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57 pages 1 hour read

Margaret Atwood

The Handmaid's Tale

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1985

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Chapters 8-10Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapter 8 Summary: “Birth Day”

Eating her breakfast, Offred thinks, “Pleasure is an egg,” but speculates that “possibly this is how I am expected to react. If I have an egg, what more can I want?” (120). She hears a siren and sees the “red Birthmobile” (121) come to collect her. She sits in the back with three other Handmaids and learns that Ofwarren—“formerly that whiny bitch Janine” (125)—is due to give birth.

Offred wonders if Ofwarren will give birth to a baby or “an Unbaby, with a pinhead or a snout like a dog’s, or two bodies, or a hole in its heart or no arms, or webbed hands and feet” (122). She remembers Aunt Lydia discussing the “slippery slope” (123) of a declining birth rate that had various causes, including women choosing not to have children. Aunt Lydia condemns them as “lazy women” and “sluts” (123).

At Warren’s house, the Wives gather in the sitting room, “get[ting] a little drunk,” “cheering on this Commander’s Wife, the Wife of Warren,” and “massag[ing] her tiny belly, just as if she’s really about to give birth herself” (126). The Handmaids gather around Ofwarren, and Offred thinks that she could “almost like her” (126), considering, “[W]hat did she ever want but to lead her life as agreeably as possible? […] It’s possible that’s the catch” (127).

Offred remembers Aunt Lydia showing “old porno film[s]” at the Red Centre with women “kneeling, sucking penises or guns, women tied up or chained […] women being raped, beaten up, killed” (128). Aunt Lydia tells them, “Consider the alternatives […] You see what things used to be like?” (128).

On one occasion, she showed old footage of “Unwomen” on a feminist march demanding the “FREEDOM TO CHOOSE” (129), and Offred recognized her mother. She remembers Luke “teas[ing] her by pretending to be macho,” and her mother responding with a “grin” (131) before chastising Offred for not realizing how much the older generation of feminists sacrificed.

As the Handmaids chant to encourage Janine, they share names and information quietly among themselves. The Commander’s wife comes in and sits on a birthing stool “behind and above Janine, so that Janine is framed by her” (135). Janine has the baby, and it is passed to the Wife, who now lies in bed while the Handmaids “stand between Janine and the bed, so she won’t have to see” (136). Janine is “crying helplessly, burnt-out miserable tears” (137). Janine will be “allowed to nurse the baby, for a few months […] After that she’ll be transferred, to see if she can do it again” (137).

Offred is “too tired to go on with this story,” so she tells “a different story, a better one […] the story of what happened to Moira” (138), based on what she has heard and what she “can fill in” (139). Moira had asked to go the toilet and had used “the long thin pointed lever” (140) from inside the cistern to threaten Aunt Elizabeth and escape in the Aunt’s clothes, with “her cattle prod and her whistle” (141). Having escaped “Moira had power now,” and Offred thinks, “[W]e found this frightening,” but that “[n]evertheless, Moria was our fantasy” (143).

As ordered, Offred goes to the Commander’s office, even though it is “forbidden for us to be alone with the Commanders” because Handmaids “are for breeding purposes: we aren’t concubines, geisha girls, courtesans […] We are two-legged wombs, that’s all” (146).

The office is filled with books, “an oasis of the forbidden” (147). The commander invites her to sit down. He smiles in a way that “is not sinister or predatory,” and looking “embarrassed, sheepish was the word,” he asks her “to play a game of Scrabble” (148). Such is the illegality of the request, Offred feels “as if he’s offered me drugs” (149). Nevertheless, she plays two games, wins the first, and lets him win the second.

Afterward, the Commander thanks her for the game and says, “I want you to kiss me” (149). Offred thinks about stabbing him “suddenly, between his ribs” and “about the blood coming out of him, hot as soup, sexual, over my hands” before admitting that “[i]n fact, I don’t think about anything of the kind. I put it in only afterwards” (150). Instead, she kisses him, and he says, “Not like that […] As if you meant it” (150). Offred recalls that “[h]e was so sad” (150). 

Chapter 9 Summary: “Night”

Back in her room, Offred thinks that “something has changed, now, tonight” and considers, “I can ask for something. Possibly not much; but something” (153). Aunt Lydia presents men as “sex machines” who “only want one thing” (153), and Offred wonders “how to fit the Commander into this” (154). She concludes that “I need to take it seriously, this desire of his” (154).

Offred remembers a documentary about the Holocaust and an interview “with a woman who had been the mistress of a man who had supervised one of the camps where they put the Jews, before they killed them” (154). The man “had been cruel and brutal,” but the woman insisted that he “was not a monster” (155). Offred considers, “All this she would have believed, because otherwise how could she have kept on living?” (156).

Offred is suddenly desperate to laugh but knows that she must not. She “cram[s] both hands over my mouth […]” and crawls into the closet. After the laughter “passes, like an epileptic fit,” she “trace[s] the tiny scratched writing” on the closet floor, “as if it’s a code in Braille” (156). 

Chapter 10 Summary: “Soul Scrolls”

Offred wakes to a crash as Cora drops a breakfast tray in her room, fearing that Offred is dead, rather than asleep, as she is still lying in the closet. Offred explains that she was “just dizzy” (159) and may have fainted, quickly dismissing the idea that it is because she is pregnant.

Offred and the Commander “have an arrangement,” and she visits him “two or three nights a week” (162), going only when Nick secretly signals the Commander’s interest by wearing his cap at an angle. On the second visit, after playing Scrabble, the Commander gives her “a little present,” a women’s magazine, “once common enough” (164) but now outlawed and taboo. Offred “want[s] it with a force that [makes] the ends of my fingers ache” (164).

On the third night, Offred asks for some hand lotion and explains that Handmaids usually make do with butter. He laughs, and Offred “could have slapped him” (167). He offers to get her the hand lotion “as if indulging a child’s wish for bubble gum” (167).

When the Commander returns with it on the fourth night, Offred explains that she cannot keep it in her room because “someone would find it” (167), and he asks “Why? […] as if he really didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t” (167). She explains that Handmaids’ rooms are searched for “razor blades. Books, writing, black-market stuff […] Jesus Christ, you ought to know” (168). He does not “even wince” at her anger and says that she may keep the lotion in his study.

At the next Ceremony, “there [is] an awkwardness now that there [hasn’t] been before” (169). Just as Offred “would pretend not to be present, not in the flesh,” so, too, had the Commander performed in “[t]his state of absence” (169) during previous Ceremonies. Now the Commander is “no longer a thing to [Offred]” but a human being, and the Ceremony itself feels “indecorous, an embarrassing breach of propriety” (170). Offred’s hatred of Serena Joy is “no longer pure and simple” and is now mixed with both jealousy and guilt.

During the Ceremony, the Commander “move[s] his hand up as if to touch my face” (171). Offred shifts out of the way and later tells him not to do that again: “You could get me transferred […] To the Colonies […] Or worse” (171). He apologizes and explains that he finds the Ceremonies “[i]mpersonal” (171). She asks, “How long did it take you to find that out?” (171).

Offred acknowledges that she is “his mistress” and is “happier than I was before,” explaining that seeing him gives her “something to do, for one thing” and that “I don’t love the Commander or anything like it, but he’s of interest to me” (172). Likewise, “to him I’m no longer merely a usable body” (172).

While out walking, Offred and Ofglen realize that neither of them is actually “a true believer” (177), and Ofglen reveals that she is part of a secret underground movement (later revealed to be called Mayday) and invites Offred to join them. Offred feels “hope […] rising in me, like sap in a tree” (178). A “black van with a white-winged eye on the side” (178) pulls up, and a man is dragged inside. Offred feels “relief” that it “wasn’t me” (179).

Offred remembers Moira coming out as gay and “a time when we didn’t hug” until Moira reassured Offred that “I didn’t turn her on” (181). She also remembers the rise of Gilead, “the catastrophe, when they shot the President and machine-gunned the Congress” (183), blaming it “on the Islamic fanatics, at the time” (183). Soon there was censorship of the media, “the Pornomarts were shut,” and “roadblocks began to appear, Identipasses” (183).

Offred’s boss told her and her colleagues that “I have to let you go […] It’s the law, I have to” (185). At the same time, her bank account was frozen, and all her money was transferred to Luke. Moira told her that they froze “[a]ny account with an F on it instead of an M” (187).

Luke tried to console her, telling her “[i]t’s only a job” and “[y]ou know I’ll always take care of you” (188). She though that “already he’s starting to patronize me” and then, “already you’re starting to get paranoid” (188). Later, she realizes that “[h]e doesn’t mind this […] Maybe he even likes it. We are not each other’s, any more. Instead, I am his” (191-92).

There were marches protesting the new conditions until “the police, or the army, or whoever they were, would open fire almost as soon as any of the marches even started” (189). Offred did not attend the demonstrations because “Luke said it would be futile and I had to think about them, my family, him and her” (189).

Without a job, Offred “started doing more housework, more baking [and] tried not to cry at mealtimes” (189). Offred remembers her mother attending feminist protests when she was younger and chastising Offred for being prudish and conservative.

Offred sits comfortably in the Commander’s study, her body “lax, cosy [sic] even” while the Commander is “positively daddyish” in the way “he likes to think I’m being entertained; and I am, I am” (193). He has started allowing her to read his books while he sits and watches.

Offred asks him what Nolite te bastardes carborundorum means, and he explains that it is “just a joke” (196) that schoolboys used to make in pig Latin. It means “Don’t let the bastards grind you down” (197). He shows her the phrase written on an old schoolbook.

Seeing that, Offred realizes that the previous Handmaid must have been in the Commander’s study, too, and asks him about her. “[T]houghtfully, not sadly,” he explains that “she hanged herself” because “Serena found out” (197). 

Chapters 8-10 Analysis

The theme of complacency and complicity is central to this section of the novel. Often this takes the form of Offred being distracted and placated by small pleasures and rewards that make her life more bearable but also undermine her desire to rebel and resist. She acknowledges this directly when, having declared that “[p]leasure is an egg,” she wonders if this is precisely how she is “expected to react,” taking comfort in small mercies and concluding, “If I have an egg, what more can I want?” (120). This idea appears again when Offred decides that she could “almost like” (126) “that whiny bitch Janine” (125) because “what did she ever want but to lead her life as agreeably as possible?” (127). Insidiously, the idea that cooperating and complying is a reasonable course of action is becoming normal for Offred, and again she acknowledges that “[i]t’s possible that’s the catch” (127).

This issue becomes more pronounced once the Commander breaks protocol and asks her to play Scrabble with him and kiss him like she “[means] it” (150). She quickly concludes that she can “ask for something. Possibly not much; but something” (153). She later receives “a little present” (164) of a magazine and hand lotion, which the Commander offers “as if indulging a child’s wish for bubble gum” (167). Importantly, these indulgences do work to placate Offred; despite the fact that he has imprisoned her, routinely sexually abuses her, and has the power to “get me transferred […] To the Colonies […] Or worse” (171), her “body’s lax, cosy [sic] even” in his presence, and she is “entertained” (193) by her visits.

Offred might be said to be complicit in her own abuse, made complacent by placatory gifts from her abuser, or she can be seen as someone making the best of an impossible situation, or even deluding herself that her situation is not as terrible as it seems. Atwood never explicitly points toward a single one of these conclusions, leaving the matter ambiguous. This is paralleled in Offred’s memory of a documentary about the Holocaust and the mistress of a concentration camp supervisor. The woman insists that the man “was not a monster” (155) and Offred is aware that the woman must believe such things because “otherwise how could she have kept on living?” (156). This remembrance parallels Offred’s own compromises and conflicts regarding her relationship with the Commander.

The regime secures compliance and complicity through other mechanisms. Aunt Lydia’s use of “old porno film[s]” full of violent abuse to show what she claims “things used to be like” (128) is a key part of this. By asking the Handmaids to “[c]onsider the alternatives” (128), the regime frames the Handmaids’ imprisonment as a form of liberation from a supposedly far worse existence. In this, Atwood draws on a well-established feminist analysis of patriarchy that shows that some men’s violence against women is used as a justification for other men controlling and subordinating women in the name of “protection.”

There is also resistance to the regime: women who refuse to be complacent, compliant, and complicit. This appears first in the footage of “Unwomen” (129), including Offred’s mother, on a feminist march for reproductive freedom. Followed by a memory of Offred’s mother chiding her for being prudish, conservative, and compliant, this provides a stark contrast to Offred’s complacency around her present conditions. Moira’s escape from the Red Centre also serves a similar role. When Offred recalls that the Handmaids “found this frightening” but that “nevertheless, Moira was our fantasy” (143), it shows both her sense that rebellion is the right thing to do and her fear to actually act, which leaves such rebellion as little more than a fantasy enacted by others. This foreshadows the later moment where, having claimed to have thought about stabbing the Commander “suddenly, between his ribs,” Offred admits that “[i]n fact, I don’t think about anything of the kind. I put it in only afterwards” (150). In this case, she is not even fantasizing about the act and then not following through on it. Rather, she is fantasizing about a version of herself that would fantasize about the act when, in truth, the idea of stabbing the Commander did not even occur to her at the time. 

The other key example of complacency and complicity in these chapters comes from Luke’s subtle enjoyment of the way the increasing restrictions placed on Offred allow him to take on a traditional male role of protecting and providing for her. When he tells her “It’s only a job” and “You know I’ll always take care of you,” Offred realizes that “already he’s starting to patronize me” (188). Despite recognizing this, she dismisses it as her getting “paranoid” (188) and plays along. Even when she accepts that “[h]e doesn’t mind this” (191) and that “[w]e are not each other’s, any more. Instead, I am his” (192), she still toes the line, accepting his suggestion that attending protests “would be futile” and “doing more housework, more baking” while trying “not to cry at mealtimes” (189). Again, Atwood does not make explicit judgments about these choices and instead only shows some of the consequences and leaves readers to draw their own conclusions. 

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