My Evil Mother

I love short stories, and especially ones that are packed with mischief right from the start.

Margaret Atwood is the author of My Evil Mother, a story of relationships and the lengths mothers go to protect their children or create a world in which their children feel safe, however imaginary. As to whether this actually works remains for the children to decide, and we see this as the story winds down, when the mother - nearing the end of her life - asks the daughter whether it worked.

The story starts at a kitchen table/counter, and through it, we discover the life of a single mother doing her best to raise her daughter, guiding her through puberty, all the while remaining mysterious about the child’s father. But eventually, the father does show up in the story, and the grown child who is now in college, begins, for the first time, to wonder if the mother was a real witch?

This fictional story throws light on the life of a child whose parents are no longer together. It had me wondering about some things: When we withhold information from children, is it really because we are protecting them or ourselves? What really are we afraid of? What messaging are we passing on to them - the children - that they may likely also pass on? It is interesting how culture is formed, from one generation to the next. It is also interesting how the next generation challenges the previous generation’s teachings, tweaking them to suit their present needs.

Good read, recommended.