corne fiom the underground" (1 9.44.6).32

These passages provide insight into Atwood's revision of Marian's relationship with Duncan. However, the most drastic changes concem the pair's last three scenes: their last encounter in the laundromat after her flight fiom the engagement Party, their walk in the snow the next day, and the final interview in Marian's apartment. These crucial passages contribute much to the novel's ultimate tesolution.

Atwood's rewriting continues with Marian's justification of her presence in the laundromat after her flight fiom the Party. In the first two drafts, Marian is able to explain her seemingly irrational behaviour as stemming fiom a combination of her phobia about Peter's carnera and her fear of losing control. She is able to rationalise this loss of control over her actions. However, in the last revision Marian cannot explain her presence in the laundromat without being afiaid of sounding irrational:

'' Although mostly gendered in the feminine, the underground is a significant to~osin Atwood's pnvate mythology. For Atwood's use of the underground, especiaily in her use of the Persephone myth, see Sandra Dwja. '1 was afraid, . . . this is &#y, but 1 She couldn't think of a reason {that

was afiaid of Peter of his camera. 1 didn't wouldn't sound absurd. ) ' Because*

mean to but al1 of a sudden 1 was just saki+ I just wanted to be with you.' Ske

mingaway. 1 don't know what's the

matter with me; 1 don't seem to have any

control over what 1 do aaymwe aïyhjp (1 9.48.1).

{these days).

'Some would Say that you have

{ fortunately managed to} overcome your

inhibitions and acquired spontaneity,'

Duncan said, she couldn't tell whether he

was being wry or not . . . .

'It's not like that,' she said; 'it's as

though something else is doing it . . .'

(1 8.18.7).

The clarity of rational insight disappears, replaced by an admission of her own perplexity.

Parallel to the passages discussed above, Atwood drastically reduces the moment of

introspection. More specifically, Atwood removes the explicit reference to Marian's

behaviour as motivated by fear.

The revisions significantly affect how Atwood views Marian's relationship with

Duncan. By the end, they re-balance the existing relationship in his favour. Unlike the published version, the early drafts have Marian receive earnest and compassionate advice frorn Duncan near the novel's conclusion. Marian takes his cornments with a grain of salt

and benefits fiom her insight into the mechanisms of his as well as Peter's manipulation.

Their walk together in the snow undergoes substantial revision. In the early

draffs, Marian finds herself in the hands of an eamest and cornpassionate partner, a man

who is willing to lead an analytic discussion about her affairs (19.23.12ff). Although

Duncan's egotism is revealed as ingrained-in the first draft he initiates their

conversation with a reference to his own, improved situation-Duncan nevertheless

seriously tums toward Marian. Slightly extended fiom the first draft (1 8.18.6), the

passage in the second draft now reads:

'1 don't want to interfere or anything, I rnean it's none of my business, and

really I'm just sort of curious. but what about al1 that last night? 1 rnean it

was very nice and all, . . . but what about you? 1

rnean, why? It rnay be a lack of subtle perceptiveness on my pan to

suggest a connection, but 1 thought you were gening married and so on'

(1 8.32.5).

Symptomatic of Duncan's character as described in the early drafts is his repeated

questioning of Marian's affairs. Through his line of questioning, Duncan is made to care

enough that he overcomes her initial hesitation to talk about herself. Duncan's character

is seen as more straightforward and honest here than in the final version where his exploitation of Marian is clearer. In the final novel, Duncan duplicitously claims at first

that their sexual encounter "hatched [hirn] into manhood" and "solved al1 Fs] problems," whereas it tums out next that his expenence with Marian was not his first:

Duncan admits it was "fine; just as good as usual" (EW 264). In this scene, the early drafts abandon Duncan's usual egotism. In the first draft

(1 8.18.10) as well as in a slightly modified form in the second, this unexpected feature is also noted by Marian:

'So what are you afraid of, really?' Duncan's voice said.

To have Duncan asking questions about her, and actually seeming

interested in the answers, was such a divergence from their previous

pattern that Marian hesitated before replying ( 18.32.7).

While Duncan's attentiveness to Marian is new, Atwood weakens this development by changing Duncan's "being actually prepared to 1isten"-an assertion of fact in the first draft-into "seeming interested," a more tenuous assurnption in the second draft.

In the first full draft, Marian perceptively identifies her dilen-ma as being manipulated into passivity.33 During her walk with Duncan in the ravine, Marian's self- analysis continues to provide explicit interpretations of her dilemma as arising From fear.

In her own analysis, this fear has two components, the threat to her identity and to her eating disorder. Since she is ciearly aware of the origins of her fear in the novel's first draft, Marian answers Duncan's question by replying:

'I'm not sure,' she said carefully into the gray air. '1 know it isn't just

Peter. {[insert fiom 9v:] 1 start feeling smothered by things and 1 seem to

be afiaid of dissolving, but then at other times I'm afiaid of {geiting SU&

{stuck} fiozen) ef (or) not being able to move. But most of al1 i&4&

'-- '-- it's this food thing.' She felt a pang of

33 This self-analysis establishes a link with the recurring theme of dolls and puppets elsewhere. hunger as she spoke, Tmafiaid of eating, {most of the time 1 seem to

have lost my appetite completely}, but I'm afraid of not eating too.'

€kksFunny, she thought, how detached I'm being (1 8.18.10 and

similar in 18.32.7-8).

Particularly acute are Marian's observations about her threatened identity, which she

expresses in three different metaphors: fear of being smothered, of dissolving, and of

fieezing. The metaphors of dissolving and freezing resonate with earlier, similar uses:

after Peter's carnera flash, Marian felt her face dissolving and the barrier between her

present self and her upbringing is expressed as frozen rnemo~y.~'Marian's analysis is

furthered through Duncan's presence; he functions as a catalyst to analysing her fear.

Their last encounter in the ravine also produces an explicit diagnosis of Marian's dilemma and suggests that her problems are a product of her fantasies, imposed on her rather than fieely chosen like those of Duncan: "you don't seem to be happy with yours; you seem to be getting them imposed on you from somewhere else" (18.32.8). Duncan's analysis echoes Marian's insight fiom the laundromat passage: "it's as though something else is doing it" (18.18.7).

While in the first draft, Duncan dnves home his psychological analysis, Atwood irnmediately eliminates this explicit presentation of two opposing options for Marian:

'Okay then; the next thing isw-now this is going to sound very

pimply and adolescent, . . . but it needs to be asked anyway: what do you

want?{'} )

" Compare also her fear of dissolving while taking a bath before the party and the motif of fieezing in the tale of "The Snow Queen," p. 134. f+€ (1 8.18.1 1).

Instead of allowing Duncan to suggest these two choices-be "married" or "a career woman"-Atwood's revision of the first drafi shifts this insight to the protagonist herself. In the second clraft, Marian's self-diagnosis covers opposing options, but they are superseded by the overarching desire: "1 want to be safe." Atwood eliminates the distancing effect16she heard herself saying"-of Marian's self-observation. The effect is far more direct:

{[insert fiom lOv:] 1 suppose 1 should Say 1 want to be rnarried, or 1 want

to have a career or 1 want to be independent or have children or

something,' she 4{found herself saying} after a minute, 'but that isn't

it. ) 1 want to be safe,' '1 kephegthink I'm

afiaid that no matter what 1 do, 1'11 &wdwg find out 1 really have

nothing' (18.18.10~-11).

In this passage, Marian rationally diagnoses her problem as a set of binary choices between marriage or a professional career on the one hand and financial secuity or financial nsk on the other-a choice which the final novel never can state in such direct ternis. Atwood eliminatzs these overt interpretative labels, leaving her protagonist as well as her reader to construct their own meaning.

When Duncan responds rather enigmatically to Marian's final request for advice-"'Ah,' . . . 'Then it's very simple'-and then momentarily drifts off-"He was silent for ittft several minutes" (18.18.1 1-s conversation finally reveals a willingness to accept Marian on her own terrns. This discussion results in his offer of sympathetic, if commonplace, advice in the first hvo drafts. Marian has to make her own choices. The

passage contains the key elements to the novel's resolution. The protagonist is

encouraged to be active and "do something even if just as a token geshire" (1 8.18.1 1v and

18.32.9). The means are clearly there to take charge. The passage in the first and second

drafts prepares the reader for the novel's symbolic solution involving the ~ake-~'a token

gesture"-more directly than does the finai novel.

After these rare moments of sympathy, Duncan falls back to his regular distance.

She pleads for km to come with her to talk to Peter, but Duncan refuses: "'you have to

go away now.' His y faee {voice}, faintly hostile again" (1 8.18.1 1 v). On the

other hand, Marian seems to have partly accomplished her healing process, as she gains a

new independence:

She looked back once, when she was halîway up the hillside. {S-k+we&

-1. -1. %e In a way, she decided, she was

glad that he had refused to come with her. She almost expected him to

have vanished (18.18.12, similar in 18.32.100.

Marian receives an impetus to seek a solution by doing something, based on Duncan's advice. His impetus finally leads to Marian's baking of the cake woman. Marian is finally capable of a more detached self-analysis. However, in the final version, Duncan leaves Marian entirely to her own devices. No hint at an imminent solution is given.

The tendency of the previous changes continues in the revisions of Marian and

Duncan's final encounter over coffee and cake. Here the change in Marian's character is followed through and her position of regained strength and self-confidence is consistently weakened. While startled by Duncan's sudden arrival, in the frst drafi Marian initiates the meeting: '"Must you creep up like that?' 1 said, but 1 was glad to see him. 1 had

phoned him earlier + told him what had happened, but we both knew it had to

be discusseà" (1 8.18.22). Here it is Marian's old self which again is in control. Her self-

assurance is juxtaposed with Duncan's nervousness:

He seemed more nervous than ever. He put his hands in his pockets and

made a quick {tour) of the apartment, looking through al1 the open doors,

gazing for a moment at the chaos in my bedroom. . . .

[He] started gnawing on one of his thumbs. 1 teek {pulled) it out

of his mouth & kissed him on the forehead. He started to fiddle with the

salt & pepper shakers ( 18.1 8.23-24).

Marian even adopt~a symbolic mother r01e.'~ In the closing passages of the nove17s first two drafts, the early Maian is provided with greater self-confidence and detemination throughout; Marion makes Duncan wait until she has finished her cleaning: "I was impatient to be done. 'Look, Dunk,' 1 said, '1711just finish cleaning these windows and then 1'11 make coffee + we can talk"' (18.18.23). At the end of the first draft, Marian fully regains her old eficiency as opposed to her situation in the final novel which hints symbolically at unfinished business by indicating "there were several windows left uncleaned" (EW 278). Indeed, in the early drafts, Duncan even helps her with house- cleaning: "He watched for a while, then took up a clean rag and started on another window. We polished away in silence" (18.1 8.23).

35 This passage parallels an earlier incident. During their second encounter in the laundromat, Maria.is shown to reveal matemal feelings-"~' ( 18.23.16)-in the second ciraft. In the final dr&, Duncan ridicules this motherliness and rejects it. The first draft explicitly labels Duncan's role in Marian's life with a fixed interpretation. She calls it their 'semi-explanation': "'You were a kind of counterbalance for Peter. 'As 1 said it 1 suddenly realized that since Peter had vanished 1 had begun thinking of Dunk as a replacement rather than an escape. But that was impossible; it would tip the balance again, but in another direction. They had been a package deal"

(18.18.27). Marian acknowledges her need for Duncan. At the same tirne, she redises that she must overcome this dependency, a situation described in the language of consurnerism as "a package deal." At the conclusion of the first draft, consurnerism obviously no longer appeals to her.

While the relationship between Marian and Peter has been associated with allusions to Bluebeard, Duncan too is associated with fairy tale motifs in the drafts.

Duncan uses Hans Christian Andersen's tale "The Snow Queen" as a parable to illuminate their relationship:

Tve got a new version of the old formula. You remember the pair in the

one about the snow-queen-the boy gets a sliver d {from aln evill

broken mirror} in his eye and starts to see everythng as ugly and distorted,

and he has to go to the ice-palace and try to fit together the pieces of a

puzzle but he can't do it, and the girl sets out to rescue him and solves the

puzzle, it s~ells- Love, and everythmg melts, including the glass sliver, and

suddenly they're grown-up, with roses and so on. They've been making

that movie for years. Well, in my version she melts everythng too but when the sliver of glas dissolves, his eye dissolves with it.' He flicked

away his cigarette and put his hands in his pocket (1 8.3 1.16).36

In the second draft, the cause of the evil-following the original fairy tale-is expressed through one of Atwood's most important metaphors, "an evil broken mirror." The puzzle's solution, on the other hand, is spelled out in divergence from the original tale. In the Andersen fairy tale the evil Snow Queen wants the boy to spell out reason, as the solution to her puzzle, but in Duncan's version the novel "Love" is the root of the problem. The dichotomy between reason and love reflects the draft version scene in the matemity ward where Clara embodies idealistic love-her attachment to her husband is based on strong emotional ties-whereas Maian simply clings to her rational concepts of a functional relationship. Marian reasons heaelf into believing in her relationship with

Peter. The last twist in the use of Andersen's fairy tale is, of course, Duncan's subversion of the conventional happy ending. His version of the fairy tale is that of a rescue gone awry. Consequently, Atwood cuts the whuie passage which uses the fairy tale analogy

(1 9.48.2).37

The Explicit versus the lrnp/icit

A final aspect of Atwood's revision to be analysed is the author's covering of traces which lead to the preparation of the novel's resolution. The early cirafts emphasise the contrast between the explicit, the rational, and the verbal as opposed to the implicit,

36 The second draft, as quoted here, expands on the first (1 8.17.9). My underlining indicates new material in the second draft. 37 The motif of the Snow Queen also resonates with the use of snow and fieezing elsewhere, such as Duncan's fiequent association with snow or even the novel's final resolution: during the clean-up in Marian's apartment, she defiosts the refngerator and the ice falls with loud clunks. the emotional, and the symbolic. While in the drafts Atwood clearly locates Clara and

Duncan at opposite ends of this mis, Marian increasingly loses her verbal skills and moves towards the symbolic. This clear categorisation of Marian's position becomes less clear in the course of Atwood's revisions, despite the syrnbolic gesture of baking the cake woman at the novel's resolution. This reworking parallels the overall process of the novel's revision in which direct explanations are re-worked into implicit, indirect expression. The novel therefore relies increasingly on the reader's active work in decoding the text.

The protagonist's self-consciousness about her own attempts at rationality and her own thought processes disappears. As I have shown, moments of introspection are excised. Even Marian's denial of wanting to process thought disappears fiom the text, such as when Marian after her flight fiom the Party arrives at the laundromat. Atwood removes even the thought about denial fiom her protagonist's mind: ''- 1 thddm&" (19.48.4). The text no longer supplies a direct verbal expression of

Marian's thought but instead the text expresses this process indirectly: "al1 she could picture was a confusion of noises and voices and fragments of faces and flashes of bright light'' (19.48.4). Marian no longer possesses knowledge about her inability to think; instead she suffers this handicap passively and unawares.

While in the final novel Atwood de-emphasises the overtly symbolic, in the drafts she subtly prepares the reader for the novel's symbolic resolution. The prominence of the dolls as symbols of the troubled state of Marian's female identity has already been discussed. In the same vein, the first drafl exploits the symbolic power of the engagement ring. Throughout the early drafls, the ring is seen as an icon for the relationship of possessor and possessed. That Marian had been "ringed" is complemented in the fint draft with the explanation, "publicly identified as his" (1 8.13.1 6).38 Atwood's treatment of Marian as an object to be possessed dominates the second draft as well(18.28.17), but later disappears.

Up to the last draft, the ring as an icon is maintained in order to feature prominently in the narrative's conclusion with the cake woman: derrejecting the possibility of using her engagement ring as a coronet, she pushes it into the cake woman's figure as a necklace. She also presses her watch into the cake as a belt (1 8.18.17f.). The engagement ring's temporary negative fùnction as a symbol for choking and restriction is maintained through various drafis (18.32.15). In cutting through the cake woman's neck, the ring also separates the head from the body, thus underlining the prevalent problem of a symbolic split between mind and body:39

She took off her engagement ring: should it go on the head, as a kind of

coronet? No, a necklace would [fl8:] be better. She pushed it down into

the soft cake, into the neck of the woman, so that only the jewel was left

showing. She had a sudden inspiration & went & got her watch, wound it,

pressed it into the beily of the figure. Now it looked {rather} like an

(elegant antique} China figurine (1 8.18.1 7- 18).

38 This motif of men asserting ownership over women is repeated in Atwood's short story "Hurricane Hazel," in which Buddy insists on slipping his identity bracelet on to the female narrator (Biuebeard's Esq 5 1). 39 Katherine Fishbum (7 19-726) isolates the mind-body spiit as a central motif in the novel. However, she does not apply Uiis thesis to the cake woman at the novel's conclusion. However, in keeping with the pattern of stylistic change toward suggestiveness rather than explicitness, the references to both ring and watch are eliminated in the last draft

(19.48.29). Atwood's downplays the use of symbols such as the dolls and the ring. This approach may well be based on the decision to allow for greater focus on the use of the final great syrnbol, the cake woman itself.

The rnove from the explicit to the implicit is also relevant for the depiction of

Marian's loss of verbal skills, a phenornenon which is more directly formulated in the drafts. Her difficulty in choosing specific words constitutes a recuning motif throughout the drafts. The first occurrence of this motif arises in a scene at work. Revising questionnaires, she complains "she was tired, tired of being a manipulator of words"

(1 8.24.9). While later significantly reduced, language and meaning constitute a recurring motif, particularly in the second draft.

That Marian's loss of linguistic cornpetence lies at the centre of her dilemma cm be seen in the ciraft versions of Marian's discussion with Clara in the matemal ward. In the first and second drafts, Marian misleadingly attributes the problems with her relationshp to her confusion about the meaning of love. Rather than seeing love as an essential problem in her life, Marian attributes the blame to a question of serniotics; a conventional, male-defined language no longer seems applicable to her: "'What in keU

{the narne of rats} are we talking about? We probably mean something quite different.'

Simple words like that seemed to be growing more and more opaque for her thesr days"

(18.25.13). Atwood seems to explore the limitations of language to express the emotional. Although Marian is aware of the need to defme "love" for herself, meaning becomes relative and increasingly escapes definition. Marian adrnits to the same loss of verbal skills at her workplace, an indication of her dienation frorn the job: "Even when she was working on a questionnaire, she {would catch) herself staring with sudden lack of comprehension at the words on the page" ( 18.25.13). Ironically, and despite

Marian's insistence on describing her relationship with Peter as a rational choice, rationality as represented by linguistic competence is no longer hlly accessible to her.

Processing rational thought becomes increasingly difficult.

The motif of Marian's fading linguistic competence directly prepares us for the final symbolic solution of the novel, the presentation of the cake, which gives the novel its title, The Edible Woman. The motif is further developed in the first two drafts in such passages as the visit to the museurn. Mile the loss of linguistic competence is maintained in some instances of the novel, Marian cm no longer rationalise this disadvantage. The motif recurs during Marian's visit to the museum with Duncan, a passage in which the early drafts allow Marian to rationalise her dificulty in responding to Peter's declaration of love. Atwood introduces Marian's rationalisation in a slightly shorter version in the first drafi (1 8.14.2), elaborates it in the second (1 8.28.12), but cuts this thought altogether in the sixth draft: "6

6{she had to exert herself) " (19.45.26).

Atwood's focus on language is not limited to developing Marian's character.

Duncan's verbal competence serves as a foi1 to Marian's symbolic actions, such as dreaming up the cake-woman strategy. However, this contrat is also transformed between initial cirafi and publication. Duncan's preoccupation with words as a pseudo- Harnlet is clear: in an explicit reference, he poses "as a confused Harnlet" (1 8.23.15). In the final scenes of the novel's drafts, Duncan's role of sympathetic listener and advisor is momentarily intermpted by his own self-conscious admission of inadequacy:

'Babble, babble,' he said, 'God. { [insert fiom 1Ov:] Why does everything . . resolve into monologue? Sometimes 1 feel

like a self-squeezing tooth-paste tube of words.) I talk a good show. I

wish 1 could put some of it into practice (1 8.18.1 O?).

Thus this motif of verbal cornpetence is much reduced in the tinal novel.

Atwood prepares the reader even more directly for Marian's choice of a way out of the trap. The first full drafi even specifies the protagonist's active choices designed to improve her situation. Her conscious strategy for tackling this dilemma already constitutes an accomplished first step. Her rational consciousness about previous mistakes-"to get tangled up like that again" (18.18.14)-is eliminated in favour of a focus on the choice of strategy now:

What she needed was something that

avoided words, she didn't want to get tangled up {in a

discussion.) . . . She started back towards the apartment, carrying her

paper bag.

& (19.48.25-26).

The excision of Marian's outright, self-conticlent statement-'90 know exactly what she is going to do"-leaves her strategy more tenuous and undetermined, only vaguely specified as non-verbal. The issue of non-verbal solutions is Merexplored in the second draft.

Originally, in a moment of enlightenrnent, a sudden solution to Marian's problems seems to have suggested itself, but she then promptly forgets it. At breakfast with Duncan, the previous night's sexual encounter seems to have had a cathartic effect. This lost epiphany was to have been a synthesis, not a resolution of her dilemma (1 8.32.1-2). She was aware of the solution's non-verbal character, the specification of which is cut in the last draft:

Finally last night it had al1 seemed cleared, resolved, the irrelevancies

absorbed into some wordless totality that was able to include them ail,

some white revelation; {Last night everything had seemed resolved, even

the imagined face of Peter with its hunting [sic] eyes absorbed into some

white revelation. It had been simple clarity rather than joy,} but it had

been submerged in sleep (1 9.48.1 1, my emphasis).

Marian's insight into her actions over breakfast with Duncan becomes elusive and vague.

In contrast to the second version, which is fim and definitive about its denial of a resolution, the final drafl revises the passage to offer only an ambiguous awareness of the protagonist's situation:40

Nothing was Whatever decision she had made accomplished, nothing was #i&hd had been forgotten, if indeed she had ever permanent or finished decided anyhng. It would have been an

(18.32.2). illusion, like the blue light on their skins

(19.48.12).

40 The published work has considerable additions, some ten lines, in this paragraph, EW 256f. The additions underline the urgency of Marian's having to deal with Peter. Marian's certainty that she has no solution is transposed into a far more general uncertainty .

Final Words How does Atwood shape the novel's symbolic resolution itself? The early drafts' interpretation of the cake's function is quite different: the second draft of the conclusion makes it appear as a simple and straightfonvard resolution to her problem. To Duncan's question "How did you do it?"-rneaning resolving the situation with Peter-she replies:

'I made a cake,' 1 said. 1 told him about it, and he listened with the

occasional flicker of interest.['] . . .

'It isn't the orthodox way,' he said when 13{had) finished, 'but

what the hell, if it works, as they say?{.) . . .

'~LWE~)CIncidentally,' 1 said, remembering, 'there's sorne left

over . . .' (18.32.21-22).

The emphasis is here still on a purely fûnctional level. The cake has helped to achieve a specific goal: the syrnbolic offering of her own body to Peter, a sacrifice which has been rejected and appears simply to end the relationship. The final version problematises Peter and Marian's relationship quite differently. Instead of granting Marian an easy way out of her dilemma, it introduces a new uncertainty. "Who is going to destroy whom?"e distribution of the roles of sacrifice and sacrificer dong gender likes are no longer taken for granted.

Atwood's tendency to introduce mare arnbiguity to the ending of her fust published novel continues with the revision of Duncan's last words. The choice of words affect the interpretation of the whole novel. The draft version implies a positive outlook for Marian's life, attesting to a new wholesomeness: "you are eating again" (19.48.39).

However, Atwood revises this simplistic optimism within the sarne, last draft into something far more ambiguous: "you're back to so-called reality, you're etwiRg {a consumer) again' (1 9.48.39). The early draft versions reduce the protagonist's dilemma to an eating disorder alone. They therefore testiS, to the drafts' unmitigatedly positive outcome as she overcomes those troubles. However, the revision provides a more arnbiguous statement, Marian's return to the noms of a consumer society.

Conclusion

Atwood's technique of revision works on two levels. While the reader may be deprived of direct explanation, this elimination of explicit references to a character's mental state emancipates us to constnict our own judgements and interpretations.

Avoiding the pitfall of didacticism-telling rather than demonstrating-this method requires the reader's active inv~lvement.~'Atwood thus reshapes the protagonist's character, fiom a personality with insights into her own dilemma to a personality largely prevented from gaining such insight. She suffers fiom the visceral rebellion of her body, but it is a rebellion shifted, by a technique of creating gaps, from the conscious to the unconscious.

The psychology of the text therefore provides a double shift fiom the explicit to the implicit, fiom the conscious to the unconscious. The protagonist and the reader are both forced to engage actively in the dilemma in order to bring it back to the level of

'' Iser describes the effect of a predominance of 'telling' as the shortcomings of a roman à -thèse (189). consciousness. While the protagonist has accomplished this feat by the novel's end, the reader is in the privileged position of distanced observer and therefore can constnict a bridge across the existing gaps. Chapter 4

The Genetic Dossier for Bodilv Harm

The writing of Atwood's fifth novel, Bodily Harm, can be docurnented in four stages of revision. The first stage, drafts MS.A, TS.B, TS.C and a set of fragments in box

33, folders 4 and 5, develop the novel's themes, but the narrative remains incornpiete: the story still Iacks an ending. The second stage of revision is completed by a fint full draft in TS.D. However, the narrative is still structured in only five sections. The third stage is reached with draft TS.E, which constitutes the first full-length draft stnictured in six sections; here the novel reaches a shape close to its final form. The fourth stage, TS.F through TS.L, comprises a whole series of minor changes, readjusting details to ready the manuscript for publication. In total, there are 10 extant drafts.

In contrast to Atwood's process of revision for The Edible Woman, the w-riting process for Bodily Harm is characterised by the gradua1 accretion of matenal. While the first draft, MS.A, consists of 184 folios of holograph material, the second ciraft, TS.B extends to 92 fols. of typed material covering the novel's sections I and II. In the third draft, TS.C, the novel grows to 171 fols, which includes sections 1through III. The fourth draft, TS.D, contains 484 fols. of holograph and typewritten material entailing a division of the novel hto five sections. This quantitative growth continues with the fifth ciraft, TS.E, which reaches a stage of near completion with a total of 456 fols. of mostly typewritten material.

The First Holograph Draft (MS.A)

Margaret Atwood's first draft of Bodilv Ham is written in holograph in a bound notebook (box 33, folder 1). The notebook contains 141 folios of ruled paper.

Throughout the notebook, extra sheets of paper were stapled into it.' At various places,

43 such sheets have been inserted, for a total of 184 sheets of paper in the notebook. The first three folios of the bound notebook have been carefully cut out close to the binding.

Folio four recto, the first retained folio, functions as a title page. It indicates the novel's first title, "The Robber Bridegroom," plus date and time at which the first draft was begun, "May 21, 1980, 10:22 p.m." (33.1.4). The verso of the title page contains notes for the writing of the first chapter.

The first holograph draft remains incomplete, breaking off after some episodes on the island of St. Agathe, just before the political unrest starts. In the last episode contained in the holograph draft, Rennie's ce11 mate, here called "Laura," relates her experiences as a srripper. There is no evidence for a conceptualisation of the novel's ending.

Staff at the Fisher Libraty removed the staples and replaced them with paper clips to hold these pages in place. For the breakdown of individual narrative episodes and their distribution in the holograph draft, see Appendix 10: "Bodil~Harm: Narrative Episodes in the Notebook, box 33, folder 1." For an overview of the sheets stapled into the Notebook, see second part of Appendix 10: "Bodily Hm: Overview of Sheets Stapled into the Notebook in Box 33, Folder 1." The Second Draft, a Typescrfpt (tS.8)

The second drafl, TS.B, is a typescript, which remains incomplete (box 33, folder

2-3). The draft includes material placed before the novel's text, paratextual elements, such as a title page "The Robber Bridegroom" in capital Ietters and the author's name in full (33.2.1) as well as various epigraphs (33.2.2 and 9) and some extraneous material, such as old poetry drafts re-used as scrap paper (33.2.8). The text proper covers the novel's section 1: 33.2.1-33.3.3, pp. 1-29 and section II: 33.3.4-33.3 S6, pp. 29A-66.

Altogether TS.B consists of 92 folios. This version is mostly presented in a typeface of

12 characters per inch (1 2 cpi) which significantly distinguishes it from the 10 cpi typeface used in many of the later versions, such as TS.D. However, many passages are added in holograph. Pages are often cut apart and passages are stapled together again.

Pagination is ofien expanded by adding letter qualifications to page numbers (such as

26A. 26B etc) in order to accommodate inserted pages.2 However, this typewritten draft does not include ail of the matenal aiready present in the first holograph drafi, MS.A.

Various Fragments

An intermediate stage covers various fragments (box 33, folders 4 and S), such as a collection of epigraphs (33.4.1-9 and 11 - 13), some of which are specifically designated for the begiming of each of the novel's section breaks (see Appendix 11,33.4.6-8). A title page among this miscellaneous material reads "The Rope Quartet" and includes again the author's full narne (33.4.10). A titie page for section 1 indicates the number of pages in this section as thirty (33.4.14).

* For a detailed description, see Appendix 11 : "Bodil~Hm: narrative episodes, box 33, folders 2-3 ." The fiagments contained here consist of passages rejected fiorn the next version,

TS.c. There are no traces of the novel's opening. In fact, the first fragments fiom the

novel's text begin with page four of the opening episode with the police in Remie's

apartrnent (33.4.15). Section 1 continues with pp. 6A-7A, 16- 19.26A. and various

unnumbered pages (33.4.16-35). For the holdings of section II and following, see

Appendix 1 1 (33.4.36-80). The last pages in folder 4 of these fragments lead the

narrative to the moment when Renie and Paul walk up to his house on the island of Ste.

Agathe (33.4.80). Some passages are typed in 12 cpi, attesting to an early stage of

typewritten material, but many passages are written in holograph on sheets tom out of a

mled spiral notebook.

The fragments in box 33, folder 5, contain bits and pieces of drafts for the later parts of the novel. Some pages are written in holograph but others are typed. Often the pages are cut up and stapled together again. Significant for the novel's progression are the first traces of the novel's ending in holograph: (33.5.7-10,33.5.15-20, and 33-5-91-

93) as well as metafictional references to storytelling and Lora's preference of happy endings (33 S.21 and 24). The majority of these episodes either deal with Rennie's childhood in Gnswold or with Lora and Rennie's imprisonrnent. Of particular interest for the discussion of the novel's ending in my next chapter are the following episodes' first traces: Rennie's plane taking off (33.5.7- 1 O), the grandmother's losing her hands

(33 S. 1 l), the guards' abuse of Lora (33.5.12-14)' Rennie's being taken to a room

(33 S. 15-20), and Lora's differentiating between real and imaginary stories (33 S.2 1-24). The Third Draft (1s.C)

The contents of box 33, folders 6 and 7. still contain an incomplete version. It

constitutes a clean copy-mostly photocopied-of the version in the next box, 34, folder

1, before Atwood completed and further revised that later version. Folder 6 contains the

following material: the title page on which "The Robber Bndegroom" is crossed out and

replaced with "Bodily Hm"(33.6.1), section 1 title page, and a page of epigraphs

(33.6.2-3). Folder 6 contains 86 folios with fiequently irregular pagination up to page 65.

Folder 7 contains 95 folios with the pagination 66 to 141, closing with an episode with

Rennie and Lora on Ste. Agathe. At a total of 171 folios, the incomplete draft divides

into the first three sections of the novel:)

Table 3: Outline of Material for TS.C 1 Section 1 box. folder. folio 1 oumber of folios 1 Atwood's pagination

III 1 33.7.13 - 33.7.95 1 83 1 76 - 141 Total 1 171

The Fourth Daff (TS.D)

This fourth ciraft in box 34, folders 1-16 constitutes the novel's first full draft in a

total of 396 folios. The core materials are the original typescripts, the photocopies of

which are contained in box 33, folders 6 and 7. Here, however, the original typescripts

have been Meredited. Additional material leading to the novels' first ending is

provided after the photocopies were made. The narrative is divided into only five

For details of TS .C, see Appendix 12. sections, as opposed to the final six-section version. Each section has a title-page bearing

a Roman n~meral:~

Table 4: Outline of Material for TS.D, by section

Section box. folder. folio Atwood's number of folios I 1 pagination 1 I I 34.1.1 -34.3.18 [i, ii] 1 - 48 74 11 34.4.1 - 34.7.1 1 49 - 127 97 III 34.7.12 - 34.13.10 128 - 257 142 IV 34.13.11-34.15.36 203A - 350 111

Total 1 484 1

The title page contains the typed title "Rope Quartet," which is crossed out and

replaced with "Bodily Hm"(34.1.1). The older layer of this draft survives in the

photocopy of the previous box and is typed in a 12 cpi typeface, whereas the revised

passages are typed in a larger 10 cpi typeface. TS.D also contains Atwood's occasional annotations for a typist, indicating that following versions probably were no longer typed by the author.' The following table indicates the nurnber of folios and the range of the pagination contained in each of the 16 folders of this version:

"or irregularities in the pagination and other details of TS.D, see Appendix 13. For example on 34.1.29. Table 5: Outline of Material for TS.D, by folder 1 box. folder 1 pagination 1 folios box .folder pagination folios 34.1 1 - 22 29 34.9 159 - 186 32 34.2 23 - 48 27 34.1 O 187 - 215 29 34.3 revisions for 18 34.1 1 216 - 250 27 individual pages 34.4 49 - 70 23 34.12 folder was empty on 16 August 1996 34.13 251 - 316 1 39

34.15 319 - 360 34.16 361 - 401 subtotal 269

The Fifth Draft (TSE)

The novel's fifth draft is contained in box 35, folders 1-5. For the first time, the

novel reaches its final structure, a division into six section^:^

Table 6: Outline of Material for TS.E, by section 1 Section 1 box. folder. folio 1 number of folios 1

I II. I 35.1.58-- - - 35.2.16 I 90 I - Y III. 35.2.17 - 35.3.1 8 1 35.3.2 35.3.71 N. , - 70 35.3.72 35.5.2 V. , - 97 VI. 35.5.3 - 35.5.63 6 1 Total 1 1 4561

The material is contained in five folders:

ci For details of TS.E, see Appendix 14. Table 7: Outline of Material for TS.E, by folder 1 nurnber of folios 1

The drafl TS.E is usually typed in a cnsp 10 characters-per-inch typeface, occasiondly interspersed with a duller kind of typeface as well as with holograph insertions. Some pages are still a composite of several strips from older layers stapled together.

The Sixth DraR (TSF)

TS.F, a photocopy contained in box 36, folders 1-4, is a back-up version for what is further revised in the next set of revisions, TS.G. and TS.H. box 36 folders 7-8. There are some revisions sprinkled throughout. The content of the novel in the six sections can be charted as follows:'

- ' For details of TS.F, see Appendix 15. Table 8: Outline of Material for TS.F, by section Section box . folder. folio Atwood's number of folios pagination 1. 36.1.1 - 36.1.49 1-47 49 II. 36.1.50 - 36.2.42 48- III 63 III. 36.2.43 - 36.3.17 112- 170 60 IV. 36.3.18 - 36.3.68 171 - 220 5 1 V. 36.3.69 - 36.4.54 221 - 288 69 VI. 1 36.4.55 - 36.4.98 1 1 44

According to the number of folders in which the draft is contained, the holdings

for TS.F includes:

Table 9: Outline of Material for TS.F, by folder 1 box. folder / pagination 1 number of folios /

36.2 68 - 153, 85 p. 85 missing 36.3 154 - 234 83 36.4 235 - 331 98 Total 1 336

The Seventh Draft (TS.G)

The seventh draft, TS.G, is a photocopy based on the original TS-H, preserving an earlier state of TS.H before it was further revised. TS.G has a few revisions sprinkled throughout. The division into the novel's subsections is as follo~s:~

For details of TS.G, see Appendix 16. Table 10: Outline of Materinl for TS.C, by section

Section box .folder. folio Atwood's number of r pagination folios

The draft's distribution among folders follows:

Table 11: Outline of Material for TS.G, by folder box . folder. folio pagination number of folios 36.5.1-164 1 - iii, 1 - 160 164 36.6.1 -1 83 161 - 331 183 I i Total 347

The Eight Draft (TS.H)

The eighth draft, TS.H, is kept in two light-blue binders, which keep the sheets in

place with a metal clamp. Both binders have white labels which read "BODILY HARM 1

Margaret Atwood / Sections 1, II, IU," and "Sections IV, V, VI," respectively. This draft

seems to be a working copy, revised together with the editor Dan Green from Simon and

Schuster, New York. His suggestions tend towards paring down what !ie sees as

redundancies or clarifjmg tenninology, such as bbcrimplene,"which he suggests to be

exchanged with "polyester knit" since the former is unknown in the States (37.1.6).

TS-H, box 36, folders 7 and 8, contains more holograph revisions than the previous draft,

TS.G, in box 36, folders 5 and 6. The first three folios in folder 7 contain a list for further revisions, among them a

note to change the protagonist's last narne From Wilson to "Wilkie," which is rejected,

and finally to "Wilford," the definitive version in the novel(36.7. I).~

Table 12: Outline of Material for TS.H, by section

Section box .folder. folio Atwood's number of pagination folios 1. 36.7.4 - 36.7.54 [i-iv] 1 - 47 54 66 II. I 36.7.55 - 36.7.120 48-111 III. 1 36.7.121 -36.7.184 112 - 170 1 64 1

VI. 36.8.119 - 36.8.166 289 - 332 48 Total 350

Other Relevant Material

Box 37, folder 1 contains Atwood's correspondence with Dan Green, editor at

Simon and Schuster, New York. There is no correspondence extant with Atwood's

Canadian publisher McClelland and Stewart. The first letter from Green to Atwood in

Alliston, Ontario, is dated 4 May 198 1 and includes a list of suggested revisions (37.1.1 -

3.'' Atwood responded to Green's letter on 28 May 198 1 fiom Toronto. In this letter, she responds with her own list of suggested revisions (37.1.3), followed by more lists

For details of TS.H, see Appendix 17. 'O It is not quite clear to which drafl Dan Green refers for suggested revisions. Green suggests cutting the sentence "if 1 was going to live" at the end of the novel's third paragraph, a revision which Atwood first executes in holograph form in TS.D and takes over into a clean version in TS.E. This would suggest that Green read draft TS-D. However, in the same list, Green suggests for p. 29 to take out two sentences fiom "Jake was a fine young man" to "a good dancer who hardly ever bothered to dance." The pagination cannot refer to TS.D or TS.E because neither dr& has this incident occur on p. 29. Only with TS.F does the pagination concur with that referred to in Green. (37.1.4-8). Two lists of suggested revision are identified as coming fiom a "West Indian

expert" and from a "lady journalist" (37.1.9). Further revisions are suggested on folios

10- 16. The Iater part of this folder contains fragments from the novel paginated 95, 1 6

insert, 85 with many holograph revisions, 329, no pagination ,234-2, 134,33 1, the last

page of the novel with many holograph revisions. These pages are found in 37.1.17-24.

The holograph comments from the West Indies expert are dated 2 1 April 198 1

and contained on folios 27 through 56. The expert statement's closing sentences suggest

a haunting real life dimension of the novel's events: "1 enjoyed the work irnmensely.

You've done us a great service in the Caribbean. The people of Union Island did not

suffer in vain; nor my agony, the night of the election when they tned to get me"

(37.1S6). The signature of this reader, merely an initial, is illegible.'' Among the drafts to Cat's Eye, a page lists Atwood's trips to St. Vincent between 1973 and 1987 (99.8. l)."

For the sake of complete description 1 wiil include the last sets of drafts. While these drafts play a role in readying the manuscript for publication, the changes themselves are rninutiae, such as the consistent Arnericanisation of the spelling. TS.1 in box 38 and a back-up photocopy, ~s.1~are contained in 13 folders, labelled "Final TS." Another copy

"Final typescript for Simon Schuster edition" is found in box 39, folders 1-5, TS.K. The

1st three folders in box 39, folders 6-9, contain the page proofs for the Simon and

Schuster edition, TS.L.

As descnbed, the manuscript material reveals four distinct stages of revision.

Atwood brings her novel to its fmai form through a series of cumulative changes.

1 I Union Island is a part of the Grenadines, attached to St. Vincent. l2 My thanks to Emmanuelle Brunet, who alerted me to this list. Starting with the delineation of the novel's major themes in MS.A through TS.C and various fragments, the first stage of the writing process is accomplished. The second stage of writing, TS.D, results in a full first draft, but the novel's structure is still unsettled. The third stage, reached in TS.E, reaches a draft version containing al1 of the novel's major components, including its structure of division into six sections. The fourth stage of revision, TS.F through TS-L, reveals Atwood's diligence in indefatigably applying herself to the lengthy process of fine-tuning to create her novel's effect. This process of revisions represents a different creative technique than employed in The Edible

Woman. C hapter 5

Weaving a Web: The Genetic Analysis of Bodilv Harm

In contrast to the previous anaiysis of The Edible Woman, which showed

Atwood's technique of eliminating material fiom her text, the following anaiysis of

Bodilv Hmdemonstrates an opposite technique. The writing of Bodilv Hmis determined by the effect of cumulative additions, weaving in new material as drafts accumulate. While The Edible Woman was written in a full length holograph draft after only a few fiagrnentary sketches, Bodil~Harm required one lengthy holograph draft

(MS.A) and two typed versions (TS.B and TS.C) before reaching the narrative's ending for the first time in TS.D. Throughout the revisions, this cumulative effect provides increasingly detailed description as well as providing additional passages about the protagonist's background. While the writing of The Edible Woman produces deliberate hermeneutic gaps, the revision of Bodilv Ham weaves a dense narrative web, ever entwining recwing narrative motives, achieving a more poetic effect.

This analysis of Bodilv Ham has three parts. The first part deais with the novel's beginning, Atwood's choice of titles for various draft versions, and her gradua1 development of the novel's opening episode with a particular focus on integrating the novel's main motifs. nie second part provides a structural analysis of the narrative's episodic continuation and the evolving, intricate patterns of the main plot interspersed with flashback episodes and their mutually balanced relationship. The third section

analyses the development of the novel's ending. Of particula. interest in this section is

the status-factual or imaginary?-of the episodes dealing with Rennie's rescue.

Part I: The Novel's Beginning

The Choice of Title The first impact of a novel on readers is made by the choice of title. Anvood tried

out two variants before the final title, Bodilv Harrn emerged. Rather than providing evidence for a different concept underlying the novel as a whole, each of the variant titles

highlights different aspects of the narrative. Over time, the choice of title moves from

highlighting specific aspects of this work to gaining more comprehensive connotations.

Atwood experiments with two titles before settling on Bodily Hm.The first.

The Robber Bridegroom, is created for the first draft, MS.A, and maintained in the second, TS.B. This title implies intertextuality on at least three levels. It refers to a

Grimm's fairy tale by the same title ("Der ~auberbrauti~arn"),'confirming the impact she acknowledges the Grimm's tales had on her.' Secondly, it refers to a poem of the sarne title in Atwood's collection Interlunar (1984, 62) and, fïnally, Atwood retums to the allusion in her 1993 novel Tlie Robber Bride.

The most important link between the fairy tale and Atwood's Bodily Ham is a common theme: the victimisation of women by men. In Grimm's fais, tale, the miller's

' For an edition in Engiish, see Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm ("The Robberbridegroom," 200-204). For a scholarly German-language edition, see Grimm ("Der Rauberbrautigam," 1: 184-7. 2 See JO Brans (309); or Bonnie Lyons (75); and Jan Garden Castro (21 5). daughter discovers fiom her hiding place how her betrothed murders, dismembers, and eats another young wornan3 The physical violence of the fairy tale is paralleled in the novel in the brutal abuse of Lora, witnessed by the imprisoned Rennie. In the fairy tale, the miller's daughter gains agency for action only at the very end. She subverts her betrothed's authority by telling her tale, a form of agency which Atwood's protagonist

Rennie may or may not be prepared to imitate at the end of the novel. In the second drafi,

TS.B, this final act of subversion is highlighted through Atwood's use of a quotation from the fairy tale's ending as the novel's epigraph: "Then said the bndegroom to the bride:

'Corne, my darling, do you know nothing? Relate something to us like the rest.' She replied: 'Then 1 will relate a dream"' (33.2.2). The miller's daughter of the fairy tale insists three times that she is merely relating a dream, but by pulling out the dismembered woman's finger she proves her fiction to be reality. In the fairy-tale, the witness's fiction leads to the overthrow of violent power structures. In both texts the protagonists play the role of passive observer, but the telling of the tale and the final overthrow of evil are much less certain in the novel.'

In place of the miller's daughter, some variants of the fairy-tale have a princess as protagonist, who witnesses the robbers' murder of her own grandmother. See Rolleke 928 or Bolte and Polivka 1 370-375. ' For the self-conscious relationship between fiction and "real world" in Atwood's choice of the Grimm's epigraph, "telling tales may be a way of saving lives," see Patton 165. However, Atwood's novel is based on political reality more than critics have acknowledged. See the series of articles in The Times: "Secessionist Revolt Erupts on Caribbean Island" and "Rastafarian Band Held After Caribbean Revolt" on 8 and 10 December, 1979: "[Michael Leapman vnites] several dozen rebels seized control [on December 71 of Union Island in the Caribbean in an apparent attempt to secede fiom the newly independent state of St. Vincent. They made an anned attack on a police station, forcing the police to flee in a boaty'(1); and "The police earlier rounded up about 20 rebels, including about six Young girls, on Union Island, southernmost island of the Grenadines archipelago. They are being held without charges on the main island of St. In contrast with the fairy tale, the novel's protagonist Rennie is both observer & victim. Mile Renie faces the threat of physical violence fiom her surroundings at home

(through an intmder in her apartment) and in the Caribbean (through imprisonrnent by a dictatorial regime), the psychological impact of these events is crucial for Rennie's changing attitudes. At the same time, her body is attacked from within through illness and from without throujgh Daniel's mastectomy, a form of dismemberment recalling that in Grimm's tale. The miller's daughter is rescued and the robber bndegroom punished through the intervention of a benevolent old wornm5 No such feminine agency for justice exists in the novel. Exposed to the cruelty of a dictatorial Caribbean regime,

Rennie's final escape remains ambiguous and could be simply a dream episode.

Atwood's poem "The Robber Bridegroom" also deals with male violence and female victimisation. Here it is a rapist and murderer whose voice describes perverse pleasure in the crime. The poem's maniac and his mad desires have parallels in the novel: both the novel's coi1 of rope lefi behind by a burglar and the violent videos which

Rennie watches for her piece on pomography are symbols of male vio~ence.~

Vincent under emergency regulations. Some of the Rastafarians, handcuffed or tied together with rope, complained that St. Vincent policemen cut off their long 'dreadlocks' . . . with bayonets" (4, my emphasis). St. Vincent and the Grenadines acquired full independence on 27 October 1979 (Statesman's Year-Book 1996, 1 106). According to her list of trips arnong the Atwood papers, Atwood visited St. Vincent at least 5 times between 1973 and Dec 1981 (99.8.1). In the novel, the fajr tale's old woman is displaced ont0 Rennie's memones of her matemal grandrnother . For an exploration of the important, recurring motif of sexual violence and rape fiom a female perspective, see "Rape Fantasies" in Atwood's collection of short stories Dancing -Girls (99- 110). While the title of the 1993 novel, The Robber Bride, evokes a complex pattern of resonances in the novel, its chief significance may be Atwood's gender reversal. uistead of referring to the archetype of male violence, the novel focuses on the elusive Zenia as kmale villain. Atwood subverts the notion that her writing exclusively depicts variations on the archetype of female victim suffering under male aggressor, since now the aggressor is female and the victims both female and male.

In its original form as a drafl title for Bodilv Hm,"The Robber Bridegroom" stresses male violence against women. In contrast, the actual focus of the novel-the workings of the female psyche in distress-is not reflected in this title. Moreover, another important element of the work is not reflected in the first title. In the fairy tale, life-threatening violence derives fiom an exclusively extenor source. However. Remie is not only threatened by violence fiom the outside but by cancer fiom within.

Perhaps for this reason, on the title page of the third draft, "The Robber

Bridegroom" was crossed out and replaced by "Bodily ~arm."' Before the latter title was pemanently adopted, Atwood experimented in a fiagrnent (title-page 33.4.10) and in her fourth draft, TS.D (title-page 34.1.1 ), with the title "Rope ~uartet."~Besides being a reference to the intruder in the novel's beginning, the rope becomes an instrument for lirniting and strangling female fieedorn on a symbolic level. Dorothy Jones explains the symbol of the rope in Atwood's design for the title page to the 197 1 poetry collection,

Power Politics. The title page depicts:

' An additional factor may be Eudora Welty's use of The Robber Bridegroom as a title for her 1942 novella. Howells refers to this drafi title, "The Rope Quartet" and briefly draws out its significance for the novel (Howells, Mar~aretAtwood, 109- 1 10). a man totally encased in amour, his visor obscuring his face, with his right

ami extended, and hanging from it, with her left ankle bound by rope to

his wrist, is a woman in the pose of the hanged man in the Tarot cards, her

body swaîhed in bandages one of which has worked lose [sic] to mingle

with her hair trailing on the ground (95).

In the novel, Jones sees a similar phenornenon in Jocasta's self-designed 'slave-girl effect,' for which Jocasta drapes herself in self-made, 'drain-chah jewellery.' In both cases, women are bound and subjected to male domination. In both instances the male dominance is exerted by a faceless and nameless male force. Other instances of women in bondage in the novel can be found in Jake's sex garnes with their menacing edge as well as in the photograph which Jake chooses as decoration for the apartment: "In the bedroom, Jake had a Heather Cooper pes~{picture), a brown-skimed woman wound up in a piece of matenal pmws4-k which held her arms to her sides but left her breasts eyiwwhd and thighs and buttocks exposed" (33.5.81). The rope does, indeed, constihite an important, recurring motif in the novel. However, as a symbol of captivity, it also alludes to the novel's ending with Rennie and Lora in prison.

The second part of that early title, "Quartet," has several possible interpretations.

Four men influence the protagonist's fate: the unknown intmder with the rope, her ex- lover Jake, her surgeon Daniel, and her island lover, Paul. Their narnes are even listed together. The passage refers to the men as interconnected and expresses Rennie's emotional investrnent through its breathless anxiety:

[The man with the rope] is the oniy man who is with her now, he's

followed her, he was here al1 dong, he was waiting for her. Sometirnes she thinks it's Jake, climbing in the window with a stocking over his face,

for hin, as he once did; sometimes she thinks it's Daniel, that's why he has

a knife. But it's not either of hem, it's not Paul, it's not anyone she's ever

seen before (BH. 287).

The anonymity of the man with the rope allows the reader to project any of the other three names-Jake, Daniel, or Paul-onto his identity, thus playing out the image of the armoured knight whose visor prevents identification, which Atwood chose for the cover of Power ~olitics.~This draft does identiQ the anonymous hangrnan, the faceless stranger, as the Englishwoman who owns the Sunset Inn and who delivers Remie into the hands of the police (TS.D, 34.1 5.36). However, at another time but in the same drafi

Remie anributes the identity of the faceless strmger to the soldier abusing prisoners in the court yard-"she's seen the man with the rope" (34.16.19). The final draft knows no such certainty in its attribution of identities.

On the title-page of the fourth clraft, TS.D, the definitive title "Bodily Hm" finally replaces "Rope Quartet." This title seems more adequate since its ambiguity suggests the protagonist's suffenng as inflicted from outside as well as from within.

Through key words, such as "cel1"-signifjhg both the prison ce11 in which she is violated as well as the cancer cells which invade her body-the parallel nature of her

For Atwood's long standing interest in Tarot, see Atwood papers, letter fiom Gwendolyn MacEwen, postmarked 15 Feb 1967, in which MacEwen responds to Atwood's query about the meaning of specific cards. MacEwen says she consulted her "Paul Christian magic book" (1 A8.l). For the Tarot card and the Hanged Man's significance as anticipating triais, sacrifice, reversai of values, new beginnings, but also egotism, and unwillingness to accept change, see Tegtmeier 58. suffering is reinforced. Through Atwood's final choice of title, the persona1 suffering becomes more closely linked to the novel's social and political theme.

It is a commonplace that al1 beginnings pose a particular difficulty for a writer.

This view is borne out in Atwood's revision of the novel's first sentence, where the author must engage the reader. Not surprisingly, Atwood subjects Bodil~Harm's first sentence to a series of revisions. Four different versions of the novel's first sentence cm be distinguished. Particularly significant are the narratological differences, which concem the narrative's point of view and the choice of grammatical tense, revisions which ultimately afirm the opening sentence as a frarning device for the whole novel.

The opening sentence's first documented version reads: "This is why 1 left"

(33.1.5). ln this first version of the novel's opening, the narrative constitutes an anonymous first-person narration as the pronoun "1" is not specified with a particular referent or narne. The semantics of this first sentence one-dimensionally focus on

Rennie's expenences which lead to her flight fiom home, without acknowledging the importance of the consecutive events. The events in the Caribbean would thus appear to be of secondary importance

In the sarne first manuscript, MS.A, Atwood revises the novel's first sentence through an insertion above the first Iine of text which reads: "This is how 1 got here"

(33.1 3. Four drafts later, in TS.E (35.1.1 ), this sentence becomes the opening used in the published novel. The unspecified "here" raises a question regarding the actual place.

This existentid uncertainty resonates with such concems in Atwood's writing elsewhere.

In Swival, Atwood identifies this uncertainty about one's own position as typical for

Canadian literature in general. In this context, Atwood explains this "'Where is here?' dilemma" as a condition affecting a writer who "feels himself living in a place whose shape is unclear to him, [in] a 'world but scarcely uttered,' to quote A.M. Klein's

'Portrait of the Poet as Landscape"' (1 14). While attributed to the reality of Canadian authors, this statement also holds tme for the novei's protagonist Remie, who is likewise a writer. Indeed, to define the speaker's status quo poses considerable difficulty, for the character as well as for the reader.

Critics fiequently see the novel's opening sentence as part of a narrative Frame which envelopes the whole novel, so that this frame closes with Remie's impnsonment on the Caribbean island.1° The adverbial of place, "here," is read either in a purely literal sense-'"Here' is a stinking, underground, rat-infested jail cell" (De Papp Canington

52-r, in a wider sense, as the point of reference to Rennie's growth in mind and spirit:

"a point of resolution and acceptance in her life" (Flower 288). A third, perhaps even more inclusive interpretation acknowledges the potential of multiplicity: "'Here' carries many layers of allusion in Bodil~Harm: emotional, political, intellectual geographical" (R. Smith 263, n. 5 ). According to this interpretation, the opening sentence signals that the novel is to be read as a Bildungsroman. This ultimate choice for an opening sentence thus displays the most complex spectnim of signification.

In a later phase of revision of MS.A-identifiable by the use of blue pen, in contrast to the previous wnting in black-Atwood adds the speech tag "(said Rennie):"

'O Dr& TS.D explicitly reveals the existence of such a Me. That clraft's closing section links Rennie's and Lora's prison conversation with the opening episode. The closing section opens by repeating Rennie's confiontational conversation with the police, "'1 close the curtains,' 1 said. '1 don? have men over. 1 turn out the lights," which is then identified as an oral account framed by Lora as a listener, "'Then what did they do,' says Lora'' (34.1 5.38). (33.1.5). The introduction of the speech particle changes the novel's point of view fiom a

pure first-person narrative to a third-person narrative. The anonymity of the protagonist

is removed through the introduction of a first name. In this first version, the speech tag is

placed in parentheses and followed by a colon, which diminishes the role of the speaker and also opens up the narrative, thus throwing the focus on the protagonist's literal and metaphorical jomey. Both forms of punctuation disappear in the final version.

The opening sentence's third version- "This was the begiming of it9'-can also be found in the first holograph, MS-A, written over the previously described, crossed out version. This version appears to be the least successful opening sentence; opening a narrative with the assertion to begin at the begiming can appear rather banal. In any case, this version never reappears again in the drafts, in contrast to the previously discussed opening sentences each of which is considered and rejected several times.

The fourth version, finally, is tested in the fourth draft: "This was the second thing" (34.1.3). This version of the opening sentence must necessarily appear cryptic to the reader, presenting a twofold task. On the one hand, the reader has to identiQ the narrative element to which "the second thing" refers. On the other, the reader will have to anticipate the implied question "what is the first thing?". Altogether this version places high expectations on the reader's ability to retain at first reading information which is at least initially meaningless.

During the course of the novel's fourth draft, TS.D, Rennie's moments of suffering continue to be explicitly numbered. Included in this list is her cancer operation-'The operation was the fmt thing, says Rennie" (34.1.1 %)-and her witnessing the prison guards' abuse of Lora-"This is the third thing fuially, it's happened but not to lier. Yes it has" (34.16.37).'' It is questionable whether the reader would recollect such structural components. After dl, they are separated by several hundred pages. Atwood eventually decides against them. Counting these occurrences in a pack of three-akin to narrative elements in fairy tales-puts a mythologising spin on the narrative. Except in this work the number three has a much darker meaning: it counts misfortunes and is even associated with rural superstition. "In Griswold everything cornes in threes. . . . She's waiting for the third thing" (33.4.22). The schematising of the novel's events acts against the novel's realism, but the number three also stands in contrast to this version's title "Rope Quartet," with its implication of a unit of four. "

Al1 four versions of the opening sentence share the use of unspecified pronouns and adverbs, each of which raise the reader's anticipation as to their referents, information which can only be obtained through further reading. The final version, "This is how 1 got here," codïzms the sense of Remje's movement, a force which leads towards Mercharacter development.

The First Episode9s''Setting" Atwood subjects the first episode's setting to significant revision. The importance which she attributes to a narrative's setting can be inferred fiom her remarks on the visual component in creative fiction as opposed to poetry: "A poem is something you heu, and

* ' Kirtz, analyses the significance of the number three in the final novel. She also sees the necessity for a positive "tkd thing" as an alternative to the decay of values in politics and religion. l2 Counting Rennie's misfornuies in a series of three is copied as a motif into TS.E (35.1.4; 35.1 .14; and 3 5.5 -58) where al1 references to three are then eliminated by revision. the primary focus of interest is words. A novel is something you sec. and the primary focus of interest is people" (Sandler 19; rny emphasis).

nie original version of the opening passage was set in spring:

It was May so it was still very light; the cherry trees along the street were

in bloom + the dark pink petals were failing ont0 the sidewalk. . . . a few

neighbours, Chinese, were out tidying the front lawns where they would

later plant things 1 hadn't learned the names for (33.1 S).

In the reader's imagination, a colourful scene of fieshly awakened vegetation is evoked, but this spring setting is cut in the same manuscript and replaced by autumn: "1 got back to my apartinent that day around six, as usual. It was May October so it was still veiy light; the trees along the street had flamed + the yellow and brown leaves were falling onto the sidewalk (33.1 .5)".13 The protagonist rernains a passive observer and, in contrast to her neighbour, the world of plants and vegetation seems foreign to her: "Next swffffiet. spnng, they would plant things 1 hadn't learned the names for. 1 thought it was about . . time 1 learned the narnes. ~' (33.1.5). Full of enthusiasm and a spirit of motivation, the last sentence of this quotation is eventually cut again, eliminating the suggestion of an optirnistic and energetic protagonist fiom the novel's beginning.

The close link of the neighbour to growth and vegetation remains constant in the later versions. The contrast between his fniitfulness and Rennie's barremess is Mer explored in the second draft, TS.B, through syrnbolic means. The description of the neighbour's sprouting garden is contrasted with the space in front of Rennie's house:

" Passages printed in the strike-out mode correspond to passages crossed out in the author's holograph. "The one in fiont of my house had been covered over with paving

Stones so you could park a car on it" (33.2.3). Vegetation is suppressed. natural growth

impossible.

The fa11 setting is Merdeveloped in the second drafl through additions to the

description of the neighbour: "He'd pulled up the dead plants and was raking the earth

into a raised oblong, four by six; -' (33.2.3).

References to the grave mound were cut as too obvious a parallel between the fa11 setting,

the dying vegetation, and human death. Instead, Atwood simply implies a parailel and

leaves it to the reader to infer such interpretation, the technique which is so significant for

The Edible Woman.

The setting of the opening passage is carefùlly sculpted, suggesting the craft of a

stage designer. In her "Thematic Guide to Canadian Literature," Survival, Atwood

herself describes the connection between concepts of the exterior and the interior:

"landscapes in poems are often interior landscapes; they are maps of a state of mind . . . .

The same tendencies can be present in the descriptive passages of novels or stories with

natural settings" (49). Survival also specifies a close link between man and nature as standing in close relation to the body and sexuality: "attitudes towards Nature inevitably

involve man's attitude towards his own body and towards sexuality" (63). Remodelling the setting for the novel's opening passage implicitly characterises the protagonist as suffering psychological, physical, and sexual hardship. l4

14 Compare Pfister's notion of the "semanticisation of space" ["Semantisierung des Raumes"] which he uses in the context of drama (339ff.). The Protagonist's Quandary Besides prepanng the appropriate setting, a main function of the novel's opening

passage is to provide an introduction to the protagonist's quandary. Rennie's quandary-

which triggers her flight to the Caribbean-is threefold. It consists of her illness, her

separation fiom her lover Jake, and her personal isolation. Through a series of revisions,

these three motives for escape are gradually, relentlessly woven into the narrative's

opening passage.

The only reference to the protagonist's cancer and mastectomy in the first draft,

MS.A, is an insertion in the margin over the first paragraph: 'Tm still alive, that's

something" (33.1 S). In the first four pages of the first drafi, the only other reference to

the protagonist's illness is found in a note on the back of the title page that reads: "she

discovers the next day that she has cancer." This note is not integrated into the first

draft 's text.

In the second draft, TS.B, this circurnstance is incorporated more fully, as two of

the novel's conflicts are worked into the text: illness and the broken relationship. This

change is achieved by transforming in the first draft the simple "1 got back ... as usual"

into the protagonist's retum fiom shopping: ''1 walked back to my apartment that day around five. I'd been over at the Market and then down Spkea to the Chinese supermarket, and 1 was carrying the shopping basket as well as my purse" (33.2.3). This insertion of a shopping trip allows her to move on to mention nonchalantly the broken relationship with Jake as an allusion to her cancer operation, although the precise nature of her physical ills remains veiled: "There wasn't as much to carry now that Jake and 1 were no longer living together, which was just as well because the muscles in my right shoulder were pdhgaching, I hadn't been keeping up the exercises" (33.2.3). Refemng to the shopping trip with its local colour-"[to] the Market and then down Spdma to the

Chinese supermarket" (TS.B. 33.2.3)-allows the initially unmotivated inclusion-"a few neighbours, Chinese" (MS.A, 33.1.5)-to appear much more reasonable.

The second draft, TS.B, reduces the plural to one specific Chinese neighbour as an implicit description of Rennie's isolation: "My next door neighbour, an old Chinese man whose narne 1 didn't know and who never spoke to me or looked at me" (33.2.3). This insertion in the second drafl now reflects Remie's relation to another neighbour: "The downstain neighbour, an older woman I'd never spoken to" (33.1.5). The sense of her isolation is doubled.

Remie's relationship to Jake is of central importance to her emotional state. In

Atwood's first version, MS.A, the name "Jake" does not occur at al1 in the opening passage' except as a note in one of the rnargins: "have Jake still living with her" and "she leaves because of JakefDaniel" (33.1.4~).Only in the second draft does Rennie's assert

"There wasn't as much to carry now that Jake and 1 were no longer living together"

(33.2.3)' introducing the allusion to the broken relationship into the opening paragraphs.

Again, it is attached to the shopping trip reference. In the fourth version, Rennie's personal state is noted more fully in the second sentence, whch succinctly reads: "It was the day after Jake leW (34.1.3).

nie characterisation of Jake in the opening passage is revised severd times to reinforce his negative image in the protagonist's consciousness. This progression can be demonstrated by comparing drafts. The first drafi initially contains no reference to Jake: The downstairs neighbour . . . had cats and she liked to leave the door ajar

so they could get in + get thru the cat door. "Cathole", someone had called

it, that oblong with the rubber flap, which seemed to me, when 1 first heard

it, slightly obscene (33.1.5).

In the second draft, this passage becomes enlarged and the somewhat licentious connotation is attributed to Jake. In the fourth draft, TS.E, the whole passage is transposed into the present. By playing with verb tenses, the writer allows yet another allusion to the former relationship: "'Cat hole', Jake calls it; used to cal1 it" (35.1.5).

The setting of Remie's living room is also used as a merreference to her ex- lover. In the first drafi, the protagonist just walks through the living room without any comment. In the second clraft, the living room is "still piled with boxes of books Jake had packed but not collected" (33.2.4). Another insertion associates Jake with the use of dnigs. Surprised by the police's presence in her apartment, Rennie surmises, "they were after the pot" (33.2.4). This thought is extended in Atwood's holograph addition: "Then

1 remembered that Jake had taken the whole stash with him. Why not? It was his"

(33.2.4). Rennie thus becomes disassociated fiom the use of illegal dnigs, while the legal implications reflect on Jake.

Three of the novel's main motives-the protagonist's illness, her broken relationship, and her isolation-are thus gradually woven into the narrative fabric. As in weaving, the revisions give the main motives a more marked colour yet harmoniously blend them into the surroundings.

The police presence in Rennie's apartment also undergoes a similar process of revision fiom a discourse of unmitigated surprise to subtle anticipation and foreshadowing. In the first draft, which initially withholds information and then springs it on the readers, the sequential description resembles that of a film technique. At first, only the voices are audible. As Rennie cornes up the steps to her apartrnent, we hem voices fiom 'off screen' "there were people inside, men, 1 could hear them talking, and then a laugh" (33.1 S). Only then does the visual effect follow. The camera moves vertically up,

''1 could see their feet, then the legs," fiom the detail zooming to the total scene: "three policemen were sitting at my kitchen table" (33.1.6). Through a lengthy withholding of information as to the identity of the men in her apartnent Atwood produces a crime thriller- like suspense in the reader, which is then dissolved without the reader being prepared for the solution.

This form of suspense is refined into a subtly anticipated police presence. In the second draft, TS.B, a revision foreshadows the police's presence right after the first paragraph: "1 did notice the cruiser, which had been left beside a meter like any other car, no flashing lights, but it was a few doors away so 1 didn't pay much attention to it. You see more police cars down there than you might Mernorth" (33.2.3). The passage also includes pointers which indicate the temporal distance of the speaker to the events described. The narrator7s"1 didn't pay much attention" indicates the distance of the later, reflecting self fiom the earlier, experiencing self. lS

The unprofessional police behaviour, which necessarily becomes associated with the intruder, is modified into a more sympathetic treatment. in MS.A, the actions of the police are most closely associated with those of the intruder. Even before Rennie, or the

l5 The difference between "narrating 1" ["erzahlendes Ich"] vs. "expenencing I" r'erlebendes Ich"] is descnbed in narratologicd terms by Franz K. Stanzel 1 lof. reader, know who is in her apartment their presence evokes surprise-"who'd let them in?'-and concem-"1 was &aid to go in" (33.1 S). The fnst version's worry about the intrusion is strengthened in TS.B through the added physical evidence of aggression:

"The key was under the mat where I always left it, but the edge of the door frame was splintered, they'd shoved the lock right out of it." (33.2.4). Ironically this destruction in the second draft is said to be caused by the police, whereas the intruder climbed through an open kitchen window.

Another instance of unprofessional behaviour equating the police with the intruder in TS.B is the police officer's helping themselves to something to dnnk in Remie's apartment: "[the police officers] had made themselves cups of instant coffee" (33.1.6~).

This unacceptable behaviour inevitably evokes a cornparison with the intruder who had

"made himself a cup of Ovaitine" (33.1.6~).in the next version, TS.D, the police transgression is made even greater by changing the choice of drink: "they'd helped themselves to beer fiom the 'fiidge" (33.2.4). Even adding the police excuse renders this second version the rnost offensive: "1 hope you don't mind us having a beer, we didn't know when you'd be back" (33.2.5). Only in TS.E is the parallel between the police and the intmder removed, focusing Rennie's feelings of alienation fiom her own apartment exclusively on the transgression of the man with the rope: "1 felt sick: someone 1 didn't know had been in my kitchen, opening my refkigerator and my cupboard, humming to himself maybe, as if he lived there; as if he were an intimate" (33.2.7).

In the fust draft, the labelling of the police as occupier of Rennie's space evokes her outright revulsion: "1 didn't want to sit at the table with them. It didn't seem like my table any more, it seemed like theirs, + they hadn't invited me" (33.1.6). In the second draft, the passage expressing antipathy against the police is dropped and the focus of the violation of personai space is on the transgression of the man with the rope and only secondarily on that of the police. Instead, the police's lack of sensitivity is transferred ont0 their exploiting of Rennie's anxiety about the reason for their presence in her apartment .

However, A~roodplans the patronising behaviour of the officers from the beginning, especially in the way they explain their presence in Rennie's apartment:

"'Come on,' the fat one said. He sounded pleased with himself, knowing, like an adult about to deliver the punch line in a cautionary tale for children" (33.1.6). The officers' condescending manner extends to the next draft, TS.B, and the "cautionary tale" becomes more specific: "'Corne on,' he said, pleased with himself, in charge. He had a present he'd been saving up. . . . He smiled at me, watching my face, almost delighted, like an adult who's just said 1 told you so to some rash child with a ski~edknee" (33.2.5-6).

Imitating the behaviour of the intnider in helping themselves to Rennie's drinks is now replaced with an infantilisation of the victim Rennie.

Rennie's Reaction to the Police Presence The first two drafts exploit the aggression underlying the power relationship between Remie and the police. The insistent questions about the protagonist's life-style become more probing. In the first draft, MS.A, the officers comment: "You live alone, that's nght? . . . You close your curtains when you get undressed at night?" (33.1.7). In the second draft, these innuendoes become more explicitly sexuai: "You have men over here a lot?'(33.2.6). In the early drafts, the officers' provocation triggers Rennie's vehement reaction, the most extreme version of which is found in the first draft:

1 unbuttoned my blouse and slqpd pulled my arm out of the right sleeve,

and dropped the slip strap over my shoulder . . . 1 took out the fake breast . . and tossed it in the air + caught it with the hand like

a #kmrubber ball. Then 1 slipped the cup of the brassiere down and

showed them the scar where the real breast used to be (33.1.8).

In the second draft, Atwood eliminates Rennie's flippant but aimless manipulation of the breast prosthesis-her tossing it in the air like a rubber ball-instead she addresses the officers even more confiontationally: "'Here', 1 said. 'Take it home with you, it's detachable. The latest thing" (33.2.7). The extremity of liemie's outburst becomes modified in TS.D. The directness of the previous versions become more subtle:

"suddeniy 1 was angry. 1 unbuttoned my blouse and pulled my left arm out of the sleeve and dropped the slip strap over my shoulder" (34.1.12). Remie's action is now explained as motivated out of affect and impulse-"suddenly 1 was angry"-and the actual scene that the oficers witness has to be supported by the reader's imagination rather than being show in al1 its literalness.16

The novel's beginning undergoes a most careful revision: fiom the selection of a title, which produces a multi-layered, comprehensive connotation, to the choice of setting as an appropriate reflection of Rennie's imer state of mind, to a weaving in of the major

l6 In the closing section of the fourth clraft, TS.D, in which the novel remsto Rennie's narration of the police in her apartment, the police cfficers' behaviour is underlined by Lora' s reaction: "' Pigs,' Lora said" (34.1 5.3 8). motifs of Rennie's quandary-illness, broken relationship, and persona1 isolation, to

modifying the police presence-disassociating them from the intnider and the potential of

sexual aggression, to expressing a more subtle type of male agression, sexist

condescension-to finally re-adjusting Rennie's reaction to the police officers' behaviour.

in al1 these aspects, Atwood significantly reshapes her novel's opening.

Part 2: The Novel's Episodic Structure

Atwood divides Bodil~Ham into six sections, each identified by an interpolated

title-page with a Roman nurneral. Each of the six sections in turn are subdivided into

distinct episodes which fluctuate between present tense narration and flashback episodes.

An analysis of the revision of the inner structure of section 1 demonstrates Atwood's

control of narrative sequence.

Section 1 develops a close net of intenvoven episodes, some of which are

separated through a centred bullet [ ] between paragraphs. Other episodes are separated

only by extra space between paragraphs. While the visual indication of distinct episodes

through page layout is not systematically realised in the early drafis, the narrative

technique itself is conceived fiom the very beginning. The centred bullet is anticipated

through Atwood's use of the symbol '#', which she begins to use from the first draft on.

Rather than relying on Atwood's visual separation of distinct episodes, 1have choosen

Reingard Nischik's definition (1 98 1, 154) which provides a more reliable tool for

identification. Nischik uses the Anstotelian categories of the unity of tirne, place, and character-rigindiy designed for the analysis of drama-as useful touchstones for the isolation of distinct episodes. Changing even one of the Aristotelian parameters or

"fundamental variables" (Nischik 154) results in the formation of a new episode.

Applying Nischik's tenns reveals the significant nature of the break between the

opening episode just discussed and the remainder of section '1'. Supported by the visual

break of the centred bullet, in narratological terms the change in two of the three

fundamental variables marks a new episode. The setting is now the Caribbean as

opposed to Canada and the action takes place at least several days afier the opening

sequence. Only the focus on the protagonist is maintained as a link between episodes.

Two additional levels of breaks need to be mentioned between the opening episode and that which follows. The last sentence of the first episode, "I want you to believe me, 1 said"-here quoted fiom TS.D (34.1.12)-differs from the first sentence of the following episode, "There are two hours in Barbados, or so they tell her" in two nmatological elements. The verb tense shifis fiom past to present tense, resulting in a greater irnrnediacy in the process of telling. Simultaneously, the shifiing of the narrative point of view from first to third person results in greater distancing.

My interest here is in Atwood's development of the novel's structure, particularly the sequence of episodes-the order in which they appear in the novel as well as the individual episodes' structures, especially the modification of their motifs and their structure. For a more effective structural analysis, the sequence of eight episodes fiom sectionT in the fust draft, MS.A, have been labelled with the capital letters A to H." in addition, two episodes which Atwood devises later in TS.D are labelled as episodes X

17 This form of analysis is inspired by Genette, which includes the analysis of temporal order in narratives. and Y. For an overview of the episodes' sequential arrangement, see the table "Overview

of the Episodes in Section i" (p. 1 8 1).

For this discussion, two different types of episode need to be distinguished.18 The

narrative's main episodes chronologicaily relate Remie's trip fiom the stopover in

Barbados to her arriva1 at the "Sunset Inn" on the Caribbean island of St. Antoine

(episodes A, B, D, and G). Then, the nove17ssecondary episodes are treated. The

secondary episodes comprise a senes of flashbacks to events before Remie's departue, such as events in Toronto or in her childhood (episodes C, F, H, X. and Y).

In the first draft, MS.A7 both main and secondary episodes are unvaryingly written

in the past tense so that the two types of episodes easily blend into one another.

However, starting with TS.D, the main episodes are moved into the present tense. This revision leads to a more lively and immediate style of narration, raising the main episodes relief-like fiom the background of the flashback episodes which remain in the past tense. ''

l8 The distinction between narrative threads is inspired by Reingard Nischik's Geman terminology (1 98 1,37). She differentiates the main narrative thread rHaupterzahl- strang"] fiom secondary narrative threads r6Nebenerzahlstrange"]. l9 See Harald Wei~ch(91 n) for a descrition of this literary technique. Table 13: Overview of the Episodes in Section 1

MS.A TS.B TS.D TS.E

A Barbados A Barbados A Barbados A Barbados X Griswold

B Call for R's flight B Call for R's flight B Call for R's flight C Before the operation

C Before the C Befure the C Before the B Cal1 for R's flight operation operaiion operation _ - - X Griswold -- D On the airplane D On the airplane 1 F Cancer F Cuncer 1 diagnosis diagnosis

E Arriva1 in St. F Cancer D On the airplane D On the airplane Antoine diagnosis

Y Afer Jake moved out

F Cancer E Arriva1 in St. E Amval in St. H After the diagnosis Antoine Antoine operution

G Dinner at the [missing] H ABer the E Arriva1 in St. Sunset Inn operation Antoine

Y Afrer Jake moved out

H Afier the H AJer the G Dinner at the G Dher at the operation operation Sunset Inn Sunset Inn

Episodes of the main narrative (Rennie's trip): A, B, D, E, G

Flashback episodes: C, F, H, X, Y Episodes of the Main Narrative Episode A, the stopover in Barbados, is an episode of transition. preparing readers for the protagonist's immersion into a new setting and a new phase of her life.

Throughout the revisions the sequential placement of episode A, remains stable; it constitutes the first in the series of travel episodes. The revision of the first sentence in the first, holograph draft reveals a technique fiequently encountered in Atwood's process of rewriting. The text block begiming with ''when Rennie got off the plane the heat came down over her face like a piece of thick W brown velvet" (33.1.8) is cut here fiom the stopover in Barbados and placed in the next, the second drafi, TS.B, in a later position, at the beginning of episode E (33.2.27), Rennie's arrival at St. Antoine, so that the simile of hot tropical air is not lost. The transfer of the image from Rennie's stopover in Barbados to Remie's arrival at her final destination, the island of St. Antoine provides the use of this simile with other symbolic connotations. From the moment of her arrival at the final destination, her surroundings physically affect Rennie. Similarly. she becomes entangled in the mosquito netting in her hotel room at the Sunset Inn, giving us another instance of

Rennie's being restrained and entrapped, almost being ~tran~led.~~Far from remaining the detached observer, from the moment of her arrival in the new surroundings Rennie is becoming involved, through the sense of touch.

Another text block is cut from the end of episode A. Beginning with "the camera bag strap cut into her shoulder" (33.1.9), some 27 lines which enlarge the topos of

20 The restriction evokes associations with the motif of the Tarot card's tied-up woman, discussed above on p. 163. Rennie's illness are taken out and reinserted in an enlarged version as the closing text

block of episode B.

Rennie's transition into a new world is prepared during her stopover in Barbados.

When Rennie changes her wardrobe in the women's washroom, the scene metaphorically

prepares us for this transition. Atwood's revision of Rennie's changing reveals more

elements of the situation: illness is Merthematised; her neutral personaiity is stressed

and contrasted with Jake's aggression; the details of Rennie's depamire are Mer

elucidated in a scene with her Toronto travel editor; and her mental disposition as a single traveller is highlighted.

While the illness topos is reduced in MS.A at the end of passage A, the later draft

TS.D reintroduces some references, at first more indirectly ("she examines her face in the mirror, checking for signs. In fact she looks quite normal" [34.1.13]) and then more explicitly: "there's a blow-dryer for your hands, which claims to be a protection against disease. The instructions are in French as well as English, it's made in Canada. . . . She's ail in favour of protection against disease" (34.1.13).

Rennie's concern for appearing normal and blending in is rounded out mer with the following insert in TS.D: "This is the effect she aims for, neutrality, she needs it for her work as she used to tell Jake. Versatility. Invisibility" (34.1.13). An inserted flashback contrasts Remie's strategic low-key behaviour with Jake's preference for aggressive flamboyante:

Take a chance, said Jake, during one of his campaigns to alter her. .

. . Make a statement. Other people make statements, she said. 1just wnte them down.

That' s a cop-out, said Jake. If you've got it, flaunt it (34.1.13).

Jake's manipulative power is first revealed at this early stage in the narrative in TS.D as a

foi1 to Remie's inclination towards passivity.

At 1st some detaii of her departure is included, thus providing some clues for the

link between the opening episode in Rennie's apartment and episode A, the first travel episode: "She thinks about what's behind her. . . . As for the apartment, she just shut the door with its shiny new lock and walked out, one of these days it [her departure] may be permanent" (34.1.13-14).

In TS.E, a 34-line insert further elucidates the circumstances of her departue.

The seed of this episode of Rennie's conversation with the travel editor Keith is already planted in TS.B in episode D. Now, however, the circurnstances of her fishing for and landing a travel-piece assignment on a Caribbean island are included in the first travel episode, thus providing a more motivated and plausible progression of the narrative.

1 want to go somewhere warm and far away, she said.

Try the Courtyard Cafë, he said.

No, senously, said Rennie. My life is the pits right

now. I need a tan . . . Nothing political, she said. 1 can do you a good Fun

in the Sun, with the wine lists and the tennis courts . . .

Ordinarily she wodd have done some homework, but she was in too

much of a hurry. This tirne she's flying blind (35.1.1 1-12).

The introduction of this episode helps to close some of the gap between the novel's opening and the first travel episode. The dificdty of a single woman travelling by herself who prefers to be left alone becomes more visible in the revision of Remie's activity during the stopover. In the first drafi, Rennie tries to bide her time while waiting for the connecting flight by reading a book, Creole Cookeq (33.1.8~).In the second draft, this constructive activity becomes replaced with utter boredom: "she watched her hands and the icecubes in her glass" (33.2.10). Remie's newly devised boredom allows for the first instance of a reference to a recurring hands rnotifB2'

The last extension of episode A reveals Atwood's gift for the description of visual impressions. The detailed observation of tacky souvenirs for sale, such as "small black handicrafl dolls at inflated prices . . . and mirrors cmsted with shells" (33.1.9) is topped with a truly original example of tourist-shop monstrosity in which Atwood's sharp satirical power reaches a pimacle: "A miniature five-piece steelband, mounted on a slab of driftwood, in which the players were toads. Looking more closely she saw that the toads were real ones that had been stuffed and vamished" (33.2.10).

Episode B: The Ffight is Called Episode B continues the main narrative at the sarne place and is chronologically continuous with Episode A. The significant innovation of its structural position results in the fifüi draft, TS.E. In this draft, the chronological continuum between episodes A and

B is interrupted by the interpolation of episode X, a flashback scene to Rennie's childhood and flashback episode C which Merdetails Rennie's relationship with Jake.

The two main tendencies in Atwood's revision of episode B are the further elaboration of

2' For a discussion of the motif of hands in Bodil~Harm, see Carrington, Rubenstein, Irvine, and Kirtz 119-121. Rennie's psychology and the expansion of Remie's illness. Particularly prevalent as a literary technical device is the chain of fiee associations of thoughts.

In the second draft, TS.B introduces a new minor character, "a man who was wearing sunglasses even though it was dark offered to carry her carnera bag for her, but

Remie refused politely. She did not want anyone siaing beside her on the plane"

(33.2.1 1v). While this character does not reappear later in the novel-unless one reads it as a first, incognito appearance of the drug smuggler Paul-this secondary character fulfils more than the role of an extra. The bespectacled character functions in two ways: first, as in the situation in the airport cafeteria, he allows Atwood to reiterate Rennie's need for keeping her distance, especially fiom men. Secondly, by referring to the heavy carnera bag, in the second draft. the passage allows the reintegration of the illness topos by recycling a text block cut in the first draft, MS.A, fiom the ending of episode A: "the camera bag strap cut into her shoulder and the flesh above her breast, her real breast, the left one. The fake one felt clamrny and wam and heavier than usual" (33 2.1 1).

While the description of Rennie's illness in TS.B culminates in a parody of classical mythology, "1'11 take up archery. . . . The Arnazons used to cut them off on purpose" (33.2.1 l), thus stressing Rennie's potential aggression, in the fourth drafi, TS.D, the passage is revised to underline Rennie's victim mentality and her feelings of persona1 disintegration: "the scar is pulling again. When it feels like this she's afkid to look down, she's afiaid she'll see blood, leakage, her stufbg coming out'' (34.1.16- 17).

Now that she has alluded to Rennie's fear, Atwood applies a fiequently utilised technique, the association of ideas. Rennie's fears trigger a reference to her operation: "She had a horror of sorneone, amyone [sic], putting a knife into her and cutting some of her off, which was what it amounted to no matter what they called it" (34.1.17). in Rennie's psychology, the surgeon's scalpel triggers an association with murdered women: "She disliked the idea of being buried one piece at a theinstead of al1 at once, it was too much like those women they were always finding, strewn about ravines or scattered here and there in green garbage bags. Dead but not molested" (34.1 .17). Prepared by the earlier phrase.

"no matter what they called it," the attention to the meaning of words leads to the reference to Rennie's childhood misunderstanding of the word "molested": 'bwhen she was eight, she7dthought a molester was someone who caught moles. A molester is someone who isn't decent, said her grandmother. But since this was what her grandmother said about almost everyone, it wasn't much help" (34.1.17). nie defamiliarisation of the word "molester" through the child's incorrect morphological analysis, deriving

"molester" fiom the noun "mole" rather than the verb "to molest," provides a new and fiesh emphasis on the leitmotif of physical and sexual violence against women. Through its incongruously humorous and naïve misreading, the child' s analysis underlines the brutality of the word's tnie meaning and the seriousness of women as victims. At the sarne time, the passage illuminates the role of Rennie's puritan upbringing as signified by the sternness of her grandmother. Rennie's psychology is therefore shown to be subliminally influenced by the danger of male violence fiom her childhood on. The chain of associations runs through three stages: Rennie's fear of her body's scars, the fear of the surgeon's knife, and the fear of sexual assault.

Episode D: On the Airplane to St. Antoine The main narrative is continued in episode D with Rennie on board the plane which takes her to her final destination, the island of St. Antoine. In the first draft, MS-A, this episode has little importance for the novel's content other than functioning as a

transitional passage. In the first draft, Rennie sits next to a woman, "wearing a navy blue

felt hat and a fake-fur shorty coat" (33.1.14). There is no conversation between Rennie

and the woman beside her. In the first draft, the passage introduces Rennie's

condescending observations as a travel writer in a third-world country, expecting the

same luxurious treatment as in an industrial, consumer society. Rennie cnticises the

airline for serving "warrn gingerale", ridicules the stewardesses' outfits: "hot pink satin

outfits with short skirts and . . . high-heeled sandals, open toed with multiple straps. magenta, fùck-me shoes, Jake would have called them" (33.1.13)' and complains about the airplane's noise: "the &one of the engines was very loud" (33.1.14). These three points of criticism are maintained and further elaborated throughout the drafis: next to

luke-warm drinks another draft adds sandwiches, "made of slices of white bread, with slightly rancid butter" and the description of a stewardess with "straightened upswept hair like Betty Grable's" (34.1.29).

In the second draft, however, the episode on the airplane receives a significant revision, the addition of a new character, "there was a man beside Remie. . . . it wasn't the white man with the safari jacket" (33.2.17). This addition in the second draft provides the seeds for Rennie's encounter with Dr. Minnow, presidential candidate on St. Antoine and the island's politics. This encounter between Dr. Minnow and Rennie on the airplane to St Antoine becomes the key scene for Rennie's happenstance involvement with politics and the novel's political theme in general. Underlining the importance of this first encounter, a later drafl includes an extensive block charactensation of Dr. Mimow: an older man, brown. He's wearing a dark suit despite the heat, and a tie in

which a small pin shines . . . He's about sixty, spare-faced and tall, with a

hi&-bridged nose; he looks vaguely Arabian. His jaw is undershot, so that

his bottom teeth close slightly over the top ones (34.1.29-34.2.1).

Rennie becomes involuntady engaged in a political discussion with Dr. Mi~ow.

He confionts Remie with the results of misguided foreign aid when implementation is

not monitored. In the second drafi, an earlier eruption of a volcano constitutes the linking

thread throughout their conversation. The resulting emergency allows Atwood to

illuminate the inefficiency and corruption on the island:

the sweet Canadians donated a gigantic piece of canvas. It was meant to

cover the reservoir on St. Antoine, so the water would not be polluted by the

falling ash. By the time it arrived, the water was already polluted, and when

they unfolded it severai large pieces had been cut out of it (33.2.17).

The corruption is hirther illustrated with an example of donated food which does not arrive at its intended destination:

The sweet Canadians also donated a thousand tins of ham, Maple Leaf

Premiurn . . . for the refugees from the SoufXere [the volcano]. . . . The ham

turned up at the Indepenclence Day banquet. . . . For the leading citizens

only. Many of us were very amused (33.2.1 8).

In a Merexample, Dr. Minnow shows how inefficiency and corruption when the vulcano erupted directly caused the loss of human lives:

The British had planted a device on the side of the mountain which was

supposed to wam people in the. It accomplished its purpose, and those maintainhg the device notified the Prime Minister. Unfomuiately he was

drunk and did not see fit to inform anyone else (33.2.20).

Rennie's part in this discussion remains passive and apolitical. Avoiding the topic of corruption, she only asks questions about general, factual aspects of the volcano's eruption:

'When was the volacno [sic], then?' . . . not wanting to appear as ignorant

as she was . . . She had heard about it. . . . She'd forgotten it was St.

Antoine, and the travel editor must have forgotten too, since he hadn't

mentioned it.' Usually she would have done her homework before setting

off, but this time she'd been in too much of a huny (33.2.18).

The second draft, TS.B, inserts an extra page (33.2.19), paginated as 18A. describing Rennie's haphazard preparation for her trip in this context. In a later draft,

TS.E, however, the flashback to her conversation with the travel editor is cut fkom episode D and introduced at a much earlier part of the novel, Remie' stopover in

Barbados, episode A (see above). The volcano is mentioned one last time, underlining Dr.

Minnow's peculiarity in a non sequitur between speech and behaviour. At iast, the motivic, narrative thread is cut as Dr. Minnow's actions do not relate to his speech:

'You can purchase small envelopes of the vuicanic ash, if you wish.' He

reached into his pocket. . . But al1 he took out was a bottie of aspirin. He

tapped two into his palm and offered her the bottie as if offering a cigarette,

before he put it away (33.2.20).

In TS.D, the whole episode of Rennie on the airplane is restrucnired and condensed. The volcano eruption is taken out of the conversation between Rennie and Dr. Minnow. The threefold example of the ineficiency of foreign aid is reduced to one,

the example of the timed meat. The source of the people's need is now solely the

destructive force of a hurx-i~ane.~~The political tenor of episode D remains present or is

even reinforced through Dr. Minnow's cynical irony:

' We get mostly Canadians,' he says. 'The sweet Canadians. . . . 1 trained

in Ottawa, my fiend,' he says. '1 was once a vetennarian. My sprciality

was the diseases of sheep. So 1 am farniliar with the sweet Canadians.' He

smiles, speaking precisely. 'They are farnous for their good will' (34.2.1).

Dr. Minnow's reference to sheep provokes the readers' association of the proverbial obtuseness and passivity of sheep in the context with "sweet Canadians." This ironic

implication falls back particularly on a characterisation of Rennie's tin ear for irony and her lack of sharpness: ''Re~iecan't tell whether or not this is meant as irony. 'We're not al1 that sweet,' she says" (34.2.1). Rennie's reaction to Dr. Mimow's statement confirms such an association.

Typicd for Atwood's narrative technique, a detail which on the surface seems quite imocuous and trivial may yet fulfill an important function as a thematic Iink. Such is the case with the recurring reference to Dr. Mi~owtaking an aspirin pill. In the second draft, TS.B, the pi11 will allow yet another reference to the poor quality of the service on board. Motivated by his intention to take an aspirin, Dr. Minnow asks the stewardess for a glass of water. Her reply is, '"We only have gingerale,' [the stewardess]

22 By cutting the reference to the vulcano eruption altogether, it appears that Atwood intended to Merveil the explicit reference to the events on St. Vincent. The vuIcano ''Soufière" on St. Vincent did indeed erupt earlier that year (The Times Index Jan-Dec 1979, Volcanoes, St. Vincent). said. 'It will have to do,' he said. . . . 'In my country this is a very useful phrase"'

(33.2.20). Dr. Mi~ow'scommentary raises this incident to the level of a generd comment on the politicai and social reality of life on St. Antoine.

Rennie's reaction to Dr. Mimow's offenng her a pi11 Meradds to the implicit characterisation of her personality. A later draft's addition reads: "Remie doesn't have a h~adache,but feels she should take one anyway, it's the polite thing to do" (34.2.2).

Rennie's tendency towards passivity is confirmed in her accepting something against her will only for the sake of politeness, a personality trait which becornes calamitous afier section III where she agrees to pick up a parcel from the airport. Her self-conscious concem for politeness is extended in the sarne draft. Dr. Minnow offers Rennie his cup of ginger-ale, to which she replies, "Tm saving mine for later.' She holds the aspirin in her hand, wondering if she's just been rude" (34.2.3). The insistent retention of this narrative eiement finally produces considerable situational comedy: "as they stand up, he holds out his hand for her to shake. Rennie transfers the aspirin" (34.2.3). The integration of this seemingly negligible detail shows Atwood's aptitude for shaping her narrative on multiple Ievels. This dialogue-dominated episode sustains the reader's interest in narrative portions interlacing the dialogue. This attention to detail transforms the text into a polyphonie narrative in which meaning is created on various levels of the text.

Unknowingly, Rede's conversation with Dr. Minnow has already involved her in the island's politics. in a later draft, Atwood adds Rennie's subliminal aversion to

Mimow's political discourse: "Rennie doesn't know what to say to this. She feels as if he's making fun of her in some obscure way, but she isn;t [sic] sure why" (34.2.1). Renie's averse feelings are even strengthened in the next draft (TS.E) and a feeling of fateful inevitability is added:

Rennie is becoming imtated with him. She looks at the pocket in the seat

back in front of her, hoping there's something she can pretend to read, an

airline magazine, barf-bag mags as they're known in the trade, but there is

nothing in it but the card illustrating emergency procedures. On the 707 to

Barbados she had a thriller she bought at the airport, but she finished it and

left it on the plane. A mistake: now she's bookless (35.1.29).

Atwood's use of 'journalese,' such as "barf-bag rnags," gives the episode an authentic colouring.

Several drafts into the writing process, in TS.D, Atwood increases her indications that Rennie, who attempted to escape from conflicts at home, will also be exposed to disagreeable situations in the Caribbean. One such indication is Dr. Minnow's pointed question about her personal statu: '"You have a husband?' . . . The question has caught her by surprise. . . . Rennie sees that this isn't an advance, its concern" (34.2.4). Mimow's question takes up the theme of a woman travelling alone again and uses it in a more pointed form to hint at the potential danger. While Rennie still believes herself on a trip away from danger and molestation, another addition to the novel already refers to the place of her later incarceration when Dr. Minnow lists some of the isïand's noteworthy sights: "There is a fort also. . . . The British were geed proficient at that, too" (34.2.2).

Another addition has Minnow unwittingly allude to the dangerous nature of his situation through a simile explaining his name: Dr. Minnow, like the fish. My enemies make jokes about that: A small

fish in a small puddle, they Say. It is a corruption of the French. Minet

was the original, it was one of the many things they lefi behind them. The

family were al1 pirates (34.2.4).

The addition underlines Atwood's interest in carefully crafiing her characters' names.

While the reference to the fish, a symbol of early, persecuted Christians, alludes to Dr.

Minnow as a Christ-like figure corne to Save the island's population fiom poverty by the introduction of a fair political system, the reference to the narne's French etymology uicovers another interesting subtext. For the French origins of the character's name reveal a closeness with the French word "minotier," or miller, which evokes parallels with the Grimm's tale of the "Robber Bridgroom." In this sense, Dr. Minnow can also be seen as a protective father figure. The passage resonates with earlier versions of the novel or, as Atwood slyly remarks about the name: "it [is] one of the many things they left behind them." in this fourth draft, Atwood underlines Rennie's naiveté by adding her ignorance of political adversity. Instead, Rennie is fascinated by Dr. Minnow 's ancestry :

"This is the fvst thing he's said that has interested her. 'Really?' she says. 'That's neat"'

(34.2.4). In the process of revision, episode D is outfiaed with a cleverly ironic ending.

Two contradictory signds to the reader are ironically combined to underline Rennie's contingent situation: "She smiles at him, hoisting her camera bag. '1be fice,' she says" (34.2.4). The passage's dramatic irony lies in the combination of Rennie's optirnism with a merreference to an object-the camera bag-whose function has previously been to dlude to Rennie's mastectomy. Atwood's revisions thus raise the status of episode D from an inconsequential

transitional episode in the first draft to an essential introduction to the political troubles in

the Caribbean. Acute dangers to corne are already subliminally foreshadowed. The

rewriting reveais Atwood's technique of combining extended dialogue effectively with

the description of the characters' actions and behaviour.

Episode E: Arrival on SI. Antoine The senes of travel episodes closes with episode E, Remie's arrival at her

Caribbean destination, the island of St. Antoine. In the first ciraft, MS-A, this episode is

directly contiguous with the previous episode of the main narrative, episode D. However,

beginning with the second draft, Atwood separates the main narrative episodes D and E-

Re~ieon the airplane and Rennie's arrivai-in order to insert various flashback

episodes: TS.B inserts episode F, Remie at the gynaecologist, TS.D inserts episode Y,

Jake's moving out, and finally in TS.E and after, Remie's coming out of the anaesthetic

after the operation, episode H. (See table, "Overview of the Episodes in Section 1," p.

181.)

Apart fkom the place of episode E in the novel, changes within the episode are

largely denved fiom the revisions of the previous episode, episode D. After the first draft, MS.A, on the airplane, episode D, Rennie no longer sits next to the woman in the

"fake-fur shorty coat," as the second draft, TS.B replaces her with Dr. Minnow. Thus the idea of the woman in a curiously incongmous dress has been fieed for use elsewhere.

Indeed, fiom the second dr& on, Atwood recycles this raw matenal for her use in

Rennie's arrival at the airport of St. Antoine: "In fiont of Rennie was a woman wearing a fake fur shortie [sic] coat and a navy-blue felt hat, despite the heat. Earlier she'd offered Rennie some cheese puffs, fiom a large orange box of them she was carrying" (33.2.28r-

28v). Several drafts later, in TS-E, Atwood modifies and enlarges the woman's description:

a tiny woman, not five feet tall. She's wearing a fake-fur shorty coat and a

black wool jockey cap tilted at a rakish angle. . . She holds out to Rennie a

large plastic bag full of cheese puffs. From under the bnm of her jockey

cap her eyes peer up out of her dark wrinkled face, she must be at least

seventy but it's hard to tell. The eyes are bright, candid, sly, the eyes of a

wary child (3 5.1.3 8).

Even this marginal character, the island's prototype for matemal and grandmotherl y

figures, is descnbed in vivid, visual detail. Presupposing Remie's narrative point of

view, the emphasis underlines Remie's expenence as a joumalist and her gift for

O bsexvation.

In the second draft, TS.B, the woman in the fur only serves to indicate the

immigration officer's fou1 mood: "Now there seemed to be some trouble with her passport. 'How long you worked up there?' the man asked her. *Menyou going back?'

Finally he stamped her passport and let her through. When he came to Rennie he was still severe" (3 3.2.28). The exact nature of the officer's displeasure remains vague. In a later draft, TS.D, Atwood expands Rennie's involvement with the woman. The woman's eccentric behaviour makes Rennie assume her to be a religious zealot: "[the woman] opens the shortie [sic] coat to reveai an orange T-shirt. PRINCE OF PEACE, it says in large red letters. Rennie has never seen a religious maniac up close before." In the same place, to illustrate her point about the "religious maniac," Atwood inserts a bnef flashback to

Rennie's University expenences: "When she was at University, a mathematics student was rurnoured to have run through his dormitory one night, clairning to have just given birth to

Ste. Anne, but that was put down to pre-exarn tension" (34.1.8, "insert for p. 3 1").

However, Rennie's assumption proves wrong. While neither Rennie nor the reader know yet that the Prince of Peace is another presidential candidate, again the incident illustrates the island's power politics: "Rennie hem her Say to the Immigration officer in a shrill, jocular voice, 'You give me trouble, rny son kick your ass good for you'." The woman's son-in the next version modified to the woman's grandson-obviously holds sufficient power to intimidate immigration oficers. TS.D9stendency to emphasise the political therne is therefore intensified.

A detail already developed throughout the plane travel episode in draft TS.D is now brought up again: "Rennie realizes she is still clutching the aspinn in her lefi hand"

(34.2.10). Finnly established in drafl TS.D, this recurring element functions as a link between the disconnected travel episodes on the airplane and at her arrivai, episodes D and

E. Aside fiom functioning as a link back to the previous travel episode, Rennie's still holding the asphin aiso indicates the protagonist's almost paranoid psychological state of mind:

She wonders what to do with it; somehow she can't just throw it away.

She opens her purse to put it with her other aspirins, and the soldier with

the swagger stick saunters towards her. Rennie feels a chill sweep down

her, she's about to be singied out; perhaps he thinks the bottle she's

holding is some kind of illegal drug (34.2.10).

Rennie's state of rnind is charactensed as unreliable and irrational. Rennie imagines dangers where they are non-existent-the approaching soldier is merely selling her a ticket for the "St. Antoine Police Benefit Dancev-but at the same time she disregards real dangers, such as travelling alone in the unstable politics of St. Antoine.

Episode G: Dinner ut the 'Sunset Inn' Rennie's arriva1 and dinner at the Sunset Inn, in episode G, have a rather tenuous existence in the earliest drafts. While the concept of this episode is prepared in the first draft, MS.A, the later drafts TS.B and TS.C place this passage much later, in the novel's section Only in a later draft, TS.D, does this episode resurface, now in a much revised version. Significantly in this episode, two key playen in the later St. Antoine episodes are introduced, the woman who becomes Remie's cell-mate (later named Lora) and Paul, with whom Rennie has a bief liaison.

The kemel of this episode is established in the first draft when Atwood develops the hotel's ambience:

there was a kind of lounge, furnished with dark green leatherette chairs

that looked as if they'd been lifted fiom an early 50's hotel foyer in scty

some place like Belleville. . . In addition to the chairs, the lounge

contained one ironwork glas-topped table with copies of Time and

Newsweek 8 months old, and a sd-k smothered plant. Gold tinsel was

looped around the tops of the windows, apparently left over fiom X-mas.

Maybe {here) they never took it down (33.1.22~22~).

MS.A (33.1.22rw22v), TS.B (33.3.46-SO), Fragments (33.4.34-33, and TS.C (33.6.83- 37.7.1). AAer the first draft, this colourfui development of the setting is taken out of the first

episode set in the hotel. However, the description is not lost; it resurfaces in later parts of

the n0ve1.~~

In dramatic terms, the most important fbnction of episode G is to introduce a new

enigrnatic male character. in the first draft, the exposition of his character does not raise

much interest:

this man had no distinguishing features. He was completely beige. . . . he

had a short nose. a small mouth, glasses with the wrong frames,

translucent plastic, hair that blended with his skin colour . . . His narne

was Burt (Simpkins) and he was from North Dakota, which made it even

worse, Rennie longed to do hirn over, change his name, get him a different

suit (33.1 25-26r).

While the first draft does not specify what the dramatic role of this nondescnpt character is going to play in the novel, Rennie's remark-"He was almost too neutral, as if he was doing it on purpose" (33.1.26-choes ironically in the face of Atwood's later revis ion^.^' While his last name "Simpkins" in the first cirafi suggests limited intelligence, and his origin, "North Dakota" utter boredom, in the fourth draft, Atwood's revisions tum this nondescript cipher into a more charismatic character. In TS.D, the new character's name is Paul and the narrative introduces hirn through Rennie's eyes in a typical, journalistic block characterisation:

" For example, in TS.C (33.7.65) in section III or in TS.D (34.4.10) in section II. 25 Burth Simpkids attempt at neutrality resonates ironically with Rennie's own desire to create such an effect. His tan has reached the leathery stage. there are those permanent white

creases around his eyes, he must be at least forty. He has a light

moustache and post-hippie length hair, bottom of the earlobes in front, top

of the collar in back, it's a little ragged, as if he does it himself with

kitchen scissors, and he's wearing shorts and a yellow T-shirt without

anything written on it. Rennie approves of this; she liked T-shirts with

mottoes on them when they first came out, but now she thinks they're

iéiune. The man says his narne is Paul and he's fiom Iowa (34.2.2 1-22).

The first draft plays with Rennie's obsession with life-style journalism-"there was a little game she used to play, on the Street and in restaurants: she would pick a man, any man, and wonder, if you were in love with this man, what wouId be his distinguishing features?'(33.1.25). However, several drafls later, Atwood revises Rennie's preoccupation with surface descriptions, combining it with another reference to the protagonids Toronto fnend Jocasta, who has just been newly introduced in the previous flashback episode. (See the discussion of revisions to episode F below.) The introduction of these obsessions with surface appearances is identical-"pick a man"-however the new version is much bolder:

"If this man were yours, how would you do him over? A brush cut, a wet suit? It was a rude game and Rennie knew it. Jocasta, for some reason didn't. Listen, she'd say. You;d

[sic] be doing them a favour" (34.2.21).

In passing, the passage also introduces the last of the novel's main characters. In a film-like technique, the character of Lora is sent inco-dto through the scene, although as yet unnamed: As Rennie walks towards the dining room, a wornan with a tan the colour

of clear tea waiks out of it . . . The woman smiles at her with fluorescent

teeth, looking at her with round blue china-do11 eyes. 'Hi there,' she says.

Rennie gropes, wondering if she knows this person. She decides with

relief that she doesn7t,and smiles back (34.3.12).

The reader doesn't learn this character's name until well into section II: "'Hi there,' says

a flat nasal voice mildly familiar" (TS.D, 34.6.12).

The introduction of Paul is eventually constructed through a clever chah of

associations, initiated through reference to the theme of journalism. In the first draft,

Rennie begins with a journalistic pastime even while she is waiting for her dimer:

"Rennie mentally composed, though she didn't think that the Sunset h would go into her

piece" (33.1.24). Besides rerninding the reader of Rennie7sprofession, a joumalist dabbling

in travel-writing, the convention of the restaurant review drives home the fact of her being

alone and her somewhat naïve innocence: "The reader would fmd the suggestion that you

would go to a restaurant and sit there al1 by yourself, just eating, far too depressing." The

reworking of the dinner passage in the later drafi keeps and extends the journalism

motive-"Rennie gives up when the roast beef arrives, leathery and khaki" (34.2.19)-

ironically using the sarne adjectives which were previously applied to her only fellow diner,

Burt Simpkins. Rennie's train of thought is made to wander. First she is reminded of "the

put-on piece she did, months ago, on fast-food outlets . . . It was for Pandora's Swin&

Toronto section." The reference to this magazine leads Rennie to remember another of her articles: "She'd once done a piece for them on how to pick men up in laundromats. . . . Check out their socks. If thev ask to borrow your soan forget it." 26 Rennie's article about

laundromat pick ups subliminally prepares for Paul's presence in the dining room: "Rennie

picks at the alien vegetables on her plate, gazing around the room. There's only one other diner" (34.2.20).

The first clues anticipating Rennie's later &air with Paul are woven into this drafi,

TS.D, and even expanded more in the next, TS.E, in which Rennie's fascination with Paul's pirate stones becomes more explicit: "She's paying more attention. No gold earring, no wooden leg, no hooks on the ends of the arms, no parrot. Still, there's something. She looks at his hands, square-fingered and practical" (35.1 S0). The passage also weaves in another reference to the novel's leitmotif of hands.

Ironically then, Rennie's desire to subject the early draft's Burt Simpkins, a colourless and nondescript man, to a stylistic make-over is repeated in Atwood's own revisions. Atwood rewrites the pale and somewhat banal character into a man whom

Remie duly admires. In this sense, Rennie's joumey has already achieved the not fully rationalised goals of re-establishing her interest in other human beings and even reawakening her sexual desire, however naïve her desire may sound. The revisions thus anticipate Rennie's recovery of her full sexuality later in the novel. In terms of literary technique, the rewriting emphasises the importance of the chah of associations of thought for Atwood.

" This passage could be viewed as an in-joke, a self-referentiai look back at Marian and Duncan in The Edible Woman. Secondary Episodes or Flashbacks With the exception of the episode of Rennie on the airplane, episode D, al1

episodes of the main narrative contain passages of temporary flashbacks. These

flashbacks embedded in the main narrative episodes are ofien linked to the main narrative

through close thematic ties. However, the flashback episodes we are dealing with here

are independent for they are not directly comected with their context. In the final layout

of the printed book, these flashbacks are separated fiom the main narrative through the

insertion of centred bullets before and after the flashback text block. The sequence of

flashbacks stand in a loose, unchronological order.

Three of these flashbacks are already present in the first draft: Remie and Jake over dimer at the restaurant 'Fenton's' before the operation, episode C; the day of

Rennie's visit to the gynaecologist and the cancer diagnosis, episode F; and, finally,

Remie in hospital after the operation, episode H. The sequential relation between these three episodes remains unchanged. While the abstract concept of the story yields the chronological sequence episode F (diagnosis of cancer), episode C (dinner before the operation), and H (after the operation), the actual narrative rearranges these episodes in

"anachronyy'-to use Gérard Genette's terminology. Atwood keeps this "discordance between the two temporal orders of story and narrative" (Genette 40) unchanged throughout her drafis but the position between blocks of the main narrative keeps moving throughout. in addition, two later fiashback episodes are inserted in a later draft, TS.D:

Rennie's childhood in Griswold, episode X, and Rennie's loneliness after Jake has moved out of their apartment, episode Y. Both flashbacks round out the protagonist's psychology, forming what E.M.Forster cailed a "round character" to support the character's motivation, and allowing the reader to perceive Rennie as "surprising in a convincing way" (Forster 75).

While the episodes of the main narrative in section I detail the what of the action. the sequence of Rennie's journey to the Caribbean, the flashback episodes detail the wh~ of Rennie's escape; they enlighten the reader about Rennie's motivation for her sudden departure, Mfilling the promise of the first ciraft's opening sentence: "This is why 1 left"

(33.1 S).

While the episodes of the main narrative provide the narrative's firm skeleton, the various, independent flashback episodes constitute the novel's flesh which round out the narrative and bring it to life. While the main narrative episodes remain fixed in their chronological sequence and in their place in the narrative, Atwood revises the position of the flashback episodes several times. The tendency of this process of revision is to move up those flashbacks which explain the motives of Remie's departure to an earlier position in the narrative. This process underlines the importance of Rennie's Canadian experience for the understanding of subsequent events in the Caribbean.

Episode C: an Evenirtg Before the Operation The fmt flashback episode in the first draft, MS.A, is episode C. It descnbes the deterioration of her relationship with Jake between her diagnosis with cancer and the actual operation. While the novel's opening passage with the police in Rennie's apartment has already shown the accomplished fact of the end of the relationship, the flashback under discussion here contains the description of its process of dissolution:

"She knew she'd been boring lately and she'd vowed (long ago, when she was only 27) never to be boring" (33.1.1 1). Atwood's revision turns boredom into a leitrnotif throughout Rennie's evening out with Jake at a fancy restaurant before the operation. In the second drafi, the theme allows an association with Rennie's life-style joumalism-"Remie was an expert on boredom, having done a piece on it only iast year for Pandora's 'Relationships' co1umn"-in which she gives petty advice to overcome boredom: "Study his tie . . . If you're shick, make an imaginary earlobe collection and add his. Keep smiling." The triviality of ths kind of journalism is underlined with Remie's facile recycling of the topic by simply changing her audience and the perspective to male magazines "such as

Cnisoe and Gauntlet": "if she's looking too hard at your ear lobes or watching your

Adam's apple go up and down, change the subject" (33.2.34).

The later drafi, TS.D, increases the signals of a dissolving relationship by specifjh-g Rennie's mood during her evening with Jake. Despite Rennie's expertise in avoiding boredom, this drafl specifies Rennie's danger of falling into an "out-and-out boredom of the jaw-stiffening kind" (34.1.18). While the first draft already alludes to the difficulty of keeping up their conversation-"She didn't want to talk about the operation but she couldn' t think about anything else" (3 3.1.1 1)-the later draft specifies Jake's contributions to their conversation: "Jake told stories about people they knew, gossipy stories with a malicious twits [sic], the kind she used to enjoy. She tried to enjoy them as usual but instead she started to think about Jake's fingers" (34.1.19)

This later draft, TS.D, supports Rennie's boredom through literary realism in which Rennie's thoughts are shown to wander. Boredom is illustrated when Rennie no longer listens to Jake but rememben the everyday, petty disputes: He had a habit of never throwing out empty containers . . . How could she

know when it was time to get more if he kept leaving empty peanut butter

jars and honey jars and cocoa tins on the shelves? She refiained fiom

mentioning this (34.1.1 9)

Only Rennie's need for harmony holds the relationship together. The two suffer from an imbalanced relationship in which Jake dominates through assertiveness and Rennie subjects herself with submissiveness.

Atwood also enlarges the implicit, psychological description of Rennie's character in the second draft, TS.B. This rounding out of the protagonist especially includes the description of Renie's anxiety before the operation: "maybe it would turn out benign; on the other hand, maybe they would open her up and find that she was permeated, riddled, rotting away fiom the inside" (33.2.13). Starting with TS.D, this anxiety becomes even

Merextended in the later revisions. However, here the anxiety is expressed more rationally and objectively: 'Wiere was a good chance she would wake up minus a breast.

She knew she ought to be thinking about how to die with dignity" (34.1.19). The earlier assertion-that Rennie didn't want to talk about the impending operation, but could hardly think about anything else-is modified hto a demonstration to the reader, thus revealing a preference for the literary technique of "showing" as opposed to "telling."

The second ciraft enhances Atwood's leitmotif of hands. The development of the lovers' relationship is expressed at the non-verbal level: "At first he held her hand, but she felt he was doing it because he thought he ought to and after a while he stopped"

(33.2.13). Their relationship is only upheld by a sense of obligation and duty rather than a genuine affection for each other, thus reinforcing the first draft's assertion: "They walked home with their arms round each other, as if they were in love. They had been once" (33.1.1 1- 12). ui the fourth draft, TS.D, Atwood reinforces this maintenance of facades. In their attempt to bridge their dificulties through sex, Rennie finally imitates

Jake's make-belief as the only way out: "he bit her, not gently, shoving himself into her, trying to break through that barrier of deadened flesh. At 1st she faked it. That was another vow she'd made once: never to fake it" (33.2.13).

From the first draft on, Jake dominates Rennie with presents designed to please his own taste. Ln the first version, Jake gives her "nightgowns . . . with see-through top[s]" (33.1.12). However, the consecutive drafts increase Jake's fascination with risqué lingerie: "Bad taste. Garters, Merry Widows, . . . wired half-cup hooker brassieres that squeezed and pushed up the breasts. The real you, he'd Say, with irony and hope. Who'd ever guess? Black leather and whips, that's next" (33.2.12). As a packaging designer,

Jake is apt to shape her appearance without paying attention to her needs. While Jake's endeavours are carried out half-jokingly-the ultimate taunt for a designer must be to profess to enjoying bad taste-the effect is nevertheless one of patriarchal domination.

In the first clraft, the dissolution of Rennie's relationship, episode C, is described immediately after Rennie's flight to St. Antoine, episode B. Several revisions later, however, in TS.E, the crisis in her relationship is moved to an earlier place in the narrative. Atwood then places the relationship crisis before the last leg of Rennie's trip.

The reader now learns more about Rennie's motivation for leaving Canada while the main narrative has just corne to a halt during Rennie's stopover in Barbados. EpiSode F: The Day of the Cancer DiagnosLr Episode F describes the everyday life of the protagonist irnmediately before being diagnosed with cancer. Her life-style journalism is at the centre of her activities in this episode and Atwood shows Rennie's ability to adjust to the pressures of main-stream society. As a foi1 to Rennie's conformist behaviour, Atwood develops the figure of

Jocasta who becomes the epitome of unconventionality.

The first draft opens this episode with a short-breathed, run-on sentence:

In the morning of the day on which Rennie had her routine once a year

appointment at the gynecologist's, an appointment that she almost didn't

keep because Jake came back unexpectedly at noon, for a lunchtime

quickie, he said, which they both thought was mildly arousing, Re~iehad

been working on a piece on drain-chain jewellery (33.1.18).

This sentence already contains all essential elements of this episode: the gynaecologist's appointment, the sexual intermezzo at lunch-time, and her journalistic activity. Revisions concem the fine tuning of this information. The second draft removes fiom the first sentence the reference to the "lunch-time quickie," saving it for a later place in the sarne episode so as to not spoil the surprise effect for the reader.

The episode's beginning emphasises the superficiality of fashion trends, Rennie's preferred journalistic subject: "It was the latest Queen Street thg, she wrote, a semi new- wave sleaze putsn of real jewellery." In the second draft, Atwood extends Rennie's use of trendy jargon to demonstrate Rennie's reach for even higher levels of artificially constnicted effects: "beyond New Wave even nouveau wavé" (33.2.22). As Atwood develops Rennie's foil, later narned Jocasta, she underlines how these trends do not even originate with Rennie or her acute observation: "in fact it was not the latest Queen Street thing. It wasn't a thing at dl, it was an anomaly Rennie had spotted on one of her fkiends a notably eccentric and notoriously rniserly second-hand book dealer"

(MS.A, 33.1.18). in the second version, TS.B, this exotic character is named and Mer specified: "it was an embellishment that Rennie had spotted on one of her fkiends, Jocasta, who ran THE THUMBED, a remaindered and second-hand bookstore on Peter Street"

(33.2.22). Only later is Jocasta shaped into the proprietor of a speciality shop dealing in non-conformist fashions: ''RIPPED OFF, a second-hand store on Peter Street which speciaiized in violently ugly clothes fiom the 'fifties" (34.1.24). In yet a later cirafi, TS.E. the characterisation of this foil figure is Merdetailed with specifying examples of

Jocasta's merchandise: "springulator purnps, tiger-striped pedal pushers, formals with jutting tits and layers of spangles and tulle." Finally, the character's appearance is physically descnbed: "Jocasta was five foot nine, with the cheekbones of an exrnodel"

(35.1.23). Atwood graduaily builds up the character's total effect.

For a stronger contrat, the fourth draft (TS.D) specifies Rennie's conformism:

Rennie met Jocasta when she was doing a piece on the Queen Street

Renaissance for Toronto Life, al1 about the conversion of hardware stores

+ wholesale fabric outlets into French restaurants and trendy boutiques.

She herself did not necessarily believe that a trendy boutique was any

improvement over a wholesale fabnc outlet, but she knew enough to avoid

such negative value judgements (34.1.25). The contrast between Jocasta and Rennie becomes explicit in this draft, TS.D: "Rennie liked Jocasta because Jocasta was much more bizarre than Rennie felt she herself could ever be" (34.1.25). In the next draft, Rennie's carefùlly confonnist behaviour is Mer illustrated by contrast with Jocasta's intent to provoke her audience:

[Jocasta] was right over the edge in the creative sleaze line and could cany

it off, too. In her display window she made arrangements that she called

Junk Punk: a stuffed lizard copulating with a mink collar in a child's

rocking chair, motorized, a cairn of false teeth with a bom-again tract

propped against it: "How Cm 1 Be Saved?" (35.1 -23).

The title of the born-again tract could be read as obliquely alluding to Rennie's dilemma at the end of the narrative. Atwood's considerable extension of Jocasta's roIe as a foi1 to

Rennie serves to mercharacterise Rennie.

Frorn the first draft on, Rennie's ability apparently to predict social and aesthetic trends is grounded in her observant nature:

When she wasn't fooling around she was uncanny, [the editors] told each

other, as if she could see into the future . . . Rennie had to admit that

perhaps she was more observant than most. Once, she had to be. Because

of the kind of upbringing she'd had, her background (33.1.19).

The passage ties together Rennie's Toronto existence as grounded in and resulting fiom her past, thus thematically îying the flashbacks to Rennie's childhood. Rennie's ability to predict future trends is merqualified in the second draft by including editors at work:

"Once she came into the office of the weekend Star when a batch of the younger staffers were mabg up a list. . . . The list was titled 'Class: Who Has It. Who Doesn't'. . . They wanted Rennie's opinion" (33.2.24). Adding this passage in the second draft, Atwood achieves another instance of her technique of supporting the 'telling' of Rennie's tale with 'showing. ' Rather than relying on Remie's sel f-description, Atwood illustrates the esteem of Rennie's journalistic abilities by devising a dramatic situation in which this quality is recognised. While a later version cuts the passage at this point in the narrative, it nevertheiess uses the incident, merely transposing it into section II of the narrative

(TS.D, 34.4.16-1 7). The loss of this passage's tenor-it ironises and undermines the hunting for trends when Rennie questions the relevance of the word 'bclass"-is somewhat outweighed by ironising Re~ie'sdescription. While the second draft objectively reports on Rennie's ability to be "more observant than most," in the fourth draft the passage reads: "Rennie became a quick expert on surfaces when she first moved away fiorn Griswold" (34.1.27). The emphasis on "quick" and "surface" underlies the tenuous nature of this expertise. The next drafl, TS.E, fürther expands the theme:

When Marxist college professors and hard-line feminists gave her a rough

time at parties about the fnvolity of her subject matter she would counter

with a quote fiom Oscar Wilde to the effect that only superficial people

were not concerned with appearances. Then she would tactfully suggest

certain alterations to their wardrobes. . . . They were usually vain enough

to be interested (35.1.24).

The passage underlines the pervasive interest in supeficialities. Rennie manages to wield a limited arnount of influence even over those who are ostensibly aloof from such concems. The complicity of supposedly critical intellectuals gives Rennie a less isolated position. Atwood's revision of this episode reiterates the adjustment of Jake's picture.

Again, revisions attribute the language of sexuality, not to the voice of the narrator or the

protagonist-critics argue whether these two are identica12'-but rather to Jake. The first

drafi reads: "Jake came home and they had the lunchtime quickie" (33.1.21). but the

second ciraft, TS.B, is revised into "'for a lunchtime quickie,' he said" (33.225). This re-

attribution of the expression to Jake reinforces the tendency to desexualise Rennie. hstead

Jake becomes the sexual aggressor, a notion Merexpanded to include overtones of

physical violence:

He was inventive, sometimes be would clirnb up the fire escape and in

through the window instead of coming through the door, he'd send her

ungrammatical and obscene love letters in the mail purporting to be from

crazy men, he'd hide in closets and spnng out at her, pretending to be a

lurker (33 2.25).

While arguably developed in a playful mode, Jake's violent behaviour clearly makes him similar to the intruder who leaves the coi1 of rope on her bed.

Towards the end of the passage in which Rennie is confronted with her cancer diagnosis, Atwood's revision ties Rennie's illness in with her career as a life-style journalist:

She could do a piece on it: Cancer, The Coming Thing . . . The Cut off -Point. Homemaker's might take it, or Chatelaine. . . . At some point

27 Staels sees the novel's voice as an "anonymous third-person narrator" who "conveys the limited viewpoint of the protagonist fiom an intemal perspective," as the "narrator articulates a psychic life that remains obscure to the protagonist" (123). Staels also summarises differing opinions (230, n. 6). dying would be a trend, among the people she knew. Maybe she was way

out ahead on that one, too (33.2.26).

Remie's illness serves as a cynical link with her previously Iauded ability to foresee trends.

Episode H: After the Operation Episode H, "when Rennie floated up through the anaesthetic" (33.1.29)' represents the last of the flashback episodes onginally contained in the first draft, MS.A.

Set directly &er Rennie's mastectomy, the episode claborates Rennie's relationship with men, in particular the relationship with Daniel Luoma, her surgeon. The description of this budding relationship is increasingly linked back to the theme of journalism.

Falling in love with the doctor is set up fiom the very beginning: "She fell in love with [Daniel] because he was the first thing she saw after her life had been saved. She wished that it had been a potted chrysanthemum or a stuffed rabbit, some safe bedside object. Jake sent her roses but it was too late" (33.1.30). This passage fiom the first draft already implies the moment of coming through the anaesthetic as a moment of rebirth, a time which lends itself to bonding or imprinting. This biological phenomenon is slightly clearer when she hints at behavioural biologists' use of fowl for such experiments: "like fucking baby chicks" (33.1.30). The 'four-letter' expression is eliminated in the second draft, TS.B, and Atwood clarifies the phenomenon with

Rennie's allusion to yet another of her past journalistic projects: "she knew about imprinting, she'd once done a profile in Owl Magazine of a man who believed geese should be used as a safe and loyal substitute for Alsatians" (33 LX).in a later draft,

TS.D, an apologetic addition justifies Rennie's writing of this article as happening, "when she was hard up for cash" (34.2.15). Characteristically for Remie, this image of

biological imprinting, chosen to descnbe her falling in love, underlines Remie's passivity

which relies on automatic events rather then self-detennined ones.

While the first drafi already contains self-ironic cornments about the spectacle of

falling in love with one's doctor, a cliché that a whole genre of fiction bases its existence

on-"nurse novels, and sex and scalpel epics" (33.1.29vFin the second draft, Atwood's

revision rescues the phenornenon fkom pure cliché by bringing it back to more senous

forms of writing: "It was the sort of thing Toronto Life did stones about, soft-core gossip

masquerading as rescarch and exposé" (33.2.32). However, the second draft also

increases Remie's expressions of self-criticism: "It was not only inappropriate, it was

tidiculous and appalling."

The joumalism topos is also extended in another example of w~itingwithin writing. The kemel in the fint draft reads: "Daniel brought her a pamphlet called:

Mastectomv: Answers To Down-To-Earth Questions" (33.1.30v,an insert in MS.A).

The second draft provides a meta-journalistic comment, "Who wrote these things?

Nobody in her position would want to think about down or earth'' (33.2.33)?

A technical change in the representation of speech in these flashbacks between

Rennie and her doctor is introduced in the iater draft, TS.D. Atwood removes the quotation marks from the sections of speech in this flashback which had previously been marked. The unmediated experience of direct speech moves towards indirect or reported

In this context, it may be worth noting Atwood's own engagement in life-style journalism before and around publication of Bodilv Hm,as a former editor of Chatelaine, Betty Lee, noted in conversation, 27 April 1998. speech; the revision creates a greater distance between the original speech act and the reader. On an imaginary axis between "showing" and "telling," the flashback episode is moved meraway fiom the immediacy of showing towards a more mediated instance of

"telling." This revision of narrative technique increases the difference between the immediacy of the main narrative and the mediated nature of the flashback episodes. thus throwing them into greater relief.

Episodes X and Y: Chiidhood in Griswold und Rennie's Li/e After lier Separufion The episodes of Rennie's childhood in ~riswold~~and of Rennie's life after separation fiom Jake are the two flashbacks devised last in the writing of section 1. The first place where these two flashbacks occur is in TS.D. The two episodes' contents remain almost unchanged throughout the revisions after TS.D. Only details, such as the explicit and superstitiou enumeration of Rennie's misfortunes in episode X is eliminated: 30 *.in

Griswold everythg cornes in threes. . . . Rennie is silently counting. She is waiting for the third thing" (35.1.14).

While the two new flashbacks remain almost unchanged in content, their position within the sequence of the narrative significantly changes. In the revision fiom TS.D to

TS.E, episode X, Rennie's reference to her Griswold past shifis position in order to

- - --

29 Before the invention of Griswold, Ontario as a location for Rennie's small-tom upbnnging, Atwood envisioned a setting in "rootbound New Brunswick, which was still, let's face it, living in 1890," the most bitingly satirical version here quoted fiom TS.C (33.6.22). In MS.A, the first reference to Rennie's childhood does not appear until section III on a set of eight inserted folios with the underlined headline "Rennie": "'1 gew up surrounded by old people,' said Rennie" (33.1.69-76). While Griswold episodes are fust devised in TS.B (33.4.21),the New Brunswick references are not entirely erased fiom the draft until after TS.C. 'O 'O Compare the enumeration of misfortunes with the similar technique for the novel's opening passage discussed above. appear in an earlier place. From the onginai position in TS.D-afier Rennie's flight is called and afier the pre-operation episode C just before her diagnosis with cancer-the first reference to Re~ie'supbringing is now inserted as the first flashback episode of the whole novel, right after Rennie's stopover in Barbados, episode A of the main narrative.

Rennie's upbringing in a conservative, nual setting thus occupies a particularly visible and dominating position. Placing Rennie's upbringing in such an exposed position reminds us of the archetypal importance which Atwood's Survival attributes to the farnily situation in Canadian literature: "In Canadian literature the family is . . . a trap [n which you're caught. . . . [The protagonist] feels the need for escape, but somehow he is unable to break away" (1 3 1). In Canadian literature, Atwood sees the family situation inevitably resulting in generational conflict:

Children try to escape both previous generations. They desire neithrr the

Calvinism and cornmitment to the land of the Grandparents, nor the grey

placelessness and undefined guilt of the Parents. They want, somehow, to

live, but they have trouble finding a way to do this (Survival 136,

Atwood's italics).

Conceived only towards the end of the drafts, the second flashback describes

Rennie's demoraiised state derJake moved out and after the break-in, episode Y. The passage deepens the psychological impact on Rennie of these two events. Rennie has not quite recovered from the sepamtion with Jake: "when Jake rnoved out, naturally there was a vacuum. . . . Perhaps the man with the rope hadn't so much broken into her apartment as been sucked in" (34.2.6). This part of the new episode even suggests, irrationaily, a relationship of cause and effect between these two events. The passage aiso expands on the sense of shame which prevents Rennie fiom sharing this experience with

fnends, driving her into social isolation: "She had been seen, too intimately, her face

bluned and distorted, damaged, owned in some way she couldn't define" (34.2.5).

Episode Y also expands on the pathological sense of fear, which Rennie develops: "She

began to see herself from the outside, as if she was a moving target in someone else's

binoculars. . . . She began to have nightrnares" (34.2.6). At the sarne tirne, her more

rational faculties downplay her feu: "Rennie decided she was being silly and possibly

neurotic as well. She didn't want to tum into the sort of woman who was afraid of men"

(34.2.7). However, the theme of fear remains. The fear about the break-in, previously

co~ectedwith and even irrationally descnbed as the effect caused by Jake's moving out,

now becomes linked with the potential outcome of her illness: "when you pulled on the

rope, which after al1 reached down into darkness, what would corne up? What was at the end, the end?" (24.2.7-8). This new passage about Re~ie'sfear of the end's uncertainty contains an indirect metafictional resonance for the problem of the novel's ending, which wili be discussed in the next ~ection.~'

In the position of the narrative sequence, episode Y moves Merback among the flashbacks within section 1 of the main narrative. TS.E moves episode Y into its final position as the last of the various flashbacks in section 1. Episodes X and Y therefore become the fiame for the other flashbacks in section 1 of the novel.

''The introduction of fear in Bodil~Harm demonstrates an opposite treatrnent to the revision of fear in The Edible Woman, where the protagonist's clear consciousness of fear is edited out. An analysis of the section 1 revisions demonstrates Atwood's increasing control

over details of the narrative's sequence. Rather than presenting a linear narrative, the novel

develops an intricate pattern of moving back and forth among different the levels. Atwood

requires her reader to put together the novel's individual episodes into a meaningful whole.

The required synthesis, the piecing together of information into a meaningfûl whole, works

like a jigsaw puzzle, a motif which the novel repeatedly calls to mind.

Pert 3: The Novel's Ending

The first series of drafts, MS.A through TS.C, breaks off unfinished. The fust draft

in which the final episodes are comected with their narrative context is TS.D. Apart fiom

this fust integrated version, the closing episodes exist solely in an isolated holograph

version in box 33, folder 5, of the manuscnpt material. These seeds for the novel's ending consist of five episodes here marked with Roman numerais 1 through V for easier identification. Only when integrated into the context of the novel in TS.D is the last of the closing episodes, episode V divided by the insertion of yet another flashback.

The holograph versions of the novel's ending can be found in the following places: episode 1, Rennie's plane taking off (33.5.7-1 0); episode II, the grandmother's loss of her hands (33 S.1 1); episode III, the guards' abuse of Lora (33 S. 12- 14); episode

N, Rennie's release fiom her ce11 to a room (33.5.15-20); and episode V, Rennie's embrace of Lora after the abuse (3 3.5.9 1-93).

For a more effective discussion of the novel's ending, 1distinguish between two different groups of closhg episodes: the ikst group comprising three episodes, two of which are set in the prison ce11 (episodes III and V), and the flashback into Rennie's childhood (episode II) which is linked thematically with the prison episodes. The second group comprises two episodes which show Remie's actual or imagined voyage home to

Canada (episode 1 and N).

The Episodes of Rennie in the Pison Cell The Physical Abuse of Lora, Episode III The first of the prison episodes discussed here contains the climax of the novel's physical violence against women. The revision of this episode gradually increases the tension. The impending act of violence is sparsely hinted at in the first drafi, but then, through rewriting, the foreshadowing of the crisis is systematically extended so as to tie the climactic explosion to a continuum of increasing tension.

The euphemistic indicator of time, "after breakfast," hardly a justifiable description for the circumstances of their prison reality, is revised in the sarne first draft to read "at the 4 same time" (33.5.12). By implying a customary event, this new time element points to the extended period of the two women's impnsonment. At the same tirne, the suggestion of a routine action at the beginning of the episode creates a considerable contrast to the following explosion of violence. An insertion in the manuscnpt's margin already signals impending danger, "Morton is fiightened, he's got his arrn across his chest, almost touching the gun. . . . Things are no longer under his control" (33.5.12). Despite the waming signals of tense body language, the gun, and the guard's loss of control, the reader's sense of apprehension can only be vague. No concrete indications of the problem are given. Even the more specific, explicit sign of danger, "There's something wrong," is eliminated here and transferred to a later place in this episode. The later draf3, TS.D, hints more clearly at the sexud nature of male-induced violence on women. When the guards ask Rennie to take out the toilet bucket-an opportunity which Lora previously took to prostitute herself for small goods such as cigarettes-the reader is now reminded of the mounting pressure on Rennie: "Rennie isn't prepared for this, she knows what will be expected of her." This draft also specifies a contrat between the younger guard's innocent appearance, "skinny body, thin wiry arms, face smooth as a plum, eyes innocent" and his participation in the act of sexual exploitation, "'1 don't mind which one,' says the boy. He's heard something then, he wants part of it, he knows what but not what for." Only now is the more ominous foreboding of disaster, "something is about to go wrong." inserted again (34.16.27).

Increasingly in the revision of the episode, conflict is inserted. The situation threatens to explode after a build-up of Lora's verbal aggression: "What's happened to

Prince? 1s that it? You don't want me to know, you don? want to tell me. Oh shit.

Where did you put him?" Mile the conflict is still verbal, additional hints are integrated into the text, foreshadowing the coming physical reaction: m mort on]'^ the one who's sweating, it's not her, she's tight and cold" (34.16.27-28).

The situation's escalation into physical violence is finally triggered by the younger guard's passing remark: "The Prince of Peace dead gone long time ago" (33.5.13). The information dashes Lora's hope. In the later draft, the guards' reluctance to tell the tnith is transformed into an implied lie fiom the very beginning: "He never in here at all, man"

(34.16.28). The extent of the guard's deceit, which leads to the eventual escalation of the conflict, is therefore aggravated. In TS.D, the description of physical violence remains almost identical with the first holograph version. However, a few details are added, especially those pertaining to body language and the reference to hands and touching, a recurring motif which is of the utmost importance for the last of Rennie's episodes in prison. The culmination of this development is prepared for by the additional specification of Lora's bodily reaction to discovering the guards' lie: "She's dropped her hands down, she's no longer holding

Morton's m."As Lora recoils fiom bodily contact with Morton, she loses her grip on him, whereas, in contrast with his later behaviour, Morton still attempts a gesture of mitigation: "Morton puts his hand on her arm, soothingly, like a doctor almost"

(34.16.28). Only after this last attempt at peacemaking fails does the physical violence erupt.

The revision of this scene shows systematic, dramaturgical structuring. Atwood builds the crisis by starting out with a routine situation. Inserting descriptions of specific body language gives away the guards' tenseness and stress. At the sarne time, these early waming signals are carefully administered. Witness the explicit statement that

"sornething is wrong," although the acknowledgement of imminent danger is postponed to a later point, when the situation has already become tense. Also added are the reminders of the women's sexual exploitation in prison as well as the stark contrast of the innocent looks of one of the guards. Changing the inadvertent dissillusionrnent fiom deception to a blunt lie only heightens the situation's drama. The drarnatic curve of the episode is eflectively constmcted to start fiom a routine situation only to heat up gradually past the point of explosion. Rennie's Inner Change: Episode V The last of the prison episodes, episode V, devised in one piece in the holograph

version (33.5.91-93) is split in two in TS.D, through the insertion of a flashback fiom

Rennie's childhood (episode II) and another inserted passage which is eliminated again in

the next drafl, TS.E. This division of episode V is temporarily eliminated in TS.E, which

lacks both inserted passages. However, in TS.H, Rennie's imer change and the flashback

into her childhood are revived again. 'nie passage is crucial to an understanding of

Rennie's inner change. For the first time in the novel, she leaves her role as a passive observer in favour of a helping activity.

In the first part of this crucial episode, Rennie reveals her typical reaction to

anything unpleasant: "Rennie backs out of the way, into the dry corner. . . . She picks her way carefully around the outline of Lora" (33.5.91). Rennie painstakingly avoids touching the injured, unconscious Lora. Seeking for others, Rennie does not consider her own potential to help: "maybe she's dead, they won't be back until for hours, maybe not until the next morning, she'll be alone here al1 night with a dead person. How cm she get a doctor?" Even in this moment of crisis, Rennie reveals her characteristic trait of obsewing superficialities: "lightbulbs hang dong the ceiling with loops of wire in between, at regular intervals. One of them has gone out.

kwwids 1 should tell someone, thinks Rennie" (33.5.9Ir-9 1v)?~ The holograph draft's references to Rennie's obsession with an orderly household-"Rennie has never

32 The light-bulb which has "gone out" could be read as a metaphor for Lora's death. Some critics vehemently pronounce on the novel's outcorne, see Staels 149 and 15 1. liked . . . sloppiness, loose ends9'-at first appears to link this episode back to the banalities of Rennie's everyday life in Canada. However, even for Rennie's iife-style obsessed character, such heartlessness required moderation. Instead another addition

underlines her helplessness, when twning towards others for help proves Futile: "She tms around and stands with her back to the bars. She doesn't know what she should do"

(34.16.37).

In TS.D and TS.E, the first part of episode V still ends with the image of Lora's hand:

The sunlight is corning in through the little window, it falls on the floor in

squares, in one of the squares is Lora's left hand, the dirty blunt fingers

with their bitten cuticles curled loosely, untouched, they did nothing to her

hands (34.16.37).

Despite the wholeness of Lora's hand, Rennie reveals a strong aversion towards touching

Lora. The whole paragraph which contains the point of departue for Remie's inner change is moved to the beginning of the second part of this last prison episode, right after the flashback into Rennie's childhood (TS.H, 36.8.160). In this later version, the episode of Lora's suffering ends with Rennie's uncaring observation about the burnt out light- bulb, thus better revealing her state of mind. By inserting Rennie's childhood episode to divide the final prison scene, episode V, the episode cornes to function as a mirror scene which demonstrates the evolution of Rennie's behaviour fiom an objectimg aloofness to an involved, cornpassionate peaon.

The different versions reveal the problem of using this opening for the inserted episode. In TS.D, the passage's beginning clearly signals to the reader its quality of a flashback, "Rennie cornes home fiom school" (34.16.38); and in TS.H. Atwood experiments with a version conceiving the episode as Rennie's dream: "Re~ie's dreaming about her grandrnother again. She dreams she's in the kitchen" (36.8.16 1 ).

Both variants are eliminated again. Just as in the original holograph version (33 S.1 1), the identification of the passage as a flashback is left to the reader.

Thematically, the childhood flashback is linked in several ways to the surrounding passage of the prison episode. In the fourth draft, TS.D, the flashback exemplifies

Remie's character as ritualistic and pedantic-"Rennie cuts the sandwich in four and puts it on a plate, she likes small neat ceremonies like this5'-a character trait which connects with Rennie's strange desire in the prison episode to have the burnt out light buib fixed. Secondly, there is the more significant preoccupation with Rennie's fear of touching and its symbol, hands: "Rennie cannot bear to be touched by those groping hands, which seem to her like the hands of a blind person, a halfwit, a leper. She puts her own hands behind her and backs away, into the corner" (34.16.38). This passage is prepared for earlier in the novel by Rennie's fear during her encounter with the deaf and dumb man who wanted to touch her on the streets of St. Antoine. It finally bnngs her passivity to a state of crisis; Rennie cm no longer uphold her objectiGing distance without existentid consequences. For continuing Remie's strategy of keeping her distance would seriously jeopardise Lora's life.

Revised fiom the hoiograph, the passage in TS.D underlines the grandrnother's helplessness, " she starts to cry, screwing up her eyes like a child, scant tears on the dry skin of her face." The reaction of Rennie's mother is to criticise Rennie's passivity; she makes a strong statement of setting a positive exarnple: "Rennie's mother looks with patience and disgust at Rennie. . . . Don't you know what to do by now? . . . She takes hold of the grandmother's dangling hands, clasping them in her own" (34.16.38). The revised version clearly exemplifies the three-generation conflict whch Atwood's Survival identifies as a typical pattern in Canadian literature, but it also implies the appeal to liiy aside her unsympathetic and stand-offish behaviour.

The second part of the final prison episode clearly comects with this flashback episode of the grandmother's Iost hands through the repositioned passage about Lora's hand: "The hand is there in the sunlight, the rest of the body in darkness, in water, the hand is in the air" (34.16.40). Lora's hand has now found its place as a syrnbol. It is the only part of Lora's body which is still fully visible in the light. The metaphorical meaning of this passage is supported by its suggestion of the four elements of water, earth

(Lora lies prostrate on the ground), air, and fire (the sun). This moment of epiphany is expanded by two fùrther references to the sense of touch: "the hand, which feels cold" and "she takes hold of it, with both of her hands." Remie the adult has finally learnt what she refused to leam as a child: the sense of touching as means to help and to claim responsibility .

However, Rennie still cannot bring herself to connect the hand she's holding and the body in fiont of her to her idea of Lora as a person. Rennie's feelings of alienation are su11 predominant: "the face of a stranger, sorneone without a name." This depersonalised version of Lora puts her into the same category as the faceless stranger who broke into Rennie's apartment at the beginning of the novel, an incident which proved so threatening to Rennie's self-composure. The revision deepens this sense of alienation by detaching the name and idea of Lora fiom her body, an out-of-body experience of another sort which is otherwise associated with death: "the word Lora has corne unhooked and is hovenng in the air, apart fiom this min" (34.16.40).

Rennie cannot overcome this last hurdle of alienation without an inner struggle.

Tellingly, the description of Remie's imer change employs images of intense physical exertion:

She's holding Lora's left hand, between both of her own, perfectly still, . .

. yet she knows she is pulling on the hand, as hard as she cm, there's an

invisible hole in the air, Lora is on the other side of it and she has to pull

her through, . . . this is the hardest thing she's ever done (34.16.40).

Rennie's exertion produces a change in her own attitude but how positive an effect it has on Lora depends entirely on the reader's judgernent of Rennie's rdiability as a narrator. The fust holograph version indicates clear signs of life fiom Lora's movement and speech represented without quotation marks:

Lora, she says.

Lora moves, she her legs move up towards her belly, a sound

cornes out of her, she's alive.

Oh God, says Lora What did they do? (1 feel like I'm dying)

(33.5.93).

The later draft, TS.D, moves Lora's swival into greater uncertainty. Rennie's observation of these signs of life become questionable as Atwood's hints at a trick of the imagination.

"Lora," she says. The name descends and enters the body, there's

something, a movement; isn;t [sic] there? "Oh God," says Lora. Or was that real?

She's afiaid to put her head down, to the hem, she's ahid she will

not be able to hear (34.16.4 1).

The revised version ends with the suggestion of an out-of-body experience-"the name descends and enters the body"-which evokes Rennie's view of dying figures in medieval woodcuts where souls leave their bodies in the shape of paper scrolls, except that here the process is reversed: Lora's name, like a representation of her soul, re-attaches itself to the body. However, the verification of Lora's survival is counteracted by the more subjective point of view of the narrative which questions its own reiiabiiity. Rennie's fear prevents a clear prognosis of her cell-mate's fate.

The last prison episode contains the essential step of Rennie's maturation.

Inhibiting reserve and distance-a character trait which Rennie had developed since early childhood-lefi her incapable of providing an outreaching hand. Overcoming these limitations tums her into a morally aware human being.

Rennie's Return Home: Reality or Vision? Critics of Bodily Harm have rspeatedly posed the same question about the novel's ending: does Rennie escape fiom the clutches of the regime or does her rescue merely take place in her imagination? Does it exist only as a hallucinatory vision triggered by her own desire to live? An analysis of the manuscnpt evidence documenting the novel's last episode provides important insights into this question.

in the holograph manuscnpt of this episode, Atwood's use of verb tense plays an important part in determinhg an answer. The first version in the holograph drafl reads:

"The plane takes off, Rennie is sitting Waydown in the 707" (33.5.7). The grammatical tense chosen is the simple present which expresses the irnmediacy and reality of an action

(Quirk and Greenbaum § 3.28). However, within the sarne first manuscript, present tense is revised in favour of the version in future tense: "Then the plane will take off. . . ." The passage thus loses its factual character, instead gaining a more tenuous character as a future possibility. Rennie's rescue is possible, imagined, or an expression of her desire.

Further ambiguity results from the passage's continuation in the present tense:

"Then the plane will take off, Rennie & sitting halfway dom the 707" [my emphasis].

Changing the verb tense diffuses the boundax-ies between fact and possibility. Further revisions of the episode extend the use of the future tense even Mer. TS.D extends the fiiture tense to the whole first paragraph (34.1 6.44) and later drafts go even Mer. The passage of the retum flight is continuously written in the future tense up to and including

Rennie's mival at home: "she'll walk up the stairs and through her own front door, into the unknown." After reaching the narrative's farthest point in the hiture, the narrative returns to

Rennie's flight home, while the discourse falls back one step into the grammatical fom of present tense: "She's drinking ginger aie and thumbing through the in-flight magazine."

(See table below.) Table 14: The Use of Tense in the Last Episode in TS.E (35.5.59-63)

arrivai in Toronto future tense

return flight fiiture tense present tense

present tense/ Discourse i She's afraid to Then the plane she'll walk up She's drinking put her head will take off. It the stairs gingeraIe [sic] down to the will be a 707 . .. through her own and thumbing hearî .. . front door .. . through the in- fl ight magazine

A definition of grammatical tense is required for the temporal relation between the speech act and the event specified in the speech act. Considering the act of speaking as the here and now, the moments of Rennie's journey home can only be seen as a future vision without the possibility of verification for the reader.

For the discourse's return to the present tense after an extended use of the future tense two possible explanations are plausible: seen from the speech act perspective of

Rennie during the time of her incarceration, her retum trip and arrivai in Toronto are two distinct points in the future which in English cannot be distinguished through the use of distinct grammatical fonns. After the narrative reaches the point farthest into the future-the table indicates this progression by the graph's gradua1 ascent to its highest point-the step back into a less distant future can ody be expressed by returning to the present tense. The graph dips back down. A second possible explanation for the rescue episode's remto present tense rests with the construction of psychological plausibility. Afier episode IV (Rennie's release fiom the prison ce11 to a room), episode 1 (Rennie's plane taking off) is already the second episode dealing with Remie's rescue. Since these two rescue episodes are separated by another episode set in prison-counteracting her safe trip home with another level of reality bound to the prison setting-the evidence also points towards reading the rescue as constmcted in Rennie's dreams. The rescue as Rennie's flight of fancy is temporarily deflated by the interruption of prison reality. The psychological explanation of the rescue episode's shifi fiom future tense to present tense may lie in Atwood's fashioning the discourse into Rennie's subjective point of view: Rennie so strongly desires her escape that she tums her visions of hope for the future into a subjective reality in the present, a shift which is indicated by the change fiom future to present tense. This shift of grammatical tense is retained in al1 later versions.

Flights to and from the Caribbean A cornparison between Rennie's remflight to Canadian safety with her earlier flight to the Caribbean Merilluminates the controversy between real and imagined rescue. While the description of the return flight contains elements parallel to Rennie's earlier trip, such as the serving of ginger-aie and the in-flight-magazine, the passage of the return flight is revised to reflect a more mature understanding of her situation. In

TS.H, Atwood's revision of Rennie now includes a description which can only derive fiom a more objective narrative point of view, presurnably outside Rennie's own voice:

"It's ali exacîly the sarne. Nothhg is the same . . .; it's her that's been changed but it will seem as if everyone else ha" (36.8.165). The later drafts have Rennie's inner change manifest itself in a greater strength which enables her to rebuff the intrusive '&manbeside her." Coinciding with this change is a partial loss of her previous facility in labelling events quickly: "for the first time in her life she can't think of a title" (36.8.166). Atwood expresses Rennie's process of learning by playing on multiple meanings of the verb "to see": "What she sees has not altered; only the way she sees it" (36.8.164-165).Reading the verb "to see" as a metaphor for understanding, Remie's development leads from the initial departue in the dark into its dramatic opposite. On her trip out, "Rennie peers out the window, hoping to see something, but it's too dark. She glimpses an outline, a horizon, something jagged blacker than the sky" 30). By the time she retms dramatic changes have occurred.

After gaining insights into political power and into her inner self, these changes are metaphorically paralleled in the shift from darkness to light: "She looks out the window of the plane, it's so bnght, the sea is below and there are some islands, she doesn't know which ones. The shadow of the plane is down there, crossing over sea, now land, like a cloud, like magic" (TS.H, 36.8.167).

Another element taken up again here is Remie's astonishment about the hurnan ability to fly. Jokingly, Jake had claimed that only the passengers' belief in flying would keep the airplane in the air. This idea is corne back to at the end: "for a moment she can hardly believe she's here, up here, what's holding them up? . . . . heavy metal hurtling through space; (something that cannot be done}." in a metaphoncal reading, this belief in flying is paralleled by the reader's belief in Rennie's rescue and swival, achieved merely through the strength and power of will and belieE "You can flv, she says to no one, to heaelf" (36.8.167). Rennie's rescue may only be achieved when Rennie and the reader believe in it, emphasising that Rennie's real transformation is more important in the novel than her achial liberation.

Inserts of a Real and an Imaginary Character Additions and insertions in the process of rewriting the novel's ending can be assigned either to a fachial or imaginary category. Factual assertions include Rennie's development of a political consciousness and a cntical journalism: "she is a subversive.

She was not one once but now she is. A reporter. She will pick her time (then she will report}" (36.8.166). These factual additions also include a reminder of the other threat to

Rennie's life, her illness: "[the scar] prods at her, a reminder, a silent voice counting, a countdown" (35.5.63). These passages suggesting factuality remind the reader of the possibilities for Rennie's life after impnsonrnent.

Other passages gradually added to the novel increase the possibility that the novel's ending should be read as an irnaginary one. The reader's suspicion of a delusory drearn about rescue is strengthened by the increasing parallels beh~eenelements fiom the prison setting and the intermingled episodes of rescue. During Rennîe's flight home, "[tlhere's too much air conditioning, air fiom outer space blowing in through the small noules, Rennie is cold" (34.1646). This passage mirrors in the sarne clraft a dream which Rennie has in prison: "She's lying with her eyes closed, head on Lora's outspread skirt knees bent, she's up near the ceiling, in the corner of the room near the air conditioning unit, which is giving out a steady hum'' (34.16.39). 1s this dream-another out-of-body experience-a flashback to the operation? A prison on this poor Caribbean island would hardly have air conditioning. Does this drearn of a humrning air conditioner lead to its transformation into the steady noise of airplane engines? In this draft. the answer seems to be in the affirmative.

Another addition in TS.D increases the imaginary character of the last episodes:

"In five hours she'll be at the ÿirpon, the terminal. The end of the line, where you get off.

Also where you can get on, to go somewhere else" (34.1 6.43). With its paratactic additions of unconnected short sentences, the idiosyncratic syntax insinuates rnetaphorical readings. Parallels with the journey of life inevitably leading towards death corne to mind. Metaphysically speaking, the passage indicates the possibility of life after death or rebirth and renewal, such as Remie's first name-Renata, 'the bom again'- suggests fiorn the very beginning.

The Novel's Last Paragraph The novel's closing paragraph undergoes numerous revisions, in the same way as the novel's opening passage. Critics, such as Frank Kennode and Barbara Korte, have pointed out the significance of endings for the overall aesthetic impression of a piece of writing. Awareness of the special significance of endings justifies an analysis in depth of

Atwood's revision of her novel's last paragraph.

In TS.D, the ending meanders between elements of drearn and elements of realism:

But if she thinks this way they will fdl. You can fly, she says, to no-one.

and al1 at once she's back, flatland crisscrossed by roads, buildings

foreshortened by the height, therets snow on the ground already, her

shadow's on it, blue-grey, beneath her feet the scarred earth rises up to

meet her (34.16.46). In a metaphoncal reading, "scarred earth" can be equated with Rennie's own self and the physical and psychological scars which she has received. On the other hand, the passage contains the visual perception of concrete, physical objects which in their depth of detail seem to suggest a facniai presence. The two possible worlds of the factual and the imaginary are placed side by side.

In the next draft, TS.E7 the previous version extends the passage in linking it back to the last events of the prison ce11 and her preoccupation with Lora's hand: "In her right hand there's the shape of a hand, there and not there, like the afterglow of a match that's gone out. She7sforgotten whose hand it is" (35.5.63).At the same time, Lods name is obliterated and forgotten; the events are only half-remembered. Their impact on her own body remains: the "match that's gone out." Now Lods name has completely detached itself fiom her body again. This simile points to a reading of death. This version of closure with its allusion to death and its circular remto the motif of the hand may well be the most pessimistic of versions for an ending. The protagonist7smornentary progress seems to have been arrested again.

In the next version, TS.H, the ending gains its final shape. Only another insertion affimiing Rennie's new abilities is yet rnissing ("she's paying attention, that's dl"

[36.8.167]) and the final paragraph will be divided into two for greater clarity. The previous version's reference to the motif of hands is eliminated again as well as the idea of death. instead the ciosing paragraph focuses on emorions and feelings:

Zero is waiting somewhere, whoever said there was life everlasting; so

why feel gratefui? She doesn't have much time lefi, for anythmg. But

neither does anyone else. She will never be rescued. She has already been rescued. She is not exempt. Instead she is lucky, suddeniy, finally, she's

overflowing with luck, it's this luck holding her up (36.8.167).

Characteristic of the ending's final version is a syntax using short, seemingly antithetical sentences: the negative assertion, "she will never be rescued," is contradicted with, "she has already been rescued." Remie's physical fate therefore remains unclear. However, through the subjective colouring the passage receives a personal kind of authenticity attesting to Rennie's spiritual change. The thesis of doubt and death is juxtaposed with its antithesis "hope and life." Abstract nouns, such as 'life,' 'time,' and 'luck' predominate as well as the rhetorical figure of tautotes, the fiequent repetition of a word, which places an extra emphasis on the word "luck." The contrasts of rescue versus impnsonrnent are dialectically preserved, yet on a higher and more abstract level a synthesis is reached-the subjective experience of joy-which remains the reader's final lasting impression.

A Solution Atwood's revisions make the novel's ending increaskgly ambiguous. As we have seen, this tendency develops on several different levels. On the grammatical level, this development is worked through the change of verb tense where passages in present tense are revised into future tense; and on the thematic level this ambiguity is achieved through a shift fiom concrete, visual impressions to the abstract and emotional as well as the immediate juxtaposition of contradictory sentences. The question whether Re~ieis indeed freed fiom the prison ce11 cannot be answered with a simple yes or no. Indeed, the probability that Rennie's rescue takes place entirely in her own imagination becomes increasingly great. The opposing views of critics well reflect Atwood's carefully constnicted

ambiguity of the novel's ending. Cntics, like Catherine McLay, who agree with the

hypothesis of Remie's rescue claim that "Remie, like the Ancient Mariner, is the only

survivor, returned to society to recount her tale of horror and guilt" (137). in a similar

vein, Linda Howe believes in "ultimate escape and real survival" (1 82), and Roberta

Rubenstein presupposes "the reader's knowledge that she will escape" (1 33).

Opponents of the hypothesis of Remie's rescue daim that "Remie never leaves the cell" (Wilson 144) and insist that "instead of acting, Rennie fantasizes about her

release" (Atherton 14). Only Ildiko Carrington de Papp acknowledges the inherent rhetoric of dialectics, which she takes as her reason to join the anti-rescue camp:

"paradoxical statements suggest that these scenes of rescue and retum represent only a fantasy ascent from the dark underground of the dungeon" (58). The pro-rescue thesis and the contra-rescue position appear to be equally represented in critici~rn.~'

The division into two camps of almost equal numbers underlines the simultaneity of multiple readings, an ambiguity which, as we have seen, is carefully constructed. The critics' multiple readings are anticipated through the text itself. The novel's character

Paul denies the possibility of simple unified answers: "in this place you get at least three versions of everyhng, and if you're lucky one of them is tme. That's if you're lucky"

(BH 150).

33 -Pros: Blaise (1 1l), Howe (182), Hosek (289), Irvine (86), McCombs (85)' McLay (130), Mycak 1996 (155), New, W.H. (57), and Rubenstein (1 33). Contras: Atherton (14), Brydon (1 3 8)' Carrington (5 8), Davey (67), Tunle (12), Wainwright (5 8 1) and Wilson ( 144). A self-conscious, self-reflective reference to this problem of endings has been drafted among the various fragments for the novel's conclusion in box 33, folder 5, folios

2 1-24. At a time when the novel was still without an ending, Lora contemplates the dialectics of endings. She divides the range of possible narratives into tnie stories and made-up stories. According to Lora's view, true stories show the harshness of social reality, especially in the form of male aggression against women-she retells a nightmarish relationship she has had-whereas made-up stories take the fonn of romance in which rich men are gentle and wonderfui lovers (33.5.52).

Atwood seems to encourage readers to chose their own ending, just as Rennie encourages Lora: "Which do you like best?, said Rennie." While Lora prefers made-up stories because "at least they have happy endings" (33.5.24), Atwood manipulates the novels' ending so that the narrative's ambiguity leaves choice to the reader.

The role of ambiguity has to be acknowledged as a deliberate narrative technique.

Coral Ann Howell's view acknowledges the ending's ambiguity:

Instead of closure, there is oscillation between two opposite possibilities. .

. . Contradictory discourses generate the multiple meanings of these texts.

Fantasy challenges realism so that realism itself comes to look like a

convenient fiction as the surface world begins to fissure ("Worlds" 134-

135).

The dilemma's synthesis could be seen in Rowland Smith's view that "the ending of the novel is optionai" (253), and Atwood herself too, transfers to the reader responsibility for fhding the solution: "Your choice, reader's choice. 1 like the reader to participate in writing the book" (Lyons 80). While Rennie's physical fate cannot be determined any Mer,the focus should be on Rennie's psychological, emotionai, and persona1 development. Atwood acknowledges her own interest in depicting persona1 growth when she States that "novels are about change, living in time" (Lyons 73) and she refers to the fascinating precedent of the metamorphosis of in~ects:)~"[insects] change fiom one thing into another, and the thing that they change into bears no relation to what they were before" (73). Dorothy

Jones agrees that Rennie's trip proves to be just such an experience: "Her trip proves to be . . . a transforming process whereby she passes fiom winter cold to summer heat, fiom fear into acceptance and fiom non-involvement to a state of serious social and political cornmitment" (87). Fittingly for her narne 'Renata.' the protagonist finally reaches, at lest spiritually and intellectually, a new life.

The drafts of the novel contain moments of nihilism suggesting an ending in a complete void. In TS.D, for example, Rennie thinks: "(It's like a book} iocasta once leant her, nouveau wavé, it was called Death Bv Washine. Machine although there were no washing machines in the book. The main character fell off a cliff on page sixty-three and the rest of the pages were blank." However, even this bleakest of moments in the narrative is followed by a sign of hope: "[Rennie] refuses to believe this (room) is {a dead end,} the end. She refused to believe it about the book too. There has to be more''

(34.15.40). In an interview with Victor-Lévy Beaulieu, Atwood admits "I'm an optimist;

I don? kill my heroines" (Atwood, Two Solicitudes 79). This comment seems to suggest an optimistic reading, despite the novel's increasingly ambiguous ending.

34 An echo of her father's studies in entornology. Throughout the revisions, the episodes in the prison of St. Antoine are developed as the narrative's central point. Michael Dixon describes them as "the thematic and structural core" (88). The climax of violence, Lora's physical abuse, functions zs a catalyst for Rennie's spiritual renewal in a moment of epiphany. The light shed on this persona1 breakthrough in Rennie's development leaves her physical location in the shadows.

Conclusion

The development and witing of a novel can often take many years From conception, to articulation on paper to forma1 realisation. in the case of Margaret Atwood's novel

Bodily Hm,we are in the fortunate position to be able to review the whole length of the creative process-or at least its physical manifestations-fiom the first holograph manuscripts through ten drafts to the final page proofs. From the dating of the first extant manuscript, the holograph draft in box 33, folder 1, Atwood started the novel on 2 1 May

1980 at 22.22h. It took her little more than a year to complete this work. The exchange of leaers with Simon and Schuster suggests that Atwood subrnitted her completed draft to the publisher before 4 May 198 1.35 Bodilv Hmappeared in book shops in late September

1981.

Studying the drafts for Bodilv Ham, we discover a steady development in its content, which supplies the protagonist Rennie Wilford with greater psychological depth.

Through a series of threats, she is dnven into irrational, escapist behaviour. Through

Atwood's clever planting of subtle clues, the novel's opening passage is outftted with

35 See Atwood papers, box 37, "correspondence revision," particularly editor Dan Green's letter to Atwood, dated 4 May 198 1 (37.1 .l-2). anticipations, foreshadowings, and allusions to the novel's main theme of Rennie's malaise: her life-threatening illness as well as her unfulfilling relationships with men. in the process of revision. the conflict between Rennie and Jake becomes more and more transparent. An increasing may of exarnples of packaging designer Jake's attempt to dominate Rennie, aesthetically as well as sexually, shows the guif widening between them. Jake' s 'when-you've-got-it-flaunt-it ' attitude clearly alienates Remie with her desire for neutrality. Jake's development as a foi1 to Remie's personaiity has important repercussions in the implicit characterisation of Remie. She now becomes more malleable and more passive.

Atwood's use of an episodic narrative structure holds the reader's suspense. The reader receives puzzling fiagrnents which require piecing together, until a whole and complete picture is formed. In the earlier drafts, the narrative's content refers to a similar piecing together of information required by the game of Clue about a murderer's victim, weapon, and site. Through the interweaving of episodes, the withholding follows an intricate and controlled pattern, confirming Atwood's interest in "timing," which she stresses in an interview with Lyons (85). This interest in timing is reflected in the repeated revisions of the narrative episodes' progression. The published sequential arrangement is fmdised only after a series of test versions.

Following Roland Barthes, the cntic Stephen Bann refers to this novel's discourse as a '"zigzag' or 'saw-toothed' structure" (1 8-1 9). This parallel development of the protagonist's past and present, which requires simultaneous treatment of both, demands a fine balance, a balance which Atwood had to restructure repeatedly. Clarke Blake's review of the novel sees the two narrative strains as "developed in counterpoint" (1 11). Blaise's allusion to this technique of Renaissance and Baroque composition is quite apt since the novel has to CO-ordinateits various narrative strands. Like the voices of a fugue, each requires a certain element of independence yet has to fit into the creation of a hannonic wholeness.

Tnis phenornenon is particularly evident in section I, which establishes Rennie's emotional and psychological topography. Atwood rounds out Re~ie'spersona by adding childhood sequences, thus providing her protagonist with a past of a Protestant,

United Church respectability. These experiences fiom the past are show to be instrumental in the shaping of her present. The puritanical background accounts for her extreme orderliness and her fear of touch. The emphasis on Re~ie'sorigins underlines her eventual transformation.

Mile Rennie flees her Canadian existence for personal reasons, Atwood interweaves this persona1 theme with the political theme of a Caribbean island's instability and corruption. Atwood's revision achieves this technique at a much earlier point in the narrative through reworking what were initially mere transitional passages, describing Rennie' s journey to the Caribbean. Through Atwood's revisions, these transitional passages become an integral part of the protagonist's rite of passage. Re~ie is confionted with political reality right fiom the beginning of her îrip. Although readers are not presented with a continuous picture of Rennie's life fiom her childhood up to the present of the narrative, they do witness Rennie's gradua1 development fiom a naive opportunistic spectator-disregarding a bief revolutionary period at university-into a critical and politically aware person. Re~ieundergoes a process of maturation, fiom egocentric self-pity to a perception of the cruelty and injustice in the world around her.

Rennie's wish to report on the political events underlines this final emancipation.

The novel's discourse is revised so that Rennie's experiences are framed by her captivity in prison, a frame which she may only escape through a dream. The revision of the novel's ending increases the ambiguity surrounding Rennie's rescue so that in the end her fate remains uncertain. Despite this narrative inconclusiveness, her spiritual maturation leaves the reader with an impression of hopefülness.

Atwood's untinng revision, especially her method of establishing thematic links between the individual episodes through the introduction of recurrent motifs, results in a style which reveals an affinity with poeûy. A typical exarnple of such thematic links is the topos of journalism. At key points in the novel, Remie is said to have written articles on topics as various as 'boredom,' 'the fat trade,' 'drain-chain jewellery,' and

'laundromat pick-ups.' In each case, the reference occurs when the protagonist's thoughts wander fiom her current situation into the past through a chain of free associations.

These free associations also show Atwood's strength in manipulating different style registers in which to present her characters. Atwood employs the 'journalese' of life-style writing as freely as Jocasta's 'nouveau wavé' jargon. This linguistic realism when combined with other realistic elements, such as the authentic Toronto setting for local colour and the colloqial dialogue, has been achieved through many drafis, so that one critic's cornplaint that 'WSnovel is written without care" (Kilgore 15) cannot be treated seriously. Chapter 6

Conclusion

Gaining access to Atwood's pre-publication matenals or avant-textes provides the literary critic with invaluable insights. Rather than having to rely on a single textual version, as most literary critics do, those studying manuscript matenals cmacquire greater understanding by reading through the several layers of texts behind the published text's surface. Access to this third dimension of the text also reinforces and illurninates the notion of writing as process. The published text is no longer an easily consumed, finished product, but a palimpsest of layered documentation, requinng ngorous discipline to recover each manuscript's place and meaning in the sequence of events which comprise the arduous process of literary creation. As noted earlier, this curiosity about the added dimension of literary drafts has given birth to a new discipline called "genetic criticisrn."

Applying genetic cnticism to the pre-publication material fiom two of Margaret

Atwood's novels reveals contrasting techniques of composition and revision and provides critical insight into hidden layers key to the novel's interpretation. In the search for a practical example of what genetic criticism can accornplish and the results which this methodology can deliver, The Edible Woman and Bodilv Ham constitute ideal objects, since Atwood's writing process is documented with ample manuscript materiai. The two novels pose two different sets of problems for analysis of the writing process since each novel underwent conhsisting patterns of revisions. Atwood's first published novel gestated for almost four years, a period prolonged because the publisher lost Atwood's manuscript. Atwood's method of revision in The Edible Woman is characteriscd by the technique of eliminating material. In contrast, her 198 1 novel,

Bodilv Hm,took little over a year from first full draft to publication and the process of revision is characterised by the addition of material and an intensification of the motivic structure. Analysis of the two novels thus yields specific insights which enhance each novel's interpretation and a strong sense of her increasing ability as a novelist.

In The Edible Woman, Atwood eliminates fiorn the text information which provides the protagonist as well as the reader with insights and explanations detailing the situation. Atwood removes these explanatory passages and replaces them with elisions or, in the words of Wolfgang Iser, gaps and blanks. This process of removal results in gaps which the reader fills in while interpreting the text. Removing the explicit thus encourages the reader's more active participation.

The theory of gaps cm be closely linked with the politics of naming. Throughout the six drafts, Atwood carefully revises narnes. Her heightened awareness of the significance of naming is manifest in two senses, what is or is not named as well as how someone or something is narned. For example, the first category-the what is and what is not narned-is exemplified in the discussion of the enigmatic character Duncan, given the sumame "Fluevog" in the early drafts, which suggests and underlines his fiagilit-.

However, the revisions remove his last name and thus obliterate its important connotations. In the second category-the significance of how something or someone is narned-we may observe the change of the protagonist's last name. This revision shows

Atwood's elimination of overly direct allusions to small-tom moral conventions and

Marian's expressed sense of domesticity. The change in Marian's surname effaces overt

allusions to the strictures which the character's social and moral background places on

her present situation. In both instances, recovering the character's originally devised

name also recovers that narne's connotations. Lost connotations throw a different light

on the ensuing action of the novel, necessarily of import for the novel's interpretation by

readers.

The genetic critic studying the manuscript material for The Edible Woman will

furthexmore discover Atwood's process of reducing drarnatic situations which reveal

Marian's ability to judge rationally, the explicit portrayal of Marian's mental imbalances.

and situations which reveal her battle with conflicting selves. This exclusion of

material-Atwood's refusal to narne-also applies to the overt expression of Marian's

mental conflicts, such as the presentation of Marian's contradictory judgements of Peter.

The drafi material reveals Marian in situations where she is both distressed about Peter as

well as concemed for his feelings. Again, the desire to warn Len of his impending fate contrasts and conflicts with her curiosity IO see how he will cope with it. Hallucinatory experiences in the department store disappear, but Marian also loses her gift for detailed and clear obser~ationduring the final Party. The paranoia of the party is increased through elirnination of the boundary markers separating fantasy fiom reality. Two dolls function as an emblem of Marian's difliculty in discriminating between fact and fiction.

In the early drafts, they play a prominent role as Marian's doubles, revealing her schizophrenic tendencies, but this element is downplayed in the final version. In The Edible Woman, Atwood creates a pattern of expunging Marian7suse of the explicit, rational, and articulated in favour of a preference for the implicit. emotional, and elliptical. This focus on the symbolic infoms Atwood's resolution of Marian's dilernma through the use of the cake woman.

The revisions in The Edible Woman eliminate explicit meaning, often leaving it to the reader to construct their own interpretation instead. Besides adding to the desirability of greater reader participation, the revision also restructures the protagonist's psychology.

Marian's mental state makes the kind of insights she displays in the drafts rather unlikely.

The elimination of direct insights into Marian's dilemma tums her into a more believable character who suffers from intense emotional stress. Showing replaces telling.

The analysis of the manuscript material for Bodilv Ham reveals the opposite approach to revision. Rather than using a method of reduction, Atwood synthesises her material to create a denser and more poetic focus, Studying Atwood's revisions to Bodilv

Harm provides insights into the nove17sreading of similar importance. Even outside the text proper, the paratextual Me-in this instance the use of varying titles-provides significant evidence for a better understanding of the novel. Atwood's ciraft novel titles, each with its unique connotations, illuminate the text differently. Like the different stage lighting which designers use to highlight dramatic action, the title "The Robber

Bridegroom" illuminates the elements of male violence against women in its allusions to the Grimm fairy-tale. However, it is implied that this violence may be subverted through the art of female story-telling.

Fitting into Atwood's pattern of revision for Bodilv Harm-a pattern charactensed by Atwood's synthesis of her matenal to create a greater density-the final title weaves far more connotations into its web. The web of allusions encompasses not only the threat of violence fiom outside the protagonist, but it also includes an implied reference to Marian's being attacked fiom within her body, through the spread of cancer cells. At the same tirne, the title manages to include both the political and the persona1 as each has an impact on the protagonist, caught, as she is, in the middle of the plot development.

Equally important for an understanding of the novel is the analysis of Atwood's expenments with various settings for the novel's opening passage. Atwood's initial use of a spring setting would evoke diametrically opposed connotations for a reader than would the fa11 setting she later adopted. This example reveals the symbolic and also the visual strength of Atwood's imagination, which has intentionally created the setting rather than accidentally corne across it.

The genetic cntic primarily observes difference. Comparing differences from one dr& to the next reveals meaning, because it is only in the observing of these differences that the construction of meaning becomes possible. In Ferdinand de Saussure's studies of the creation of meaning through the recognition of difference, recognising the difference between the phonemes /pl and /t/ enables the listener to discriminate between the words

'?in'' and "pin." in much the same way, the genetic cntic will observe the creation of meaning in studying the variants in related draft passages. The recognition and analysis of manuscnpt variants yields a deeper understanding of literary meaning. Only through the cornparison of two sirnilar versions cm the idiosyncrasies be illuminated.

In this sense, studying the development of BodiI~Harm through a systematic cataloguing of differences also reveals Atwood's creation of thematic density. While an observant textual critic may recognise this literary technique in Bodilv Hm's opening

episode, the genetic cntic will see the actual construction of such density through exact

cornparison and therefore be able to describe this technique more precisely. Indeed,

Atwood reshapes the opening of her novel so as to include al1 the narrative's major

strands, such as Rennie's illness, her persona1 isolation, as well as the disintegration of

her relationship with Me. Looking at the evolution of this thematic density underlines

its objective existence and provides a better understanding of the deliberate construction

of such literary phenomena.

Another crucial narrative technique in Bodilv Ham is the novel's structural

complexity, which gains significant profile through the macrogenetic analysis of the

novel. Atwood's switching between different narrative situations-Remie's flight to the

Caribbean, the events which lead to her escape, and episodes from her childhood in

small-town Ontario-creates a complex pattern. The rationale for the intricate

interspersing of narrative episodes becomes much clearer through this analysis.

Atwood's rearranging of narrative episodes allows the genetic critic to see an evolving pattern which brings Rennie's illness to the forefront.

Finally, through genetic analysis, one of the most vexing questions for many liteyary cntics-how are we to read the novel's ending?-receives a new, substantiated answer. The genetic critic is direct witness to Atwood's construction of ambiguity. The holograph draft's evidence testifies to Aâwood's revision of Rennie's escape episodes fiom a simple and factual present tense to an ambiguous hture tense, which throws

Rennie's "rescue" into question. Thus, we see Atwood's choice of constructing ambiguity as intentional. This study encourages genetic critics to apply their tools to the remainder of

Atwood's œuvre. Atwood's work fiequently demands enquky into narrative gaps and

complex stnictures, as weli as ambiguous endings or the significance of characters'

names. Genetic criticism benefits the literary cntic who can gain additional insights into crucial narrative moments, such as the narrator's dive for rock paintings in Surfacinp, during which she experiences hallucinatory visions. How do these mystical elements of the unnameable in Surfacine, take shape in Atwood's draft? Reading Atwood's drafts again uncovers hidden layers which, in this instance, repeat Atwood's Farniliar pattern of covering her tracks. The reworking of this key moment of Surfacine, reduces explicitness and eliminates elements so as to produce narrative gaps (for an example, see 2 1.5.20r,

20v and 27.) Exploring the construction of such narrative gaps will significantly contribute to a deeper understanding of the novel as well as of Atwood's literary technique.

The genetic critic could also investigate the development of the complex narrative structures of The Robber Bride or Alias Grace. How do these narrative patterns evoive and how do different narrative structures produce different meaning? Genetic criticism also offers a tool to investigators of the evolution of characters' narnes, perhaps in Ladv

Oracle, as well as those studying narrative closure in such ambiguous endings as that of

The Hancimaid's Tale. While Atwood refers to the lines of descent in her œuvre fiom one work to the next,' the genetic critic will include the lines of descent of the individual

1 In an interview with Mary Moms, Atwood gives an example for such a line of descent: "in my second collection of poems, The Animals in That Country, there's a poem called ccProgressiveinsanities of a Pioneer." That led into the whole collection calied Journals of Susama Moodie, and that in tum led into Surfacinq" (77). work so as to retrace the web of creative influences. The genetic critic will therefore significantly broaden the understanding of the Atwood canon. Indeed, this methodology cm significantly broaden the depth of our understanding of al1 key texts of Canadian literature. Literary cntics should find this extension of the arsenal of their tools a welcome and necessary contribution.

Applying genetic criticism to Margaret Atwood's early novels The Edible Woman and Bodilv Ham both illuminates Atwood's creative technique and provides significant new insights into the novels' structures and ideas. The methodology's effectiveness in uncovering crucial elements of meaning can be observed and analysed in both instances.

Revealing the underlying techniques used in creating the novels-The Edible Woman's subtraction of matenal as opposed to Bodily Hm's synthesis of material-shows the range of literary techniques used by Atwood and her increasing self-confidence in her craft as a writer. Through the analysis of hidden or discarded layers of text, the methodology also serves as a tool to discount some more intuitive literary assessments of her work. Genetic criticism thus generates an onginai and significant contribution to the burgeoning field of Atwood criticism as well as serving as a mode1 for the exploration of

Canadian literature in general. Appendices Appendix f : Chronology for The Edible Woman

1 Date 1 Writing 1 Other Activities and Events 1 L I Pre-1964 1 TV scriot: "THE INTERVIEWER (79.13.1-1 31 1 1 1 1963164 1 "Are You the Woman Who Washes?" (79.1 1.1-1 2) and other 1 working for market research company in 1 fragments;' first unpublished novel Ua in the Air so Blue ~oronto' winter 1963164~ fall 1964 / spring ex tremel y productive and creative period4 teaching at the University of British Columbia 1965 Oct-Nov 1964 First novel fragment called The Edible Woman' May 1965 - Aug 1965 composition of a complete drafi of The Edible Woman (EW)' Feb 1965 Canadian publisher McClelland &- Stewart (M&S) voices 1 1 interest in seeing the manuscript. ' 1 1

' dated on folder See Atwood papers box 16. See Atwood's outline of her CV (92.2.1). Atwood to Charles Pachter, 23 September 1964, "the schedule is such that 1 ihink 1'11 be able to get a fair amount of my own work done, too" (1 -60.1) and in a letter, dated 17 October 1964: 1 have been writing like absolute bloody hell. So much that 1 can't sit down to go over some of the old stuff, type it up etc., without immediately producing a new poem. It is getting to be a bore: how do I ium off! 1 shall have to make an effort of will & switch myself into prose (1 h0.2). Atwood to Pachter, "April sornething 1965," "Have been writing short stories at white heat" (1.61.2). Atwood to Pachter, 18 July 1965, "l'm working very hard; up to p. 180, typewritten, of novel; & taking summrr course in German." TS.aa (1 8.2.1-1 3); for dating, seé McCombs 1993, 1. Atwood to Mr. S. Totton, editor-in-chief at McClelland and Stewart, 25 October 1965, Atwood Papers, Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library, Toronto: "this version [of EW]was begun last May [ 1965) and finished in Augusi [ 19651" (92.1.1 ). 1%Y66 retumed to Harvard for Ph.D Oct 1965 finished novel: manuscript sent to M&s9 M&S considers publication of The Edible Woman "subject to revision, it would indeed be an interestinRpublishing project"10 first contact with Mrs. Laurie Lerew, Laurie Hill Ltd., Montreal rare books dealer, concerning sale of manuscripts' ' 1 Jan 1967 I l Ph.D. orak at Harvard 1 Sarine 1967 1 still no answer fiom M&s'~ 1 Governor General Award for Circle Game -- [ March 1967 1 Atwood requests an answer from M&s'~ 1 Toronto Star, centennial issue, feature article on ~twood'~ Atwood's cal1 to M&S is returned by Jack McClelland, head of the Company 15 1 Summer & Fall 1967 1 "renewed interest" in novel bv M&S" 1

------Totton to Atwood, 1 Febmary 1965 (1.47.4). See Atwood's CV (92.2.1). 9 Pachter to Atwood, "close to Hallowe'en (19651," "Glad to hear you finished your horrid novel. 1s SHRIEK! SHRIEK! the title?" (1.61.4); and McClelland & Stewart !O Atwood, 28 October 1965, fomi letter, Atwood Papers, acknowledges receipt of EW manusctipt (92.1.3). 'O M&S, letter to Atwood, 24 February 1966, Atwood Papers (91.1.8-9). " See correspondence with Laurie Hill Ltd., Montreal (92.2.4-6,25). l2 Atwood to Earl Topping, editor at Ryerson Press, March 6 [1965], Atwood Papers: "M&S has been sitting on the manuscript for over a year without responding" (92.1.14). l3Atwood to Miss J.A. Rankin, editor of trade books, McClelland & Stewart, 6 March [1967]. l4 Reguly 1967. l5 Atwood to Hope Leresche, her London agent, undated 119671, (95.6.1). Sep 1967 - teaching at Sir George Williams University in May 1968 Montreal Dec 1967 Manuscript of novel sent off to M&S Mar 1968 correspondence with M&S conceming re~ision'~ C t summer 1968 correspondence with M&S conceming "jacket copy"18 1 Publication of The Edible Woman by M&S

16 The sequence of events surrounding her misplaced rns. at M&S is recapitulated in Atwood to Leresche (95.6.1-5) as well as in her letter to Earle Toppings, 6 March [1967], (92.1.14). l7 Atwood to Pamela Fry, editor at M&S, 3 March 1968, Atwood Papers: "[Clara and Joe] have been denied in the new version any role as message-bearers, and thus remain comic characters. 1 feel this is more consistent with the tone of the book as a whole." (92.1.16). Also refers to revisions of chapters 20 and 2 1. Conceming chapter 27, Atwood refers to "Marian's new attitude towards Peter." " Atwood remains adamant about not giving away too iiiuch plot detail on the dust jacket copy (95.8.1-6). Appendk 2: TS.aa (13-Page Fragment): Box 18, Folder 2, Folios 1-13 (1964-65)

. . Folio Paper Watermark W riting Deosity of Folio's Verso - Size Writing 1 typescript 1 '/? spaced fl -2 no watermarks with blue ball-point revisions no watermarks II 1 '/? spaced "Forest Entomology 1 IV. Forestry / V II. Insect Antennae" 25 cm 1 Basidon I 1 II 1!4 spaced blank

Howard Smith / Victoq Bond ' Howard Smith / Victorv Bond Basidon / II 1 !h spaced b b Light Weight Basidon / Light Weight Basidon / II I l/t spaced LL Light Weight 33 lines on f8cm = 1 1.8 lineskm 25 cm heavy, yellow ing holograph in 49 fines on 24.5cm filled with notes in paper, no water blue ball- 1 = 1 pencil point 2.0 lineskm 25 cm Basidon 1 II 52 lines on 24.5cm .6 Light Weight -

Basidon 1 II Light Weight 25cm l II 25 cm Basidon / Light Weight Appendix 3: MS.A (Fht Full Dra#): Box 18, Folders 5-18

Chapter Revised Box. type Cbapter Folder . Commenta of sequeneet Folio book- let2 title page 18.5.1 double sheet enclosing the first booklet labelled: sheet 1 "PART 1 / Se~tember:The Lone Weekend" 18.5.2-14 1 titled "The Edible Woman" 18.5.2 18.5.15-29 2" booklet, f27 = inserted sheet A 18.6.1-12 A 18.6.13-16 f17- 19 are cut out; the back of the booklet, f20v, B contains inserts for the front of the booklet, f13. 18.7.1-17 fl3- 1 5 are inserted from previous folder's 2" booklet A (M's interview with Duncan); f16- 17 other inserted I ieaves I I 18.8.1-1 1 A 18.8.13-26 f25-26 inserted leaves A drawing: f20v small sketch of M's bed room, indicating location of door, window, bed and position of two dolls ch 9 ch 10 18.10a.l-10 A ch 11 [a] ch 11 [a] 18.1 Oa. 13-17 outside cover missing, only consists of ruled paper B core; this first version ends with big circIed "NO" in the margins ch 11 [bj 1 8.10a. 19-2 1 starts in a new booklet with same blue pen as A 1 1 previous version; switch to black pen indicates 1 1 1 1 second version 1 1 tch 12 18.10b.l-12 ( A ch 13 18. lob. 13-2 1 no outside cover; f19 + 20 = inserted Ieaves B ch 14 18.1 t .l-8 no outside cover; f7-8 = inserted leaves B ch 15 18.1 1.9-18 2" booklet, cover sheet tom off A ch 16 18.12.1-8 B ch 17 18.12.9-18 2" booklet. cover tom off A

ch 19 1 18.13.13-22 1 2ndbooklet. cover tom off IIA 1 ch 20 18.14.1-10 1" booklet, cover tom off A ch 21 18.14.11-20 booklet let A

------' In their original form, chapters 22 and 23 were too long, so Atwood decided to break them into smaller units by insexting chapter breaks into the manuscript of MS.A. 'Type A has a cover page, identimg the university, and ten dedleaves. The sheets of paper are stapled together forming the booklet. Type B consists of a blank cover page and only six ruled leaves stapled together. Atwood uses seventeen type A booklets, thhteen type B booklets and assorted loose sheets. booklet without cover, f9-1 Or = blank, fl Ov = inserts for fI; a chapter break is inserted in red ink on f8. This inserted chapter break caused al1 following chapters to be renumbered cover of the bookiet folded back, so that the booklet's second page cornes first; fi 8 and 22-26 = blank, drawings:- f9v: an extremely slim, female figure with curly hair and made-up eyes, lies on her back with a three-pronged fork sticking in her stomach; fl3v: sketch of Peter's apartment; fl6v: tall slirn woman in a tight dress and done up, curiy hair and three other women, short and stout.

f'û = blank two type B booklets and two sheets inserted into another type B booklet Appendix 4: 1s.6 (Second Draft): Box 18, Folders 19-32

Cbapter Box. Folder. Atwood's pagination3 Comment: Folio l ch 1 18.19.1-13 1 - 10 fl = title page "The Edible Woman / Margaret Atwood": f2 section title "ONE: THE LONG WEEKEND"; f3 = first page of ch 1 text = revised version of f4

The pagination of TS.B is complemented with a revised pagination to conform with that in TS.H, the last draft. The exact place of the page breaks of TS.H are indicated in the margins of TS.B. Appendix 5: TS.B* (Second Drafi, Carbon Copy): Box 19, Folders 1-14

Cbapter Box. Folder. Atwood's Folio pagination ch 1 19.1.1 -12 1 - 12 ch 2 19.2.1 -10 11 -20 ch 3 19.2.1 1-22 21 -32 Appendix 6: TS.F (Fragment): Box 19, Folden 30 - 37

- Box. Atwood's Pagination: Comments: Chapter Foider- MS = manuscript fl = folio #1 Folio TS = typescript ch 1 19.30.1-11 1-10,llA carbon copy; top copy = cleaned-up version of 1 9.1 6 see notes, revised next as ch 1 in 19.24 some holograph changes sequence continues in 19.40 -- - M on her way to do marketing interviews; listens to ad jingles from a pay phone after sex in the bathtub -- on the way to the hotel bar; M prepares dimer; P's views on A; A already in the bar with Len

fl (145)' TS, f2 (145) MS, f3 (146) MS, f4 (1461 TS. f5 (147) TS fl0- 12 without ~aeination ch 23 19.37.1 - 10 1-6 (MS), iii-iv (TS), f9- new chapter with M and P ; entirely 10 (MS)no p. #s written in hoioera~h Appendix 7: TS.G ("rejected typescript'l): Box 19, Folders 24 - 29

- --- Atwood's Chapter Box. Folder. Pagination Content: Folio w = white typing paper y = yellowing paper 1-8 "1 know I was alright . . . ." revision ctd in 19.39 "the humidity was worse inside" 17-22, derived fiom revision of after lunch at the office; P 18.2 1.6-7; here: M. iistens to cancels dinner; M arranges advenisingjingle while at the office, dinner with Clara instead previously the draft had her listen to it when setting out for her interviews - -- 23 + 29 fragment f3 (39, f4 (no #) holograph insert in pend, f5 (36?33), f6 (37, 34), fi (38,35), f8 (39,36), f9 (40,37) fl0 (64), fl 1 (65) Ms' intenor monologue in P's bathtub fl-4 (1 92-1 95) w, f5 (196[a]) y, supermarket and dimer party; f6 (196[b]) w, f7-9 (197-199[a]) w, conversation redrafted; ends fs ( 1Wb]) Y, fP (200[al) y, with M and D in the snow of fl 0 (200[bl) w, fl1 (20 1[ally, Queen's Park (fl4) f12 (20 1[b]) w, f13 (202) w, f14 (226) w 227,23 1 at the hairdresser; fl-2 = white DaDer, 12c~i; white paper

f4 = holograph insert for f5 party: reducing descriptions of office virgins and Joe & Clara [ch 27 // ch 291

[ch 301 ch 29 // [ch 3 11 Appendix 8: TS.H (the Last Drafi): Box 19, Folders 39 - 48

Chapter Box. Folder. Atwood's Paper Comments: Folios Pagination w = f% = folio nurnber, (#) = Atwood's white pagination ch 1 19.39.1-8 1 -8 clean copy of 19.24 ch 2 19.39.9- 16 9 - 16

19.40.12-19 32 - 39 19.40.20 no pagination the folio's only text reads: "no p. 40"

19.42.4-6 95 - 97 w 19.42.7 no pagination f7 insert for f6 19.42.8-1O 98 - 100 w 1 title p 1 19.42.1 title page "TWO ZWWMBER I

19.44.13 1 f13 insert for f3 2 l ch 17 19.44.14-17 164 - 167 fi7 and fl8(167) 19.44.18 167 w 19.44.19-20 168 - 169 1 £20 and fZl(169) inserted chapter

no pagination w 1 2 fragments taped onto a 1 yellowing paper W

title p 19.48.34 no pagination title page for section "THREE" ch 31 19.48.34-39 297C - 302 f35 (297C) Appendix 9: Stemma of al1 Drafts of The Edible Woman This chart arranges individual drafis vertically (the first drafi and its chapters can be found in the first column, the second drafi in the second column). Reading this chart horimntally reveals the connections among the drafis. (For example the second row follows chapter 1 frorn the first draft, MS.A through TS.F, the last occurrence of chapter 1 before it is dropped in TS.G, where it is replaced with the renurnbered version of what used to be chapter 2.) Of particular interest is the relationship among the last three drafis, TS.F, TS.G, and TS.H. Individual passages from TS.F and TS.G (the version which Clark Blaise read) are pulled and "re-used" in the last draft, TS.H. These "re-cycled passages can be recognised by the quality of the paper, indicated in this chart with the sign -.

First Dralt Gondpp New MS Fragment Fragments Fragments Last Draft folder.box.folio Draft version - = read by Clark chapter chapter (= submitted Blaise pagination MS-A to M&S) w = white paper TS.G TS.H TS.B TS.F 18.19.1-13 -19.30.1-1 1 ch 1 ch 1; pp. 1-10, 11A 18.20.1-10 19.20. 11-15 19.17.1-5 -19.31.1-12 19.24.1-8 ch 1 19.39.1-8 ch 2 ch 2; notes fragments ch 2; pp. 1 1-22 ch 1, pp. 1-8 1-8 1 9.25.1-8 ch 2 19.39.9-16 ch 2, pp. 9- 16 9-16 1 19.26.1-6 ch 3 19.39.1 7-22 ch 3. 17-22 17-22

ch 3; notes ch 3, pp. 23-35, w ch 4, 23 + 29 23-3 1 3 3 -19.33.1-5 19.27.3-9 1 ch 5 19.40.12-19 ch 4; pp. 36-40, w 35 132)-48 3 7 ~ 19.40.20 "no p. 40"

1 ch 5; pp. 4 1-43, w TS. B TS.F TS.G TS. H

no pagination -19.4 1.30-37 85-91.w

- 19.42.4-6 95 - 97, w 19.42.7, ins W/Opagination -19.42.8-10 98 - 100. w TS. E TS*H

18.10a.13-17 -19.18.1-5; ch Il; ch 11 [a] Il bk ch 12 pp. 1 14-1 18; w 18.10a.19-21 ch 11 [b]//bkch 12

19.44.13, insrt -re spelling ch 17 19.44.14-17 164 - 167 - 19.44.18 167. w TS. B

18.28.1-10 ch 19

19.37.1-1O; ch 23, f 1-6 (hg), fl-8 (ts), tP- 1 O (hg) i

[chapter break inserted on 18.15.8, which causes al1 corisecutive chapters to be renumbered] 18.15.8-17+ 18.15.19- 2 1 ch Xbtd. 23 // bk ch 25

18.14.1-8 ch £3 24 // bk ch 26 [revision inserts chapter break on 1 8.16.81 MS.A

' In MS.A, chapter four, is written in a different kind of booklet, one witliout the usual University of British Columbia cover, and the following chapter is renumbered from "4" to "5" on its cover. Eitlier this chapter was started as chapter four, but theii replaced by the chapter four in 18.13- 20 of the first draft, or the chapter was only accidentally nunibered as four so tliat Atwood's cliaiigiiig it to five simply corrected a iiiistake. Appendix f O: MSA, Bodilv Hann, Box 33, Folder 1

Bound Notebook, box33, folderl

Narrative Episode

fl-3 1 N 1 excised from notebook 1 f4 N title-page "The Robber Bridegroom / May 2 1, 1980 1 10:22 pm." f5-8 N Police in Rennie's (R) apartment 4 fB- l O 1 N 1 Barbados 1

fll-13 N Jake (J) and R at dinner before the operation f13 N on the airplane to St. Antoine (no Dr. Minnow) f14-17 N getting off the plane and immigration at St. Antoine; taxi to Sunset Inn fl8-2 1 N day of the routine gynaecological check-up; R's journalism on false trends;

fL2-28 1 N 1 dinner at the Sunset Inn; other diner: Bun Sirnpkins from Nonh Dakota (later 1 revised into Paul); offers to take her to the vulcano f29-32 N waking up after the operation f32-36 N Sunset Inn: R going to bed f'34 1 tuming the break-in into a story for a luricheon-date f35 N thinking about the rope f3 6 N section break considered: "# ii)" fl6-38 N "The first time 1 saw you (said Laura) was on that glass bottom boat"; Laura [sic] admits to gun smuggling; her boyfriend, Brother (later called Prince) f3 9-44 1 L's childhood; living- in cellars; her abusive step-father f45 1 N 1 L wonders who R really is; passage belongs to the end of f36-38 Section Break: "*#* il" f46 1 sex next door during her first night at the Sunset Inn f47 1 N 1 breakfast f48-49 N exploring the town f50-5 5 N the glas bottomed boat; shift in narrative point of view: L's perspective on R f56-63 1 1 1 R and L at The Driftwood: R resents Laura's envy of her; flashback to Toronto: 1 ( police afler they discover R's mastectomy; anecdote about professor using his 1 1 disability to corner female students; Lyslife: suicide attempt and work in a night club and on smugglers' boats f64-66 N R takes taxi fiom the bar back to hotel; Dr. Minnow's written invitation to see 1 1 the Botanical Gardens; R's desire to have someone with her in bed; flashback: conversation with Jake about quiet companionship f67-68 N falling in love with J, because it was appropriate; his packaging her; day and night-time repackaging -f69-76 1 Rennie growing up with old people: her grandparents and the absent father R buvs three ~ostcardsat the hotel desk: waitress talks about the vulcano R in hotel room: the metmaid lamp; writing the postcards R crying in Daniel's (D) ofiice; his motivational lecture

R's sightseeing- - of local church; thinking- about vacation in Mexico with J conversation in prison: L wants R to do an article on her Iife as a stripper prison ctd.: while R and L are only discussing men; L says that men would be discussing how to get out Dr Minnow (M) takes her to the market instead of the Botanical Gardens; campaign of political parties; at Chinese restaurant, M lectures R on political responsibilities and warns her about Burt in prison: R about D, meaning of his name; cliché of falling in love with your doctor; L's negative eqeriences with doctors; L's criteria for sleeping with men R's curiosity to explore things as a chiId; iuncheon with Jocasta R on D: he never went through changes with Burt, visit to vulcano and refugee camp; prematurely-born baby; D about having a baby; R and Burt in his jeep; R mentions Minnow's calling Burt a salesman; B becomes angry; wearing his sunglasses he kisses R // the faceless stranger R waking op in her hotel bed with a fright; she thinks there is a stranger in bed with her; the mosquito coi1 glows like a single red eye When B had dropped her off he had made no further advances; R finds nothing sexual about him; R sleeping and waking; breakfast Englishwoman tells R that sorneone is waiting for her at the reception desk Dr. Minnow accompanied by another man has tea with R in the hotel lounge, an attempt on his life has been made; R says there is nothing to write about because nothing happened L arrives at hotel, she wants to go shopping with R; R in tears

(apparently in prison) R about D to L; lying in darkness; day-dreaming about D; D's daughter is dying of cystic fibrosis; D refuses to have sex with R; inserted fols. 1 14, 1 16, 1 1 8, 120 are revised versions of the notebook pages fl 1 5, 1 7, 19, and 2 1 L suggests they go shopping; encounter with political speeches on the market; R feels obliged to listen; L mocks Ellis; a man threatens her L and R in small restaurant, Lucinda's; about smuggling; threatening man from the market leaves upon overhearing L's stories of painfiil menstruation reminiscing about early women's movement; finding conversations about bodily fiinctions li berating D requires Jake's presence as counter-balance; seeing his unconditional trust in her makes her feelings towards him become ambiguous end of R and L at Lucinda's rewritten version of (fl32): R packing at the Sunset Inn to go to Ste. Agathe, while L waits in the hotel lounge: Englishwoman takes down Christmas decoration Bun at the hotel: Englishwoman on step ladder, R preparing to go Ste. Agathe; one of the joints is missing from R's room; Burt wants her to leave the islands irnmediateiy; they quarrel, R remembers fightinp, with J fl33 1 the Englishwoman on a step ladder; her legs on Laura's eye level l fl39-142 1 L and R waiting to board the boat to Ste. Agathe; Burt arrives in a grey suit ignoring the women; R finds him "creepy as hell" fl43 N on the boat fl44-154 1 contemplating a gender reversal for a day; Ste. Agathe cornes into view; to The Crab Tree for a drink; L is off to look for a room for R; R remembers failed sex with J after the operation fl55 N blank fl56-164 1 R at The Crab Tree; Minnow in the bar warning her of Burt; L takes R to her 1 1 1 own place near the noisy power plant; victory parade with Brother; L's concem 1 for her missing son Luke; R goes to sleep fl65 N blank fl66-168 1 R's dream about Daniel climbing through her window with a knife; R waking up; L talking to a stranger in cowboy boots; L tells R to go back to sleep F f169 N blank fl70- 174 I inner monologue (in prison) about R's piece on pornography fl75- 179 1 L in high school; rebellious in class fl79-184 I L's experience as a stripper; making money, but boy friend wants her to give it

MS.A Bodilv Hann: lnsert Sheets Stapled into the Notebook (50x33, folderl) Nos. Folios of Paper Narrative Content Fols. -- tom out of bound notebook, 1 turning the break-in into a ~toryfor a luncheon- ragged left-hand margin, date blue ruling letterhead stationary without L's childhood; living in cellars, abusive step- ruling, the verso reads "Box father 1401, Alliston, ON, LOM 1~0"' Alliston stationary with L at The Driftwood: R resents L's envy of her; anecdote of predatory art-history professor Alliston stationary R growing up with old people: her grandparents and the absent father from bound notebook; f8 1- R's sightseeing of local church; reminiscing 82 still hanging together as a 1 about vacation in Mexico with Jake doub le-sheet; tear marks ~YP~WPaPer L wants R to do an article on her life as a stripper; conversation takes place in prison! typing paper in prison; Lyscomment on how men would be discussing how to get out tom fiom a spiral notebook, luncheon with Jocasta

1 Atwood lived in Alliston while writing Bodilv Ham. 3 holes, red line indicating left margin spiral notebook R's relationshipwith Daniel (D): spiral notebook rewriting of f15, 17, 19, and 2 1 - -- - - spiral notebook in the bound notebook spiral notebook verso: form letter, Atwood wminiscing about early women's movement is no longer able to read finding conversations about bodily fünctions unsolicited mss. liberatin~ typing paper: verso contains D requires Jake's presence as a counter-balance: fragments of long poem seeing D's trust in her makes R's feelings towards him become ambiguous -- - -- spiral notebook R getting her things frorn the Sunset Inn, while L waits in the hotel lounge -- typing paper fragment the Englishwornan on a step ladder, her legs on L's eye level -- - spiral notebook L and R waiting to board the boat to Ste. Agathe; Burt arrives ignoring the wornen; R finds him creew -- --- spiral notebook contemplating a universal gender reversa1 for a day; Ste. Agathe cornes into view; to The Crab Tree for a drink; L off to look for a room for R; R remembers failed sex with Jake after the operat ion spiral notebook R at The Crab Tree; Dr. Minnow in the bar warning her of Burt; L takes R to her own place; noisy power plant; victory parade with Brother; L's concern for missing son Luke; R goes to sleep typing paper Dream about D clirnbing through her window with a knife; R waking up; L talking to a stranger in cowboy boots; R had better go back to sleep inner monologue (in prison) about R's piece on pomography letterhead stationarv L in high school; rebellious in class L's experience as a stripper; making money, but total nurnber 43 of folios Appendix fl: TS.8, Bodilir Harm, Box 33, Folders 2-3

Box . 1 Atwood's 1 Physieal Description 1 Content: Folder Pagination hg = holograph Folio p. = page l 1 cpi = characten per inch 1 This first typescript is written on DOMTAR BELL-FAST BOND / 50% catton paper 1 12 cpi title-p.: THE ROBBER BFUDEGROOM / Margaret Atwood epigram: Grimm's Fairv Tales, "The Robber Bridegroom" section 1

O'Connor. Reaney, Bogan, Grimm stopover on Barbados; cal1 for R's fliizht I R and Jake (J) at dinner before the O eration f16: 12cpi fragment on the airplane to St. Antoine bR'snew: conversation Dr. Minnow with Keith, 12 cpi fragment the travel editor 12 cpi R on the airplane continued 66 day of the gynaecological check up; piece on drain chain jewellery; fake trends f27: 12 cpi fragment; getting off the plane; f29 middle section cut immigration on St. Antoine; out taxi ride to hotel 12 cpi waking up after the operation

12 cpi R's room at the Sunset Inn; the break-in as a luncheon story 1 fols 1-2: no p., f3 fl+2: half-letter sized R at Sunset Inn: the rope; the pp.; hg (!) on thin airmail faceless stranger; R packs it paper stapled to f3; f3: 4 up in a jiw bag [sends it to lines in 12 cpi J?] didn't canceI her radiologist appointment; going to bed For reasons of space, only the novel's section 1 material is annotated for content. 33.3.4 [title-p.] title page for section "II" 33.3.5-9 *6*,29A - 29E f?3: only 3 lines typed, some hg additions in 2 stages; [al1 in 12 c~iup to f34] 33.3.10-13 30-3 3 fl0: several false starts 33.3.14-18 33-36 f14: hg insert for fl5; fl4v: prose poem, fl6: hg insert for f17; f18: only 2 lines, end of section 33.3.19-23 f19 (37) - f2 1 (39), f22 (4 f23: only 2 lines of text; revision takes out the 39A), f23 (398) quotation marks 33.3 -24-27 40-43 f26: 2 fragments stapled on; t27: fragment 33.3.28-34 44-49 f29: hg ins for f28 (p.44); f33 : ca. 1 8 lines of text 1 1 1 cut out the p.; p. stapled to another; 04: end of section only 4 lines 33.3.35-37 50-52 10 cpi; different typeface! 33.3.37-38 no p. f38: hg, inserted p., verso with poetry 33.3.39 no p. hg, inserted p., verso with yoetry 33.3.40 no p. hg, inserted p., verso with poetry 33.3.4 1-45 f4 1 (53), f42 (no p.), f43 f4 1-43: hg, inserted pp., versos with poetry (no p.), f44 (54), f45 (55) 3 3.3.46-50 56-60 f48: 10 cpi changes to 12 cpi after 3 lines; ctd in 12 CD~ 33.3.5 1-53 6 1-63 10 cpi 33.3.54-56 63-66 10 cpi

Various Fragments: Narrative Episodes (Box 33 Folder 4)

Folios Pagination Physical Description Content # = indicates section break; novel uses bullet sign 10 cpi; fl : paper fragment, 1/3 of a p.; epigrams: Neruda, Seltzer, f2: epigram in the middle is cut out; 0: Rourke, Drummond, '/? a p. stapled ont0 2/3s of a p. Algarin, Alculin, Peruvian proverb epigrarn Berger section 1 epigram Bell section iI . epigram Dinessen section III title-p. 12 cpi ROPE QUARTET / Margaret Ahivood 12 cpi, hg, hg; fl2- 13: spiral book epigrams: T.S. Eliot, Berger, Dinesen, Grimm, -- Rourke, Seltzer title-p. ts section 1: "30pp." 4 12 cpi; many hg inserts police in R's apartment spiral book, hg stopover in Barbados; checking her face in the bathroom mirror spiral book, hg stopover in Barbados; Canadian blow-dryer hg on typing paper, "corrasable bond/ R didn't want to have the ~archrnenttexture --- hg on typing paper childhood memory hearing about a corpse; dead but not molested

- hg, spiral book J's leaving empty containers behind - - hg, spiral book R is from Sriswold hg, spiral book, ctd. From previous p, Griswold thinks of fol. 21 everything as coming in threes 12 cpi; numerous revisions, past tense to Dr. Minnow on the Dresent tense glane no p#, ins f24: stapled to the next, top-half is travel editor consenting to 12' 16 missing, 12 cpi with numerous hg her trip revisions: f25: hg on to ins 12* 17 half-p. 12 cpi stapled on another p. Dr. Minnow on refugees & govemment corruption 12 cpi travel editor; # ; Dr. M. 14* 19, ins t28: 12 cpi, top 2/3s of a p. stapled ont0 Dr. M ctd, invitation to 19 another: f29: he. s~iralbook the Botanical Gardens ------f30 (34 f30: hg, spiral book, cut apart and then R never lived alone; "after 19'7, stapled together again; f3 1 : hg on 4 paranoia; break-in as a f30-33 (no strips stapled on spiral book p; f32: 2 hg luncheon story; faceless pagination) spiral book fragments stapled on another stranger; use of the rope; spiral book p.; f33: 2 12 cpi fragments token for murder mystery stapled ont0 spiral book p.. Rame lower part p. fragment in 12 cpi R's dinner at the Sunset - Inn; other person dining upper part p., 15-line 12 cpi fragment R is late for dinner, stapled ont0 another p. waiting at the front desk For reasons of space, ody the novel's section 1material is annotated for content. 33.4.36 t it le-page title-page for section "II" 33.4.37 38 28AA ha. s~iralbook 33.4.38 28AAA hg, spiral book 33.4.39 36 32 hg, spiral book 33 A.40 34 1/2 p. fiom spiral book stapled on typing paper

33.4.4 1 _ 56 1 1-line, top half in 12 cpi stapled ont0 another p, bottom half: hg insert 33.4.42-43 35, 36 f42-43: hg, spiral book 33.4.44-45 48-A - 48-B f44: hg, stapled on spiral book f45: hg, spiral book 33.4.46 38-E 48-F hg, spiral book 33.4.47 38B 48-C hg, spiral book 33 A.48 388 48-E hg, spiral book 33.4.49 38€ 48-D hg, spiral book 33 A50 54 12 cpi 33.4.5 1 55 12 cpi 33 A.52 ins 42 hg and 5-line 12 cpi ts 33.4.53 88 678 22 X 42- top 2/3s, 16 lines in 12 cpi, spiral-book paragraph in hg 44A 1 stapled on 33.4.54 216 1 hg, spiral book, bottom has 8-line ts in 12 cpi stapled on 33.4.55 70 83 82 1 12-line ts in 12 cpi stapled on spiral book paper 33 A.56 93 1 hg. soirai book - 33.4.57 84 ' hg, spiral book 33.4.58 84A 1 O-line ts in 12 cpi stapled on spiral book 33.4.59 no p. hg, spiral book 3 3.4.60 67 80-A 12 cpi 33.4.6 1 rclrrrr 72 44-B spiral book p to which are stapled 5-iine hg, 12-line ts in 12 cpi, and 9-line hg, 33.4.62 K&C U 44-C hg, spiral book 33.4.63 rclrrr U 44-D hg, spiral book 33 A.64 87 hg, spiral book 33 .4.65 88 hg, spiral book D. 3 3 -4.66 no hn - -- 33 A.67 no p. hg 33 A.68 no p. hg 33 A.69 116 2/3s of a typing paper p., different, larger typeface. 33.4.70 117 2 1/3 p. fragments stapled together, 12 cpi 33.4.7 1 119 2 ts fragment in 12 cpi stapled on typing paper 33 -4.72 121 12 cpi 33 -4.73 120 12 cpi 33.4.74 124 2 1/3 p. fragments in 12 cpi stapled together

1-76 1 ins 48.. 48A*, no p. 1 hg, spiral book, 12 cpi ts on typing paper stapled to the 1 1 1 1 spiral book, 3-line fragment, attached to the back 1 1 33.4.77 14 1 typing paper, hg and a 6-iine ts in 10 cpi stapled on 1 33.4.78 5 1 hg, typing paper 33.4.79 6 1 hg stapled ont0 typing paper, 8-line ts in 10 cpi stapled 1 1 ont0 to, and hg 1 33.4.80 no p. 1 hg, spiral book 1 Appendix 72: TS.C, Bodilv Harm, Box 33, Folden 6-7

This folder and the next (box 33, folder 6-7) constitute a clean photocopy of the draft contained in 34.1. l ff.

Box Atwood's Physical Description Content Folder Pagination cpi = characters per inch Folio * = indicates hg = holograph cancelled tf = typeface pagination P = Page title-p., revised in pencil lBodi IV Harm l section title epigrams Berger, Dinesen, and Grimm 12 cpi This is how I got here, said Rennie: 1 1 waiked back to my

police in R's apartment # There were two hours in Barbados original's 2 passages are ( I ) R looking at souvenir stand; stapled ont0 another p.; (2) Jake's joke about planes staples' outlines show this to be a photocopy; original in 34.1.15 (p.8) 12-line fragment in the St. Antoine's planes, fourth-hand original stapled to another from other countries; camera strap P. cuts into her shoulder original of passage after R at first refused to get a fake section break in 43.1.18 breast; Daniel, who at that point was still Dr. Luoma, saw things: either/or. Multi~lechoice # The day before the operation: J & R at dinner first 17 lines of original in imaginary earlobe collection 34.1.18 12 cpi Jake's presents: lingerie before section break: sex with J: R fakes it # On the original in 34.1.2 1; afier plane they served warm ginger ale section break: bottom part of 34. t .29 accents in "Soufrière" and Dr M.: "You are fiom Canada"; "Minôt" are inserted in hg stating it rather than asking. Dr. M. about government corruption and refugees 13 orig. 34.1.20 ctd. original of passage after early waming device, R thinks Dr. section break in 34.1.25 M an amusing local character; Material # day of the gynecologist check-up, R's ioumalism insert p. 15 larger type face, 10 cpi Jocasta's real name: Joanne 15 12 cpi parts in 34.1.26 New Wave sleaze put-on of real jewellery; nouveau wavé photocopied p. in hg, tom R's illusion about investigative out of a spiral book joumalism 12 cpi R's upbringing in rootbound New Brunswick, expert on surfaces Star editors' list: "lass: Who Has It. Who Doesn't" R finds them embarrassing, their 1 eagemess, their desperation ib 19 1 gynecologist's routine, everything ceased to be funny; dying would be a trend # When she got off the plane: heat In the queue; woman wearing a fake-fur shortie coat 2 1 6 6 immigration officer 22 66 taxi to hotel; tmly no longer 1 1 home; music # When R floated up through the anaesthetic 23 6 6 D at her hospital bedside 24 1 L 6 1 falling in love with D Jake's visit in the hospital, nurse's cornments; # R's hotel room hotelroom: the mermaid lam~ the glowing end of mosquito coi1 R thinking about the rope R mails remainder of rope to Jake; no longer trusting surfaces; brushing her teeth: still tastes the airplane sandwich; end of section I For reasons of space, only the novel's section 1materiai is annotated for content. 33.6.36 no p # title-page for part "II9' 33.6.37 *76* 30 12 cpi; L and R in prison! 33.6.38 '77'31 original of this photocopy has two fragments stapled on a p.; 12 cpi 33.6.39 *78* '79" '77-78' 32-34 10 cpi 33.6.40 35 original to this photocopy has IWO fragments stapled to a p.: 12 cpi 33.6.41 36 12 cpi

33.6.46 41 original of this photocopy consists of a fragment . stapled to another p., 12 cpi 33.6.47 42 original of this photocopy: two passages stapled ont0 p., the middle written in hg, 12 cpi 33.6.48 43 12 cpi

33.6.50 *45* 44A original of this photocopy is a 1 2-line fragment stapled on a p. 33.6.51 45 original of this photocopy is a 14-line fragment stapled on a p. 33.6.52 46 12 cpi

33.6.55 49 66 33.6.56 50 24 lines, original was stapled to another p. 33.6.57 51 23 lines, original was stapled to another p. 33.6.58 52 12 cpi

1 33.6.61 1 *26* 53A 1 photocopy of a larger tf, 10 cpi, some hg 1 revisions 33.6.62 53B photocopy of a larger tf, 10 cpi, some hg revisions 33.6.63 53C photocopy of a Iarger tf, 10 cpi, some hg revisions

33.6.66 53F IO cpi 33.6.67 53G 10 cpi 33.6.68 54 12 cpi

1 33.6.76 1 62 1 original of this photocopy is a half-p. stapled to 1 another p., 1 1 lines 12 cpi 33.6.77 *30* *63* 62A 12 cpi 33.6.78 *64* 62B LL 33.6.79 *65* 62C LL 33.6.80 $66' 62D LL 33.6.81 $67" 62E LL 33.6.82 *35* *34A* *68* 62F 66 33.6.83 62G no previous pagination on this p., half-p. 12 cpi ts stapled to another p. 33.6.84 63 12 cpi 33.6.85 64

33.7.1 1 74 10 cpi 33.7.12 75 10 cpi 33.7.13 1 no p# 1 title-page for part "III" 133.7.14 1 *A?* *74* 76 1 p# revision are almost illegible because of the 1 1 1 photocopy, 12 cpi; "When 1 was growing up, said 1 1 1 Laura. we iived in cellars" 33.7.15 *B* *75* 77 12 cpi 33.7.16 *C* $74' 78 CL 33.7.17 *D* 79 66

66 33.7.19 *F* *79* 79~-- 33.7.20 *67* 80 CL 33.7.21 *68* 81 LL 33.7.22 '69" 82 12 cpi and lots of hg 33.7.23 $70' 83 12 cpi

33.7.25 $72' 85 66 33.7.26 *73* 86 Lb 33.7.27 86A bigger tf 10 cpi 33.7.28 86AA 1 O cpi 33.7.29 76AA 12 cpi tf 33.7.30 77 12 cpi 33.7.48 99A 12 cpi ctd. 33.7.49 99B b 6

33.7.52 99E larger tf again, 1 O cpi 33.7.53 99F IOcpi 1 srnaIIet tf, 12 cpi I

33.7.64 110 larger tf 1 O cpi 33.7.65 111 IOcpi 33.7.66 112 66

Appendjx f3: TS.D, Bodilv Ham, Box 34, Folder 9-1 6

Description Box Page cpi = characters per inch Content Folder Nos. P. / PP- = page@) 7 = paragraph Folio d = typeface = * 1O-cpi passages are fiom a indicates later stage than the ones in 12 cancelled cpi pagination - - no Pg # title-page ROPE QUARTET (ts) / BODILY HARM (hg) 1 Margaret Atwood section title-page photocopy of this p. is fond in 33.6., 12 cpi; 33.6 represents an earlier stage, this folio contains revisions after the photocopy was made. not in previous draft, 10 cpi R's jig saw puzzle tf = later laver

12 cpi passage is in previous drafi, Prince of Peace T-shirt; R 33.6.20, however. not as a mistakes political theme for a photocopy of üiis p. and not religious one; woman in shortie as long as here, 12 cpi fur coat 12 cpi R packs sunbreak wardrobe # missing appointment with the radiologist 12 cpi R couldn't bear not knowing; didn't want to know # 10 cpi: retyped passage officer like an adult who's just said I told puso to a rash child 10 cpi: retyped police ctd.; "1 want you to believe me," 1 said.; Miss Wilson, in the bedroom . . .. 10 cpi stopover in Barbados; shift fiom Dast to mesent tense -- - 3 fragments stapled on: (1) Sunbreak wardrobe; past tense and (2) in 10 c~i;(3) in 12 revised to present tense cpi; part of original from which this photocopy was made = 33.6.8; original wass further revised after copy was made 3 fragments, the 3rdcovers joke about airplanes covered some hg text to be over; past tense revised to eliminated; al1 12 cpi; present tense ~hotoco~vin 33.6.9 photocopy of onginal in shifi of tense fiom past to 33.6.10, further hg present; R climbing up the revisions; revisions at the stairs of the airplane *++ bottorn made after copying, now covered over with a piece of paper stapled on (21, top part is stapled on (1) 1O cpi; (2) last 2- R afraid to look dom; afraid of paragraph fiagment in 12 cpi leakage; Eithedor; multiple is stapled on and revised in choice # hg, photocopy of this fragment in 33.6.11 : 2 fiagments in 12 cpi are counting of R's disasters (in stapled on, a photocopy of threes) is introduced here Fragment (1) is retained in through a holograph revision 33.6.1 1, the text after the section break down to the bottom of the p.; fragment (2) is contained in 33.6.12, about 2/3s of that p. is sta~ledon here - . .. - -. . (1) 19 lines in 10 cpi (2) 4- rotting away fiom the inside; line 12 cpi fragment, good chance she'd wake up photocopy survives at the minus a breast; expanding on bottom of 33.6.13. Jake and his stories '/ 33.6.13; 12 cpi Jake buying R lingerie; JAtwood's typing] 12 cpi, upper 1/3 of p. is J and R having sex: vow she'd rtapled to a blank p. made once: never to fake it # foollowed by section break rign // top of 33.6.14 10 cvi R is fiom Griswold, Ontario. 10 cpi In Griswold everything cornes in threes; waiting for 3rdthing # 2 fiagments in 12 c~i, the day of R's routine - ...... stapled to a blank p., appointment at the photocopy of complete p. in gynecologist's, J and false 33.6.18 and 33.6.20 trends photocopy in 33.6.19, here expanding on Jocasta extended with a full p. of hg additions; 12 cpi I/ 33.6.20 after 4 lines and J's drain chain jewellery excluding the last (, a fiagment stapled on hg on ts paper new: R became a quick expert on surfaces upside down: 12 cpi ts stapled to spiral piece on drain-chain jewellery; book p., I/ 33.6.24,2" d and thinking about the title . . . the remainder of the P. "Ready to have babies vet?" 2 12 cpi fragments stapled % an hour after that, everything to a blank p.; Atwood's ceased to be Funny; revising set remark to her typist, "Donya of titles for the life-style piece -3 Start New P. Here" on cancer # # On the plane demonstrates that next they serve{d) warm ginger ale; version is no longer typed by tense: past + present the author?; passage's unrevised photocopy in 3 3.6 14 R and Dr Minnow on the lane

he swallows an aspirin 10 cpi, typed by author, as Dr. M offers his assistance . . . revisions are made while "I'll be fine," she says # typing, passages x-ed out and lines inserted. 27 insert 10 cpi turning experience into a luncheon story; a first start on this page, now upside down has been crossed out: before J moved out R had never lived alone 10 cpi When J moved out, naturally there was a vacuum. 10 cpi R decided she was being silly and possibly neurotic as well. 10 cpi at the end of the rope, a faceless stranger # 12 cpi, 2-q fiajqnent stapled R climbs fiom the lane: the to a p., the unaltered immigration officer photocopy is in 33.6.25, the lower half of the p.. 10 cpi, rewriting the passage R's aspirin and tickets to police which was crossed out on bal1 are worked into the the previous p., passage here 12 cpi, original with chang fiom past tense to revisions to the photocopy in present tense; woman in fake- 33.6.26. fiir coat 12 cpi; fragment fiom the No banter with the immigration original to the photocopy officer; taxi drivers 33.6.27; the first 7 lines with revisions, are stapled to the p.; another fiagrnent in 10 c~iis sta~led on 2 12 cpi fragments, (1) 314 R feels tmly no longer at home; of a p. stapled to a blank p., music eme {flows) through original is the 8th line down her open doorway # from the photocopy in 33.6.27, and (2) Cline fragment, the original of the photocopy in 33.6.28 until the end of the section. 12 cpi, original of the lower R floated up through the 3/4 of the photocopy in anaesthetic 33.6.28 stapled here on a blank p. ------. - 12 cpi, photocopy in 33.6.23 R &er the operation taiking to removes quotation marks Daniel fiom direct speech 12 cpi, photocopy in 33.6.24 cliché of falling in love with a doctor; mastectomy pamphlets 12 cpi, upper 2/3 s of the eliminated quotation marks photocopy in 33.6.25, here fiom direct speech; Jake visits revised R in hospitai; nurse's comments # 10 cpi R iate for dimer; waits at front desk; meets yet unnarned Lora 12 cpi, upper 213s of the p. R éegitR (begins) to compose, is the photocopy of 33 -6.84 fiom habit 10 cpi R's piece on fast-food outlets; oniy other dîner cornes over 10 cpi no intention of picking this man up; would resist being done over; R approves of his T-shirt

2 10 csfragments stapled other diner's life story to a blank p. 12 cpi 9-line fragment R's room at the Sunset Inn stapled to spiral book folder p., the photocopy of this fiagrnent is the bottom quarter of 33.6.3 1. Revision here is tense 12 cpi, photocopy in 33.6.32. 2 12 cpi fragments, (1) the the darkness; the glowing end photocopy of which is in of the mosquito coil; brushing 33.6.33, first 12 lines and her teeth # (2) photocopy 33.6.35,last 6-lines of the p. 2 12 cpi fragments stapled past to present tense; waking to paper, photocopy of this up; something pressing down p. in 33.6.40. on her; rnosquito net; sex next door TS, crisp 10 cpi font what R did or didn't bother to cancel: plane is late: souvenirs 34.3.2 / 8 insert TS, thicker 10 cpi font, travel editor bonom half of p. stapled on, 1 both in the same tf 34.3.3 8 insert 6-line TS stapled on, ctd. # followed by Mine hg insert, 10 CD~ t-t crisp tf; 10 cpi R's gift of observation; drain- chain jewellery ; Jake home for "a lunchtirne quickie" 3 text passages stapled to 12 R's ability to defend her cpi: (1) thicker 10 cpi tf, (2) lifestyle journalism even + (3) arrainst a Marxist ~rofessors crisp 10 cpi tf grilled cheese sandwiches; at the gynaecologist 2 inserts on the same p., Dr. M about aboriginals' nose thicker 1Ocpi cups for liquid narcotics; British Fort George R is becoming imtated with him; Botanical Gardens, aspinn thicker 10 cpi tf bottom of the poster, printed in cravon THE PRINCE OF PEACE 34.3.10 33 crisp 10 cpi larger sign: THE BIONIC COCK;taxi drivers; "our blacks" 34.3.11 39insert thickerlocpitf Lysfriendly stare // hostess meeting in Holiday Inns. 1 crisp 10 cpi tf R late for dimer, begins to compose 34.3.13 144 1 !h a p. crisp 10 cpi tf stapled R isn't stupid, she knows to another p. there's an X factor. 34.3.14 44A 1 fragment ins crisp d R's room at the Sunset Inn; the stapled to p. lam~is a mermaid 34.3.15 45 crisp tf, full p. lamp; green lizard 34.3.16 46 crisp R turns down the bed; runs finners over her breast 1 crisp R can still taste the airplane sandwich: lovemaking noises Get it over, she thinks through the wall. / Oh olease. For reasons of space, only the novel's section 1 material is annotated for content. title-page for part "II" thick 10 cpi thick 10 coi ------12 cpi tf with very fresh ribbon; revsions done while typing, indicating that Atwood typed this text henelf small tf 12 cpi with very fiesh nbbon

small tf 12 cpi with very fiesh ribbon

small tf 12 cpi with very fiesh ribbon

small tf' 12 cpi with very fiesh ribbon

smail tf' 12 cpi with very fiesh ribbon

same tf as the previous, but paler nbbon, typed at a different tirne, a third of a p. stapled on (1 ) 10 cpi thicker tf, 1 7 (2) previous smail 12 cpi tf with fiesh nbbon 10 c~ithicker tf, ------12 cpi small tf, paler ribbon than previous passages ~oqqu~apd '!d3 01 €21 *a501 £ I 'S'K uoqqu ~apd'!d3 O 1 +3SOI L 221 2 1'STE uoqqv ~apd'!a3 0 1 ICI ltaSoI 1 1 'S*K uoqq~~apd '!d3 0 1 OZ1 *VSOI O 1'S'K %ywouoq prn? uoqqu ~apd'!da 0 1 vasu! VO 1 6'S'PC

I EL* 1

- !da z 1 69 *E9 +V6€ *8£ ZZ'P'P£ uo paldrns iuaw%y 31 !da z 1 89 *29 lt6E 1Z'P'PE ~i~373~ 1d3 O I ~9 OZ'P'PC 31 JaVW !d~0 1 99 6 1 *PT£ P =a'I?w !da 01 59 8 I 'P'PE *dail, 01 paldels ~uauxYq*d 34.6.1 91 insert 1O cpiz 34.6.2 91 10 cpi 34.6.3 92 12 cpi, 2 fragments stapled to the p. 34.6.4 47* 93 (1) 1O cpi (2) 12 cpi 34.6.5 94 1O cpi 34.6.6 95 10 cpi, bottom 3-line fragment in 12 cpi, sta~ledon

- -- 34.6.8 97 insert 10 cpi, 2 lines 34.6.9 70' 44* 97 12 cpi 34.6.1 O 98 insert 10 cpi 34.6.1 1 71" 48' 98 two 12 cpi passages 34.6.12 99 10 cpi - 34.6.13 1O0 10 cpi 34.6.14 42* 4SA* 101 2-7 fragment in 12 cpi stapled to another p. 34.6.15 46' 102 12 cpi 34.6.16 47* 103 12 cpi 34.6.16~ 3 inserts: 34.6.17 104 10 cpi fragment and hg 34.6.18 S3A* 5-line 12 cpi fragment stapled to a p. 34.6.19 1 104A I(1) 10cpi (2) 12 cpi 34.6.20 105 12 cpi; 1% lines cut out, remainder stapled on 34.6.2 1 105A 10 cpi 34.6.22 106 1O cpi 34.6.22~ 60 insert hg 3 word fragment 34.6.23 107 10 c~i

34.6.27 111 10 cpi 34.6.28 112 1O cpi 34.6.29 113 10 cpi 34.6.30 1 14 insert hg 34.6.3 1 114 10 cpi 34.6.32 115 10 cpi 34.6.33 116 10 cpi 34.6.34 117 10 c~i

Most of the typing must have been done by Atwood. Certainly, the 10 cpi typeface reveals revisions while typed which cm only have been done by the author herself. 34.7.1 insert 120 hg 34.7.2 57' 120 base p. tom from a spiral book folder: (1) hg fragment (2) 1O cpi 5-line fragment with many hg remarks (3) 5-Iine 12 cpi fragment 34.7.3 57" 121 12 cpi 34.7.4 58* 122 (1) 12 cpi (2) 12 cpi 34.7.5 59' 123 (1) hg and (2) 12 cpi 34.7.6 60* 124 1O c~i

34.7.10 62* 127 insert 1O cpi 34.7.1 1 62* 127 12 cpi 34.7.12 no p# title-p. 34.7.13 A* 74, 75* 76* 121" 12cpi - - - 34.7.14 B* 75* 77* 122* 129 12cpi 34.7.15 C* 76* 78* 123* 130 12cpi 34.7.16 D* 77* 79* 124* 131 12cpi 34.7.17 E* 78* 79A* 125* 132 12 cpi 34.7.18 F* 79* 79B* 126* 133 12 cpi 34.7.19 128 1O cpi 34.7.20 129 10 cpi 34.7.2 1 129A 10 CD~

134.7.23 1 130 1 10 cpi 1 34.7.24 130(A) 1O cpi 34.7.25 131 3 10 cpi Fragments 34.7.26 132 1O c~i 1 34.7.27 1 133 1 2 10-cpi fragments 1 34.7.28 133A 4-q, 10 cpi fragment stapled on 34.7.29 134 10 cpi, 4-Iine 12 cpi fiagrnent stapled on at the bottom of the p. l 34.8.1 135 10 c~i 1 34.8.2 1 136 1 10 cpi, 3-line fiagrnent in the middle 1 1 1 1 coverine other text 1 1 34.8.3 [ 137 1 10 cpi, large box 1 34.8.4 138 10 cpi 34.8.5 139 10 cpi 34.8.6 140 10 c~i

34.8.8 142 10 cpi 34.8.9 143 10 c~i 34.8.10 144 2-71 12 cpi fragment 34.8.1 i 90* 67DD* 71DDZ 53B* 12 cpi; fiesh ribbon, like 34.4.5-9 53E* 145 34.8.12 91" 67E* 71E* 53C* 12 cpi, fiesh nbbon 53F* 146 34.8.13 92* 90A* 91A* 67F* 12 cpi. fiesh nbbon 71FS 53DS 53G* 147 34.8.14 147" 148 insert 10 cpi 34.8.15 90A* 91 B* 67G* 71G* 12 cpi, fresh ribbon

34.8.17 1 151 10 cpi, 12-cpi fragment stapled on 34.8.18 1 152 1O CD~ 34.8.19 153 insert ( 1) hg, reddish brown ink 34.8.20 153 insert hg, reddish brown ink 34.8.2 1 153 1O cpi 1 34.8.22 1 154 1 10 coi and 6-line 12 c~ifragment

34.8.24 156 (1) 10 cpi and (2) 12 cpi 34.8.25 157 10 cpi 34.8.26 158 1O coi ppppp - 1 lots of reddish-broG and black ink holoeraoh revisions in folder 9

34.9.2 160 10 cpi 34.9.3 161 1O cpi 34.9.4 53A* 62A* 162-163- 164 10 cpi in lower part of the p., stapled to ruled paper tom fiom a spiral book folder 34.9.5 53BS 62B* 166' 167' 10 cpi 165 34.9.6 53C* 62C* 164* 166 10 cpi 34.9.7 53DS 62D* 168* 167 1O cpi 34.9.8 54" 53E* 62E2 166* 168 10 cpi 34.9.9 53F* 62F* 167' 169 1O cpi

34.9.10 , 53G* 62G* 168* 170 1O cpi 34.9.1 1 A* 182' 171 10 cpi 34.9.12 B* 183* 172 1O cpi 34.9.13 184* 173 insert ( 1) 10 cpi 34.9.14 184* 173 insert (1) hg in reddish brown ink 134.9.15 iC*184*173 I 10cpi

34.9.17 172' 175 10 cpi 34.9.18 176- 177 insert 10 cpi .- .- [ 34.9.19 1 173' 176-77 1 10 cpi I WOI I LOZ *96Z I *1*01*V€ I 1 !da Z1 (2) f!d3 01 (£1Pm (1) :SluaUMaS E OEZ *6EZ +V LZ'I 1'tE

!Q 21 S€Z*PZZ*V Z1'11.P€ !da z l KZ+EZZ lI*IIT£ !da z 1 EEZ *ZZZ OI.II-PC] !da z l Z£Z ~tIZZ 6' 1 1 'K !da z 1 1EZ +OZ2 8'1 I'PC !da z I OU +6IZ La1 1 'PE !d= z 1 622 *V812 *81Z 9' 1 1'PE uo pald~~ssiuaw8ey !d3-0 1 822 +81Z +ZIZ S' 1I 'PC auies av uo pad& am !d3 21 uaql pue !do O 1 9SZ +SPZ +f) tZEZ 6'E I TC .d vlqoi uo pan18 siuau%y rd3-0 I z SSZ +PPZ +LI 8'E 1TE !d3 12 U! (2) pur? $3 01 (E)pm (1) 'uo pqd~siua&eg PSZ *£PZ *El *OC1 LX 1OPE !da O I ESZ +zvz +a 9'~1-PE 10 cpi 10 cpi 1O cpi 1O cpi 10 cpi 10 cpi 10 cpi 10 cpi 3 10 cpi fragments stapled together 10 cpi 10 cpi 3/4 p. fiagment stapled on 10 cpi 10 cpi 1O cpi

10 cpi, 4/5 of a p. stapled on crisp and regular 10 cpi fragments stapled on 10 cpi fiagrnent stapled on 2 10 cpi fragments 10 CD~ 1 34.14.27 1 306 1 10 cpi 1

1 34.14.29 1 308 1 12 cpi on cream paper = ciean copy of 1 version to next folio 1 34.14.30 1 308 [sic] 10 c~i 34.14.3 1 309 12 cpi and 10 cpi Fragment stapled on

34.14.33 310 10 cpi

134.14.36 1312 1 10 cpi 1 34.14.37 313 10 cpi 34.14.38 313A 3- line hg on crearn paper 134.14.39 1314 1 10 cpi 1 34.14.40 314A hg on cream-coloured paper 34.14.41 315 1O cpi 34.14.42 3 16 12 cpi and hg additions on cream paper 34.14.43 317 12 cpi on cream-coloured paper 34.14.44 3 17A 10 cpi on white paper

134.14.45 1317B 1 12 cpi on white paper 1 34.14.4511 no p. # upside down title in hg 34.14.46 318 10 cpi; hg inserts lead to rewriting of this r 1 passage on previous folio, f45

------320 10 cpi A* 321 1 O cpi 1 insert 322 10 cpi B* 322 10 cpi C* 323 10 cpi 323A 12 cpi on cream-coloured paper 324" 329 10 cpi 325' 330 10 cpi 330A 10 cpi 33 1 insert hg 326' 331 10 cpi r- 34.15.13 327* 332 10 cpi 34.15.14 328* 333 10 CD~ 34.15.15 329' 334 2 lines 10 cpi, cnsp 10 cpi tf stapled on 34.15.16 366* 335 insert 10 cpi 34.15.17 330* 335 (1) 10 cpi and (2) 12 cpi stapled on 34.15.18 331'336 10 cpi 34.15.19 337 10 cpi 34.15.20 338 10 cpi 34.15.21 339 10 cpi 34.15.22 339* 340 10 cpi 34.15.23 341 10 cpi 34.15.24 342 10 cpi 34.15.25 343* 342A 1 O cpi *insert 355 343" 355" 343 10 cpi 343* 344* 356* 344 10 CD~staded on 1 34.15.28 1 345* 357* 345 1 10 cpi 1 [ 34.1 5.29 ( 346 insert 1 hg on crearn-coloured paper 1 34.15.30 B* 345A* 358* 346 10 cpi 34.15.31 358A* 346A 10 CD~ A 34.15.32 Bl* 346' 359" 347 10 cpi and long hg insert 34.15.33 C* 347* 369* 348 10 cpi 34.1 5.34 348 (A) 10 cpi 34.15.35 349 10 cpi 34.15.36 350 10 cpi 34.15.37 no p# title-page for part "V" 34.15.38 351 10 cpi; narrative explicitly retums to and repeats the opening fiame 34.15.39 352 insert 10 cpi; metai'ïctional reference about endings 34.15.40 352 1O cpi 34.15.41 insert 353 10 cpi fiagrnent stapled on 34.15.42 352 2 fragments stapled on 34.15.43 353A (1) and (3) 12 cpi, and (3) lOcpi fragment staded on

34.15.46 F* 362* 356 2 12 cpi fragments glued on 34.15.47 357 2 12 c~ihments

34.15.49 371* 350" 362* 359 2 10 cpi fragments 34.15.50 372' 364B* 363* 360 10 cpi 34.16.1 1 K* 367* 359* 361 1 12cpi

34.16.3 1361, 363 1 12 c~iwith a 10 coi strb staoled on 1 34.16.4 M* 13' 369" 361' 12 cpi 361* 364 34.16.5 O* 15" 373* 364* 365 12 c~i

34.16.7 367 1 2 10 cpi fragments 34.16.8 368 10 cpi 34.16.9 ~" 369 10 CD~

134.16.11 1371 1 10 cpi 1 34.16.12 372 1 12 cpi 34.16.13 373 10 cpi 34.16.14 374 10 CD~ 134.16.15 1375 [ 10 cpi 1 34.16.16 B* 376 12 cpi 34.16.17 C* 377 12 cpi 34.1 6.1 8 D insert* 378 insert 10 coi

34.16.22 381 12 cpi only 3 lines 34.16.23 382 10 CD~ 5 lines in 10 cpi with 16 lines of 12 cpi staded on 34.16.25 insert 384 hg on crearn-coloured paper 34.16.26 384 10 cpi 34.16.27 A* 385 12 cpi 34.16.28 B* 386 12 cpi 34.16.30 D* 388 12 cpi 34.16.31 E insert* 389 insert 12 cpi 34.16.32 ES 389 12 cpi 34.16.33 F* 390 12 cpi 34.16.34 Ginsert* 39linsert 12 cpi 34.16.35 G* 391 12 cpi 34.16.36 A* 392 12 cpi 34.16.37 B* 393 12 cpi 34.16.38 A* C* 394 12 cpi 34.16.39 395 10 cpi ! 34.16.40 D* 396 12 cpi 34.16.41 E* 397 12 cpi 34.16.42 398 1 line of 10 cpi with 12 cpi fragment stapled on 34.16.43 399 insert hg 34.16.44 A* 399 12 cpi 34.16.45 B* 400 12 CD~ 134.16.46 (C*401 ( 12 cpi 1 Appendix 14: TS.E, Bodilv Harm, Box 35, Folders 9-5

Box Page P hysical Content Foider Nos. Description Folio type face = tf p / pp*= page@) hg = holograph 7 = paragraph [ 35.1.1 1 nopg # title p. BODILY HARM 1 Margaret Atwood (1) and (3) in 12 cpi epigrarns: (1) Berger, (2) Rourke (3) with (2) in 10 cpi Dinessen. sta~ledon section 1. -- - 10 cpi crisp tf, cancellations covered {This is how I got here, says Rennie.} / It with self-adhesive was the day after Jake lefi. I I 1 paper, Le. not visible l 1 on photocopy

135.1.5 12 1 10 cpi cnsp ~olicein R's amrtrnent- 10 cpi crisp ctd. 4 stnps 10 cpi crkp (1) police guesses burglar was waiting for stapled on; (3a) strip her; (2) R wonders what for; the rope; (3) of a thick 10 cpi game they used to play; (3a) Miss Wilson, glued ont0 (3) in the bedroom, with a rope. (4) "He was iust waitine for vou" 5 2 Iines thicker tf, (1) Police open closet door, Jake's suits; 1 1 1 crisp tf stapled on (2) police trying to blarne R; her response 135.1.9 16 1 10 cpi crisp, "1 close the curtains," 1 said. . . . "1 want cancellation with you to believe me," 1 said. RQm-UrilçeR; self-adhesive stri~ # 10 cpi cnsp There's a two hour stoDover in Barbados b b R thinks about what's behind her {#} the assiment and the travel editor travel editor ctd.; single women in Barbados; airport restaurant 1'' 7 different iayer, (1) other solitaries might join her; at the thicker tf, 7 with crisp gate, plane is late; among the kiosk shops; tf is alued on (2) dolls, cigarette boxes and mirrors # Rennie is fiom Griswold # 1O cpi crisp; passage cancelled with a self- The night before the operation Jake took adhesive stri~of R out to dinner - I 1 paper 35.1.16 13 1O cpi crisp walking home 35.1.17 14 10 cpi crisp, adhesive R waiting for Jake to make love to her 1 1 1 stri~adds subclause 35.1.18 15 10 cpi cnsp Jake breaks down in tears, lovemaking; # 35.1.19 16 20-line fragment in By the time the flight is called, it's already 10 cpi crisp stapled dark on l -- - ioke about danes choices: about the operation, living or dying # day of appointment at gynecologist's; piece on drain-chain jewellery; Jocasta Jocasta ctd. R's powers for observing and predicting trends lunchtirne quickie with Jake eliminates quotation marks fiom doctor's speech; R considers piece on dying # 35.1.27 22* 25 10 cpi crisp, several On the plane they serve warm ginger ale; a lines covered with man beside her adhesive stri~ 35.1.28 23* 26 10cpicnsp conversation with Dr. M 35.1.29 24-24A* 2 fragments in cnsp (1) R is becoming imtated; (2) Dr. M 27-28 10 CD~sta~led on about the fort; the aspirin 35.1.30 25*29 10cpicrisp Dr. M offers statistics 35.1.31 26* 30 10 cpi cnsp origins of Dr. M's name; he warns her about travelling alone # 35.1.32 35* 3 1 10 cpi cnsp When Rennie floated up through the I I I anaesthetic 35.1.33 36*32 10cpicrisp Daniel 35.1.34 37' 33 10 cpi crisp, strips D's pamphlets cancelling text 35.1.35 34 3 strips glued on (1) (1) insensitive vocabulary of the and (3) in 10 cpi crisp pamphlet; (2) R's questions for D; (3) the and (2) in a slightly nurse's praise of D # thicker tf 35.1.36 35 19 lines 10 cpi cnsp Jake's visit at the hospital; bnngs glued on champagne and paté # 1355137 p*36 110cpi cnsp R climbs dom the steps of the plane; the heat; immigration on St. Antoine 35.1.38 3 l* 37 (1) 10 cpi cnsp, (2) (1) R buys tickets to dance; (2) believes 10 cpi thicker tf woman in queue is a religious rnaniac 35.1.39 36A* 38 2~tri~~~ta~ledon:(1) R's artificially fnendly behaviour (1) thicker 10 cpi; (2) 1 towards the woman; (2) the immigration 10 cpi cnsp officer 1O cpi crisp immigration ctd. b b political signs which R mistakes for religious ones (#) taxi dnver R on blacks #

10 cpi crisp with When Jake moved out, naturally there was strips of thicker tf a vacuum; sensing herself to be watched glued on 10 cpi crisp rope a message from the beyond bb rope ctd. # bC R's dimer at the Sunset Inn; blond woman comes walking out; yet unnamed Lora 66 (#) R composing in her head bb R's piece on fast food outlets; man in the dining room 2 strips glued on, (2) Paul fiom Iowa thicker 10 cpi 12 cpi ! Only the 1st with Paul in the dining room (1 ) boat 4 lines are continued insurance scams; (2) P. becomes more in 10 cpi on the sarne interesting: no gold earring, no wooden paper leg crisp tf stapled on Paul about Viet Nam cream paper (1) 10 cpi cnsp on (1) Paul claims his involvement was with white paper; (2) 12 rice; (2) R feels she's passed a test cpi on cream paper, both staded on 10 cpi crisp 1 R's room at the Sunset Inn I 6 b R runs fingers over the skin of her breast

-- b b R no longer trusts surfices; sounds of the night I love-making next door # For reasons of space, only the novel's section 1 material is annotated for content. 35.1.58 nop# title-page: section ''IIn 35.1.59 49-50' 55-56 10 cpi crisp 35.1.60 51' 57 b b dsy!ds 01 6L +ZL 98'1'SE uo pa~dqs Ji dsp3 !d3 01 JO 1uadeg au!l-E (2) ~l JaIInp V8L S8'1'SE uo paldejs 1uauOlay dsus 8L t78'1'SE uo pa]deisji dq.13 (E)pue (2) *duo ji iallnp LL E8'1'SE uo pajdeis dsus !d~O 1 u! sauy 12 9L *69 Z8'1'SE uad Ve19 aq u! (2)~ds?Ja u! (€1Pm (1) SL +89 18'1'SE 35.1.112 91* 103 CL 35.1.113 92* 104 CL 35.1.114 85 CL 35.1.115 93' 105 CL 35.1.116 94* 106 CL 35.1.117 95' 107 CL 35.1.118 96* 108 Cb 35.1.119 97' 109 CL 35.1.120 98' 110 (1) crisp tf and (2) 5 lines duller tf, both stapled io blank p. 35.1.121 98A* 111 2 fragments stapled on (1) crisp (2) du11 35.1.122 99* 112 3 cnsp tf' fragments stapled on 35.1.123 IOO* 113 2 cnsp tf fragments stapled on 35.1.124 101' 114 10 cri cris^ -- - 35.1.1% 102* 115 CC 35.1.126 103' 116 CC 35.1.127 95 cnsp and more spindly tf 35.1.128 104' 117 (1) crisp (2) duller -ment both stapled on - -- -- 35.1.129 118 19-line crisp fragment stapled to blank p. 35.1.130 105' 119 10 cpi crisp 35.1.131 120 duller tf 35.2.1 121 (-123) (1) du11 tf with crisp stapled on 35.2.2 107" 124 duller tf 35.2.3 108' 125 6 6 35.2.4 109" 126 LL 35.2.5 HO* 127 CC I 35.2.6 11 1* 128 LL L, , 35.2.7 112*129 crisp tf fragment stapled on 35.2.8 112A* 130 crisp tf stapled on 35.2.9 113' 131 cnsp tf 66 35.2.10 , 1 l4* 132 35.2.11 115* 133 SC bb 35.2.12 , 1 l6* 134 35.2.13 1 l7* 135 CL 35.2.14 118" 136 b 6

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Foldea 1-4: regular folders; the content of these folders is a photocopy of the versions in the blue binders. However, the original in the blue binder has been Merrevised, after the photocopies were made, i.e. not al1 holograph changes in the blue binders are documented in this version.

Box - A% Folder Page Content: Folio Nos. 36.1.1 title-page 36.1.2 epigrams: Berger, Rourke, Dinessen 36.1.3 no p. title-page: section 1. 36.1.4 1 This is how I got here, says R. .. . It was the day after Jake left. . . . 36.1.5 2 3 1 The older one laughed. The other one didn't. . . . The young one 1 looked uneasy. . . . humming to hirnself maybe, as if he lived there; as if he (was) an intimate. 4

36.1.9 6 There's a two-hour stopover in Barbados 36.1.10 7 on them, she hardly even feels guilty any more, one of these days it may be permanent. . . . How about this one? she said{, pointing} .. . Never heard of it, he said. . . . 36.1.11 8 36.1.12 1 9 1 R is fiom Griswold, Ontario.

13 By the time the flight is called it's already dark; the only white man in the group; al1 plane crashes can be explained by loss of faith ("P) Hefd have a job with this one, she thinks, . . . 16 During the moming of the day on which she had her routine, once- a-year appointment at the gynecologist's, . . . 18 Griswold, an early convert to Crimplene; she looked in order to copy; later on in order not to copy; hard-line feminists gave her a W {rough} tirne at parties; piece on drain-chain jewellery; spent some time thinkine: about the title 36.1.23 20 On the plane they serve warm ginger ale 36.1.28 25 When R floated up through the anaesthetic 36.1.3 1 28{- He follows up, said the nurse. A lot of them, they just do their ckiRg 29) {number) and that's that. . . . 36.1.32 30 R climbs down the steps of the plane . . . 36.1.33 R before immigration; R hears her say "You give me trouble, my grandson blaze you. ass good for you." 36.1.37 35 When Jake moved out, naturally there was a vacuum . . . 36.1.40 38 R is late for dinner. She has to wait at the front desk while they set a table for her in the dining-room. 36.1.44 42 conversation with Paul over dimer; boat owner piracy; Atwood making Paul more interesting; R's paying attention; no gold ear- ring, no wooden leg, still, there's something L 36.1.47 45 R's room at the Sunset Inn is papered with small floral print 36.1.50 no p. title-page: part "II" 36.1.51 48 One of the first things I cm remember, says R, is standing in my 1 1 grandrnother's bedroom. . . . 1 36.1.58 55 R wakes up finally at eight. She lies in bed listens to the music. .. . 36.1.61 58 There's a lounge where you can have aftemoon tea 36.1.64 61 R does what she does because she's good at it l 36.1.68 65 R takes her own camera, on the off chance. 36.1.70 76 R buvs some insect reoellentz already he's lost interest in her. # 1 36.2.1 1 68 1 ~em'ewalks to the Church of St. Antoine; the oldest one l&=] 1 1 1 the tourist brochure 1

- - 1 36.2.5 1I 72 1 Rennie walks back on the shadow side 1 1 36.2.8 1 75 1 It isn't just a market. Across fiom the cafe they've set up a small

I I Ll 1olatform: I 1 Which is just as well, considenng, the lunch. Remie has a grilled 1 cheese sandwich. byned, 36.2.14 81 Rennie takes her three postcards out of her ~urse ------l 1 p. 85 is missing 1 Rennie feels a darker shadow fa11 over her. "Hi there," says a flat 1 36*2*19 1 87 1 nasal voice, mildl~familiar 1 36.2.24 1 92 1 They're sitting under the metal umbrella at one of the round white 1 1 tables on the patio of the Drifcwood, I 1 p. 95 is missing I 36.2.27 96 "Sony?" says R. "You know, pay the fine or go dom on them." 36.2.29 98 L cornes back fiom the bar; something has happened, her face is no longer a dollface. Rennie goes into her room, locks the door, and sits down on the 136*2-36 Ilo5 1 edge of the bed. 1 36.2.41 1 110 1 It took her more time than it should have to realize that she was one 1 of the things Jake was packaging. 36.2.43 no p. title-page: section "III" 1 36.2.44 1 112 1 My father came home for Christmas, (says Rennie.) He always 1 spoke of it as coming home, 36.2.46 114 When 1 was growing up, says Lora, we lived in cellars. We lived in the cellars of apartment buildings; 36.2.51 119 R's dreaming, she knows it, she wants to wake up. She's standing in 1 her pdmother's garden, around at the side of the house, What do you dream about? Wlitch it pussycat, said Jake. Remember your place. {Last night) Rennie set her alarm for seven. She lies in bed, waiting for it to be seven. R sits up by the window, staring at her notebook, in which she's managed to write four words: It's noon. Rennie stands under the violent Sun, rubbing lotion on her face and wishing she had a hat. 1 Dr. Minnow is discoursing on the Carib Indians. "He's doing this openly?" says Rennie; Dr. M.: The Canadians (Cubans) are building a large airport, in Grenada. The C.I.A. is here, (they wish to nip history in the bud,} and the Russian agents. There's a small book and stationery shop across the Street fiom the

hoteI. and Remie Ygoes into it. Remie lies in bed and thinks about Daniel. Which is hopeless, but wasn't it dwavs? ------1 There's someone at the door. The room is dark. "Elva?" says Paul. "You just take it over to Ste. Agathe, there's a boat every day at w (noon.}; as soon as you take a picture of something it's a picture. Picturesque. This isn't. R has stopped, though Paul is pushing her, trying to keep her movinn The Driftwood at night is mucb the same as the Driftwood by day, except that it's floodlit. Rennie and Jocasta were trying on used fur coats R: He's reallv married. He thinks of himself as mamed; R wondered how cool J actually was; He wouldn't want to be stuck with the whole package After the chocolate cake they drive back, straight back, no stopping in the woods this time. Rennie unlocks the door of her room. The mermaid lam~is on. title-page: section uIV" late summer, after she'd corne out of the hospital, R meets Jocasta for lunch; Jocasta a little too surprised to hear fiom her; hands imagery reinforced; R's desire to be touched by Jocasta's hands If I codd do it over again I'd do it a different way, says Lora, God knows- Rennie's dreaming ~. She dreams she's in the kitchen making herself a peanut butter sandwich. There's a line between being asleep and being awake which Rennie is findinp, harder and harder to cross. Ste. Agathe emerges out of the blue hazy sky or sea, rishg slowly The Memory hits with a soft thud; there's a line of tractor tires nailed dong the dock to keep it fiom scraping. 36.3.47 199 There's a small dock in fiont of the Lime Tree 36.3.51 203 This is Rennie's third rum and lime. 36.3.54 206 As shefscorning back frorn the bar, çke Rennie sees the two German women Climbing he stone steps 36.3.57 209 Paul is standing in the kitchen doonvay, looking without hurry; 36.3.58 21 0 Remie and Daniel were sitting in Daniel's car, which was an unusual thing for them to be doing. 212 Why not both? said Rennie. That's the way 1 am, said Daniel. 21 8 They walked inland, uphill. Rennie tried to think of sornething

36.3.69 no p. title-page: section V" 36.3.70 221 Jake liked to pin her hands down, he liked to hold her so she 1 1 1 couldn't move. 36.3.76 227 1 ran into Paul in Miami, says Lora. 36.3.82 233 Rennie wakes up in the middle of the night and Paul is still there. she can hardlv believe it: 36.3.83 234 There's a noise fiom behind a clump of trees; Paul has gone for food; R looks into P's cIoset 36.4.1 235 In the bureau there are some T-shirts, neatly stacked .. . -. 36.4.4 238 Paul scrambles the eggs, quite weil, they're not too dry; 36.1.5 239 and she's going. She feels lazy and unhurried; outhouse on the beach '' {Ellis built it) 36.4.7 241 There's some music, coming along the beach, wooden flutes and a

1 36.4.10 1 244 1 Rennie is sitting- on a white chair in the beach bar of the Lime Tree. 1 36.4.12 1 246 1 "1 am disturbine vou?" It's a statement. with the force of a question. 36.4.15 249 Lora sits at a table, one leg crossed, ankle on her knee. 36.4.18 252 Rennie trudges up the road towards Paul's house; asphalt is so hot; I I I encounters school girls 254 Outside it's raining, heavy drops like tacks pattering on the tin roof; R stops kissing. {Massive involvement, she thinks.) He smiles at her, looking down at her with his too-blue eyes 256 Jake came over to pick up his suits and his {books and) pictures. 257 J's moving out; R sat with her hands clenched around the coffee cup as if it was hkgmw {a bare socket, live) electricity, and she couldn't move; {She thought of her grandmother, hands together like that, head bowed over the ioyless Xmas turkey, saying grace.) ) 258 The day after Jake was gone, for good, Rennie did not get up in the

1 36.4.26 1 260 1 After they make love Rennie wraps a towel around henelf and goes out to the kitchen. 36.4.29 263 From the refiigerator Paul takes two fish, one bright red, the other blue and green, with a beak like a parrot's. 36.4.30 264 [political reality modified:] "I'm just telling you what it looks like," 1 says Paul. ". . . Castro used tourists a lot, and now al1 kinds of 1 people are using them. {The C.1.A is using non-Amencans, a lot, it's a better cover. Locals and foreigners.) 272 Rennie hears it before she hem what it is. 273 Dr. Minnow is in a closed coffin in the livingroom. . . . Dr. 1 Mi~ow'swife had the place of honour beside the cofin; . . . not this open crying, raw desolation, this nakedness of the face. {It wasn't decent.) If you went on like that they gave you a pi11 . . . 276 [density of the poetic irnagery:] heart going, she doesn't understand. (Massive involvement. ) 277 They go by the back streets, Lora first, then Rennie. 280 The jeep is parked on the road in fiont of the house. 283 Marsdon and Paul negotiating R's fate: She listens trying to follow. She wishes somebody would change the channel. She feels like a 1 hostage, and, like a hostage, strangely uninvolved in her own fate. 1 Other people are deciding that for her. Would it be so bad if she stayed here? 284 "Did you hear it yourself?" . . . [the ending of this section, a climax in its own right, is significantly changed and revised in 36.81 287 "It's been cancelled," says the Englishwornan. . . . "Suspicion of what?" says Remie, who is still half asleep. "1 haven't done anything." {It can't be the box with the gun, they haven't mentioned no p. title-page: section "VI." 289 "There was a Iittle shooting at the police station," says Lora, 291 The room they're in is about five feet by seven feet, with a high

293 Rennie watches Lora's mouth open and close, studies the nicotine stains on her once perfect teeth, 295 "1 thought it w~;dumb," says Lora. "1 always thought it was dumb. 297 Lora's still talking. But Rennie can't concentrate, she's getting hungrier and hungrier. e windows above them gets brighter and brighter, now it's a

1 then the rice cornes. -- in the middle of the morning, at the usual time, the two guards corne anain. [no underlining yet] This is what will happen. Rennie will be taken to a small room, painted apple green When theytre finished, when Lora is no longer moving, they push open the grated door and heave her in. fire, water, air, and earth imagery: the hand is there in the sunlight, the rest of the body {is) in darkness, in water, the hand is in the air. [this is tf is continuous from the previous folio, whereas in the light- blue binder, pages have been replaced with a different tf; first sentence not underlined as in the next version] Then the plane will takr off. It will be a 707. R will sit halfway down the aisle. . . . In 5 hours she'll be at the airport. . . . . There's a man sitting beside her. Although there's an empty seat between them . . . {She notes these details the way she has always noted them. What she sees has not altered; only the way she sees it.) He asks how long she was down for. . . . {Where they had îhe trouble?) he says. . . . There's too much air conditioning, air fiom outer space blowing in through the nozzles, Rennie's cold. She crosses her amis, right thumb against the scar under her dress. It prods at her, a reminder, a silent voice counting, a countdown. She doesnlt have much time left, for anything. But it will have to do. There's no difference between her and anyone else: she's paying attention that's dl. She looks out the window of the plane, it's so bright, the sea is below and there are some islands, she doesn't know which ones. The shadow of the plane is down there, crossing over sea, now land, like a cloud, like magic. It's ordinary, but for a moment she can hardly believe she's here, up here, whatls holding them up? Itts a contradiction in terms, heavy metal hurtling through space; something that cannot be done. But if she thinks this way they will fall. You cm fly, she says to no one, and al1 at once she's back, flatland crisscrossed by roads, buildings foreshortened by the height, there's snow on the ground already, her shadow's on it, blue-grey, beneath her feet the earth rises to meet her. # Appendix 16: TS.G, Bodilv Harm, Box 36, Folder 56

Photocopy with few revisions sprinkled throughout.

The draft TS.G contains some of the sarne holograph additions as the previous draft TS.F. However, a noticeable difference consist of the way the draft indicates section breaks: in folder 2 (TSF) section breaks are indicated by a black dot, in folder 6 it's only a fading mark "m."

Box Folder 1 Nos. 1 Content 36.5.1 no p. title page 36.5.2 no p. epigrams, Berger, Rourke, and Dinessen 36.5.3 no p. title-page for section "1" 36.5.4 1 This is how 1 got here, says Rennie. It was the day after Jake left. 1 walked back to the house around five. ...3 36.5.9 6 Ihere's a two-hour stopover in Barbados . . . 36.5.12 9 Rennie is from Griswold 36.5.13 10 The night before the operation Jake took Remie out to dinner

36.5.16 1 3 By the tirne the flight is called it's aiready dark

a.. 36.5.21 16 During the moming of the day on which she had her routine

36.5.23 20 On the plane they serve wmginger ale . . . 36.5.28 25 When Rennie floated up through the anaesthetic she did not feel 36.5.3 1 28{- He follows up, said the nurse. 29) 36.5.32 30 Rennieclimbsdownthestepsofuieplaneandtheheatslipsover

36.5.37 1 35 1 When Jake :aoved out, naturally there was a vacuum. 1 I 36.5.40 38 Rennie is late for dinner

Since this draft differs only slightly fiom the printed novel, not every single folio is accounted for. Instead, the beginning of specific narrative episodes are located in the draft. The ellipses indicate a regular continuation of the narrative, without that matenal requiring any special documentation 36.5.47 45 Rennie's room at the Sunset Inn

m.. 36.5.50 no p. title page for part "II" 36.5.51 48 One of the first things 1 can remember

S.. 36.5.58 55 Remie wakes up finaiiy at eight. . . . 36.5.61 58 There's a lounge where you can have aflemoon tea . . . 1 36.5.64 61 Rennie does what she does because she's good at it I

S.. 36.5.68 65 Remie takes her camera, on the off chance.

..a 36.5.71 68 Rennie walks uphill, to the Church of St. Antoine ..- 36.5.75 72 Rennie walks back on the shadow side

.a. l 36.5.80 77 1 who never cornes outside his house. . . . {"Your page # suddenly skips") [which it doesn't] . . . 36.5.84 8 1 Remie takes her three postcards out of her purse: "St. Anthony by a local artist." . . . 36.5.90 87 Rennie feels a darker shadow fail over her. . . . 36.5.95 92 They're sitting under a metai umbrella at one of the round white tables on the patio at the Driftwood

. *. 36.5.108 105 Rennie goes into her room, locks the door, and sits down on the edge of the bed 1 36.5.1 15 1 no p. 1 title-page for section "III." 1 36.5.1 16 11 2 My father came home every Christmas

B.. 36.5.1 18 1 14 When 1 was growing up, says Lora, we lived in cellars. l

36.5.123 1 19 Rennie's dreaming, she knows it, she wants to wake up ... 36.5.125 12 1 What do you dream about? Rennie asked Jake, a month after

36.5.127 123 {Last night) Rennie set her alarm for seven. She lies in bed 36.5.133 129 Rennie sits by the window, staring at her notebook ... 36.5.141 1 3 7 Dr. Minnow is discoursing on the Carib Indians.

.S. 36.5.147 143 There's a small book and stationery shop across the Street . . .

36.5.15 1 147 Rennie lies in bed and thinks about Daniel t

S.. 36.5.154 150 At the beginning, when she still believed she could return to normal

m.. 36.5.1 56 152 There's someone knocking at the door

1 36.5.164 1 160 1 It's almost as if he's in a hurry to get away 1 end of folder 36.6.1 161 Rennie and Jocasta were trying on used fur coats in the Sally Ann

1 3 6.6.5 1 1 65 1 After the chocolate cake thev drive back 1

36.6.8 168 Rennie unlocks the door of her room; the mermaid lamp is on

36.6.11 no p. title-page for section "IV" 36.6.12 171 In the late summer, soon after she'd corne out of the hos~itai

36.6.18 177 If I could do it over again I'd do it a different way, says Lora

36.6.22 18 1 Rennie's dreaming about her grandmother again. She dreams she's in the kitchen 36.6.23 182 Now shels up near the ceiling, in the corner of a white room

- - 36.6.25 184 There's a line between being asbep and being awake

36.6.3 1 190 Ste. Agathe emerges out of the blue hazy sky

36.6.36 195 The Memory hits with a soft thud; there1sa line of tractor tires

- - 1 36.6.40 1 199 1 There's a small dock in front of the Lime Tree. and on it

1 36.6.44 1 203 1 This is Rennie's third rum and lime 1

36.6.47 206 As she's coming back fiom the bar, ske (Rennie) 36.6.50 209 Paul is standing in the kitchen doonvay l 36.6.5 1 2 10 Rennie and Daniel were sitting in Daniel's car, which was unusual l

36.6.54 2 13 Rennie lay on the bed, stiff as plaster

f 36.6.59 2 1 8 They walk inland uphill 1 36.6.62 1 no p. 1 title-page for section "Vn 1 36.6.63 221 Jakelikedtopinherhandsdown

36.6.69 227 I ran into Paul in Miami, says Lora

1 36.6.75 .1 233 1 Rennie wakes up in the middle of the night and Paul is still there I

2N4 36.6.82 24 1 There's music coming along the beach

I 36.6.85 244 Rennie is sitting on a white chair in the beach bar of the Lime Tree

36.6.87 246 "1 am disturbing you?" It's a statement, with the force of a question.

4 36.6.90 1 249 1 Lora sits at the table, one leg crossed

36.6.103 252 Rennie trudged up the road towards Paul's house,

36.6.107 256 Jake came over to pick up his suits and his pictures

36.6.1 11 260 After they make love Rennie wraps a towel around herself

36.6.114 263 From the refiigerator Paul takes two fish

1 36.6.1 18 1 267 1 Rennie fills the sink with hot water from the teakettle 1

1 36.6.120 1 269 1 After a while. Rennie hears the sound of chairs beine moved 1

36.6.123 272 Rennie hem it before she hears what it is.

1 36.6.124 1 273 1 Dr. Minnow is in a closed coffin 1

From the corrected page number, we can judge this photocopy to be made fiom the original in box 36, folder 8. 36.6.128 277 They go by the back streets

36.6.13 1 280 The jeep is parked on the road in front of the house

36.6.136 285 Remie walks dong the pier at St. Antoine

36.6.140 no p. title-page for section "VI" 36.6.141 289 "There was little shooting at the police station," says Lora 36.6.143 29 1 The room they're in is about five feet by seven feet,

36.6.145 293 Rennie watches Lora's mouth open and close

36.6.147 295 1 thought it was dumb, says Lora.

36.6.149 297 Lora is stiii talking. But Remie can't concentrate

36.6.15 1 299 ' The window above them gets brighter and bnghter

36.6.153 301 The ce11 heats up

1 36.6.1 57 305 They're eating, lunch, cold rice

1 36.6.16 1 309 Rennie can't remember what people are supposed to think about

.------36.6.163 3 1 1 It's another moming, time has a shape even here

36.6.166 3 14 It's night again. Someone is screarning 3 6.6.167 3 1 5 It's noon, Rennie can tell by the heat

1 36.6.170 3 18 In the middle of the morning, at the usuai time, . . .

36.6.173 32 1 This is what will happen [no underliningl

1 1 36.6.177 1 325 1 When they're finished, when Lora is no longer moving

36.6.179 327 The hand is there in the sunlight

1 36.6.18 1 1 329 1 Then the ~lanewill take off. 36.6.183 33 1 It will have to do. . . . She looks out the window of the plane, . . . itls something that cannot be done. But if she thinks that way they 1 1 . . . She's forgotten whose hand it is. Appendix 17: TS.H, Bodilv Harm, Box 36, Folder 7

Light-blue ACCOGRIP binder Label reads: "BODILY HARM / Margaret Atwood / Sections 1, II, III" Pages of the novel, i-iii, and pp. 1 - 170 This copy seems to be a working copy revised with the assistance of an editor; there are more revisions than in this box's previous folders. Changes are only selectively listed in my description below. First three pages are Atwood holograph revisions. Minutiae such as italics or not (for exarnple on pp. 53, 109, 163,207, 1 10, 168,Z12) occasional punctuation.

Box Page Content Folder Nos. [*text* between asterisks replaces the ient in cross-out mode in cases Folio where the latter is not visible in print, such as a crossed-out hyphen or comma. list of notes for revisions: p. 12 Wilson, Wike Wilford; 37 Wilford; 59 ? Italics; 76 query lives; 8 1 query Jake's - - no p. 1 10 italxs; 293 italics out; 278 add no p. 3$Cckaeis to be someone for whom the question is only incidental -1.. title-page of the novel 11 [Dedication] iii [epigrarns reduced to one, the other two are covered up with self- adhesive paper] title-page for section "1." This is how 1 got here [underlined]; M{m)arket [taking out quotation marks from dialogue with the police throughout the opening episode] [removing dl the quotation marks from dialogue with the police] shopping (basket}; jackt-*knife; the policeman's taunting: f Take a look) "

Barbados revision of picking the island with Keith the editor [holograph]

underlinhg R's internal speech for advice on bonng restaurant date

A molester is someone who-isht (inldecent, said h& grandrnother.T . . much help. {Rennie still used that word sometimes, for fun,

Since this draft differs only slightiy fiom the printed novel, not every single folio is accounted for. Instead, the beginning of specific narrative episodes are located in the draft. The ellipses indicate a regular continuation of the narrative, without that material requiring any special documentation where other people would use gross}.

16 [top half of the page is in crisp, the bottom half is in 12 cpi] (1) During the moming of the day on which she had her routine, once-a- year appointment; it was an embellishment Rennie had spotted on one of her fnends, Jocasta (2) who ran Ripped Off, a second-hand store on Peter Street; Good taste kills, said Jocasta; "Detective or Clue" 16-A R met Jocasta when she was doing a piece on the Queen Street Renaissance [only 1 paragraph, half a page]

18 &mphw {polyester knit}; feminists gave her a had (rough} time; She never shot high-gloss fashion{, she wasn't good enough.} 2 1 Mimow: "1 trained in &twa {Ontario}; [inserts:] {an airline magazine, barf-bag mags as they're known in the trade,}; {On the 707 to Barbados she had a thriller. . . . now she's bookless}

27 insert about Daniel: "(He wasn't even that handsome, . . . his arms were too long, he gangled.)" 28- [(l) on the base paper, (2) is glued on] (1) "He follows up. A lot of 29 them, they just do their thmg (nurnber}. . . . He says a lot of it has to 1 do with their attitude, you know?"; (2) Jake brought champagne . . . 1 a good dancer who hardly ever bothered to dance. # "

34 [last sentence of this section placed in brackets:] "The difference between thir and home isn't so much that she knows nobody as that nobody knows her. keF. In a way she's invisible. In a way she's safe.) # I .- . - 42 adds description of Paul's hands no p. 1 title-page for section "II"

- - 6 1 [on cream paper in 12 cpi] Instead of writing about the issues, she inser began interviewing the people who were involved in them. . . . It t wasn't even radical, it was only chic 61

77 who never eetaes (goes} outside his house. [holograph insert about R remembering Dr. M fiom the plane] [a photocopy whereas the rest of this folder are onginals.] How rnany times have you used that one? She said. . . . This was the first clue Rennie had that Daniel thought she was interesting

- [cuts last sentence of the section:] Paul "kisses her on the cheek . . . and walks away . . . a1'

title-page for section "III."

[lower half of this page is cut off; with Dr. M at the fort] "They have a high-power telescope in there," Dr. M tells her. "- They cm see everything that comes off the boat~.. . . "Idiots," says Dr. M.. "But then, I'm from Ste. Agathe. [end of page] "the British make a big mistake in the nineteenth century"; [Marsdon coming]; children in Marsdon's wake; another car parks in the front of the bakery; two men in it [end of page] R can see their uptumed faces, . . ."Now we have the whole family," says Dr. M. . . . He smiles and puts his hand on her arm. Tome," he says. "There is more to see." * # * [2 short paragraphs glued on] He steers her down some steps to a stone corridor; officer's quarters; insert about planned historical display and a gift shop

[with Dr. M. over lunch, p. inserted with 12 cpi:] Whatever Rennie's been expecting, it isn't this. . . . "What on earth would 1 write about?" 7 "What you see," says Dr. M.

"Al1 1 ask you to do is look. . . .

------ihert about magazine article "sexual makeovers"

[last page of the folder, ends with:] She re-folds her rnix 'n match wardrobe. . . . A warm body, she doesn't much care whose. # [end of folder] Bodilv Harm, Box 36, Folder 8

Light-blue ACCOGRIP binder Label reads: "BODILY HARM / Margaret Atwood / Sections IV, V, VI

Box Page Content Folder Nos. [*text* between asterisks replaces the ieni in cross-out mode in cases Folio where the latter is not visible in print, such as a crossed-out hyphen or comma. title-page for section "IV" [last paragraph:] She wanted to tell Jocasta she was dying. &rc

[L's stepfather trying to rape her, page ends with:] 1 phoned my mother the next day . . . . She wanted me to apologize for sticking the can oDener into him, but 1 wasntt sorrv. # 1 [crisp fragments glued on; structural change fiom the previous version, compare folder 6:] {There's a line between being asleep and being awake which R is finding harder and harder to cross.) Now she's up near the ceiling. . . . she wants to rejoin her body but she can't get dom.

1- 1- A1 She crawls through the grey folds of netting as if through a burrow, . . .

[changes in passage with Daniel; he cuts parts of other people's bodies off and pats dying patients on the shoulder rather than 1 holding their 'hands' :] " (he used the same hands for both ) "

title-page for section "V"

Since this draft differs only slightly fiom the printed novel, not every single folio is accounted for. Instead, the beginning of specific narrative episodes are located in the draft. The ellipses indicate a regular continuation of the narrative, without that material requiring any special documentation - - - -

[inserting motivation for R to snoop around Paul's house:] R feels she's prying . . . she just wants to know {she wants to find something that will make Paul real for her.)

- - [more "hands" inserted for R and Paul's love-making on St. Agathe:] Then he leads her into the bedroom. This time he takes off her clothes{, ne&y {not too quickly, without fumbling. She takes his hands with their blunt practicai fingers, guides him, they slide ont0 the bed, it's effortless.} . . . he's already thinking about something else. {She passes her hands over his body, learning him, the muscles, the hollows. . . . [Slhe can't reach him, right now he's not there.}

Dr. M.: The only votes Ellis is getting are the ones he buys. . . . 1 have witnesses. If they are not afiaid to corne forward. {He give out the roofing materials too, the sewage pipes, the things donated.) . . . "Why do you bother?"

Paul and R's last love-making inserts and cancels again the passage inserted on f68, p. 238 (36.8.68): Btttst$e It's raining; heavy drops. . . . But she doesn't know where [her ship is] going. {She passes her hands over his body, memonzing him, . . . but she can't reach him. He's not giving anything away.}

Jmore "hands" inserted when Jake leaves R

Paul negotiating with Marsdon over R's and Lysfate; inserting more of R's flippant language; not understanding the senousness of the situation: ([insert fiom the margin] She could hole up in the Lime Tree, cal1 herself a foreign correspondent, send out dispatches, whatever those are.} But maybe Paul just wants to leave moment of crisis when Marsdon is discovered to have lied: There's a pause. . . . Then everythng starts to move. {Oh God, thinks Rennie. Somebody change the channel.) #

R's arrest in her hotelroom revised; cuts Englishwoman's suspicion from the beginning; cuts passage of certainty about the identity of the faceless stranger; passage at the beginning of this page is covered over with self-adhesive paper title-page for section "M." ("}I thought it was durnb, ("1 says L. {"}I aiways thought it was dumb. Anyone who'd die for their country is a double turkey. oenoughof them . . . [fhgment glued on] R wonders where her passport is. She feels naked without it, . . . Lora slaps at herself. . . . There's lots worse things." {R decides not to think about what there may be)

u7. #.. "There was a little shooting at the police station," says L, "but not that much, . . . [fragment glued on] the people got the cuts and bruises from fallingn they were rwning away. The room they're in is about five feet by seven feet, . . .

"Yougot the time?" says L. . . .

[12 cpi:] They're scraping the bottom of the barrel. Re~iethinks of it as . . . L thinks of it as the stow of her life. . . . [12 cpi:] "No," says R. . . . Rennie knows what she's supposed to feel: first horror then sympathy. . . . she's dejected by her own failure to entertain. Lora has better stories. # R watches L's mouth open and close, studies the nicotine stains on wonceth,. . . "1 bet you could see out the window," says L, "if 1 gave you a leg un!' L's still talking. But R can't concentrate

"No, go on," says R. "It's really interesting." . . . Al1 she has io doneon;or later, something is bound to happen. # [crisp fragment glued on:] R is walking dong a street, a street with red-brick houses. the street she lives on. -- - -- the window above them gets brighter and brighter

[back to regulareagination]

[insert about the rescue:] Neither of them is saying anythmg . . . Maybe she will be rescued. {If she can only keep believing it,

- - [last 6 lines are glued on] (1) R can't remember what people are supposed to think about. . . . She wants to remember someone she's loved, she wants to remember loving someone. . . . A change,ace, hand through the sea at night, phosphorescence. { Of Paul, only the too-blue eyes remain. . . . R doesn't want to think. {about the noises behind her in the harbour, . . . She doesn't want to think of Paul as dead.) tha&k m&e-&& . . . Possibly he is the last person who will ever touch her. {The} last man. She switches to a yoga class she once went to with Jocasta. . . . Ankles. relax. Go with the flow. (2) She thinks about Daniel, Daniel eating his breakfast . . . holding the hand of a blonde woman whose breasts he [end of page] [4 fragments glued on:] (1) has recently cut off. Who wants to cure, who wants to help, . . . From here it's hard to believe that Daniel really exists: . . . a talisman she fingers, over and over, to keep herself sane. (2) a

M+H&H& Once she would have thought about her illness: her scar, . . . The main thing is that nothing has happened to her yet, (3) nobody has done anything to her, she is unarmed. She may be dying, true, but if so she's doing it slowly, {relatively speaking}. Other people are dying faster . . . R opens her eyes. Nothing in here has changed. . . . Pretend you're really here, she thinks. Now: what would vou do? #

[hair cutting in the court yard:] But ail he does is saw at the hair, . . . that's al1 he's doing. 9 Another man follows him . . . .He's at the thid {second) man now. . . . The man with the bayonet stuffs the handful of hair into the bag and wipes his hand on his shirt. {He's an addict, this is a hard drue. Soon he will need more. }

[italics underline the unreality of the rescue, more verbs are turned into future tense:] This is what will hamen. R will be taken to a small room, painted apple green. On the wall there will be a calendar with a picture of a sunset on it. There will be a desk with a phone and some papers on it. There se(will be) no windows. Behind the desk there is (will be) a policeman, an older man. . . . R sits down in the chair when the policeman tells her to. . . . R nods and srniles at him. Her heart is beating, she's beginning to think again 1Of course, she says.. . . 1 guess you're right, says R. She wants her passport back, she wants to get out. 1 sajrcte. hyway it's not my thing, she says. . . .

[4/5 hgment stapled on:] When they're finished, when L is no longer moving. . . . the heavy flesh of her thighs, {massive involvement). . . . They go away, doors close derthem. . . . One of [the light-bulbs] is burnt out. I should tell someone, thinks R. #

eke {R is in the} kitchen, making herself a peanut butter sandwich. [2 two-line fragments stapled on:] (1) The sunlight is coming in . . . it falls on the floor in squares, in one of the squares is L's left hand, (2) the dirty blunt fingers . . ., they did nothing to her hands, shining almost translucent in the heavy {light.) (3) The The rest of the body in darkness, in water, the hand is in the air. . . .

[dull tf !] Then the plane wili take off. It will be a 707. Re~ie will sit halfway down, it will not be full, at this time of year the trac is north south. She will be heading into winter. In #ive (seven} hours she'll be at the airport. . . . When she's finally there snow will be on the ground, she'll take a taxi, . . . they'll stop and she'll give the driver the correct arnount of money and she'll walk up the stairs . . . Wherever else she's going it will not be quietly under. She's drinking a ginger ale . . . It will always be there now. The ginger ale tastes the same as it used to, . fiozen with . . . . holes in them:"-+ [dull tf:] . . . There's a man sitting beside her. . . . He's standard, a professional of some sort [small crisp:] He asks how long she was down for. . . . She has no intention of telling the tmth, she knows when she will be believed. In any case she is a subversive. She was not once but now she is. {A reporter.} She will pick her tirne{; then she'll report. For the first time in her life she can't think of a title.) She says, she's doing a travel piece . . . sqs (Where they had the trouble? he says. He says he's been there and hw-kA {it doesn't have) a tennis court worth - t mentioning,. . . . . He asks her if she travels done much . . . it's- full of paper. [dull tf'J She looks out the window of the plane, it's so bright, the sea is below and there are some islands, she doesn't know which ones. The shadow of the plane is down there, crossing over sea. . . . what's holding them up? It's a contradiction in terms, heavy metal hurtling through space; {something that cannot be done.) But if she thinks this way they will fdl. You can flv, she says to no one, to herself. There's too much air conditioning, ak {wind) fiom outer space blowing in through the small nozzles, Rennie's cold. She crosses her arms, right thumb *?* against the scar under her dress. tempm&e The scar prods at her, a reminder, a silent voice counting, a countdown. Zero is waiting somewhere, whoever said there was life everlasting; so why feel grateful? She doesn't have much time lefi, for anything. But neither does anyone else. (She's paying attention, that's dl.) She will never be rescued. She has already been rescued. She is not exempt. Instead she's lucky, suddenly, finally, she's overflowing with luck, it's this luck holding her up. Works Consulted:

Primary Sources: Manuscript

Toronto: Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library. MS. Collection 200. Margaret Atwood

Papers.

Bodily Harm: boxes 33-39.

"Correspondence, Ca. 196 1- 1982": box 1.

"Correspondence, 1 965- 1985": box 92.

"Correspondence with Arnulf Conraadi": box 105, folder 4.

"Early Short Stories, 1959- l964/65": box 79.

"Early Short Stories, 1964-65; Material Relating to The Edible Woman; . . .":

box 95.

The Edible Woman: boxes 18- 19.

"Non Fiction: Articles, Book Reviews, Speeches, etc., 1968- 1986": box 90-9 1.

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