BookBrowse Reviews Book of Lives by Margaret Atwood

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The grande dame of Canadian literature releases her memoir—of sorts.

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When publishing industry contacts first approached Margaret Atwood about writing her memoir, she demurred. "[M]y 'literary memoir' would go, 'I wrote a book, I wrote a second book, I wrote another book, I wrote another book…' Dead boring. Who wants to read about someone sitting at a desk messing up blank sheets of paper?" As time passed, though, "the idea of a memoir acquired a lurid phosphorescent glow," she states. "Wasn't there something appealing in the idea? my sinister alter ego whispered. I could depict myself in a flattering light, casting a gauzy haze over my stupider or wickeder actions while blaming them on others. At the same time, I could thank my benefactors, reward my friends, trash my enemies, and pay off scores long forgotten by everyone but me. I could spill some beans, I could dish some tea." The result is Book of Lives: A Memoir of Sorts, published just weeks before the author's 86th birthday…and it's far more entertaining than her younger self imagined.

Atwood starts her life's story with that of her parents. Her father, Carl, was an entomologist who was hired to study beetles in the Canadian wilderness every summer. For many years, he and his wife (also named Margaret) lived "off the grid" from May through October, first in tents and later in a cabin the couple built from scratch. Harold, Margaret's older brother, was just three months old during their first stint in 1937, and infant Margaret was living in the wilderness before her first birthday. As her childhood stories make clear, she learned resilience, self-reliance, and independence at an early age. This wilderness existence also instilled a sense of curiosity, particularly about the natural world, and helped her develop creativity—skills which she put to good use as she entered the literary world.

Atwood goes on to narrate her school years, from her first days at a Toronto elementary school through her graduate studies, mostly through the lens of her literary talent (she created her first book of poems, Rhyming Cats, at the age of six—see Beyond the Book—and won her first major prize for poetry at the age of 21). Later, readers follow the author as she becomes an increasingly successful novelist. Finally, she concludes with her latter years, becoming an icon and coming to terms with the fact that she's reaching the end of her life. Along the way she introduces us to family, friends, enemies, and people in the publishing industry.

The book claims to be a memoir "of sorts" because Atwood also uses her platform to speak extensively about the writing process and what it means—to her, at least—to be an author. "Every writer is at least two beings," she states, "the one who lives, and the one who writes." She approaches her art as a vocation rather than a career ("a dour and ascetic though spiritual calling, like being a nun"). She conveys this duality throughout the memoir, depicting both Atwood the author and Atwood the woman. She also doesn't shy away from controversial subjects and politics—and of course she's lived too long to care much about what others think of her opinions, so her remarks can be quite blunt.

Atwood's intelligence and wit, on display throughout, make her memoir incredibly entertaining. Some of the included anecdotes are laugh-out-loud funny, and her off-the-cuff commentary enhances the book's conversational tone. She writes of her birth in 1939, just as WWII was ramping up, for example:

"Just over the horizon—actually, just over the Atlantic—war clouds were gathering. The coming storm was about to break, changing everyone and everything in its path.

And I was about to be born.

(Ominous music. You may apply this either to the Second World War or to my birth, whichever you find more fitting.)"

Atwood's fans will especially enjoy the many brief "origin stories" about her various literary inspirations. A friend's father worked in a museum, and the pair of children would run around the exhibits after hours, something that featured in her 1979 novel, Life Before Man. A fourth-grade teacher ("she was dour and frowny, and ruled through fear") became a character in Cat's Eye (1988). And Aunt Sara in The Handmaid's Tale is named after Sara Lee pastries; indeed, Atwood states, "All the Aunts in the novel were named after products aimed at women." While it's not necessary to be familiar with Atwood's works to enjoy her memoir, those who are will be tickled with these little references.

The story does bog down in the middle, as Atwood's fame and fortune increase; about 150 of the book's 550 pages involve her attending publishing events, traveling for fun, and relocating her residence several times. Many people and locations are mentioned here, but there's very little in the way of reflection, and this section didn't hold my attention as well as the earlier chapters.

My biggest critique, though, is that at times the narrative lacks emotional depth. Atwood was married for five years before divorcing so she could be with Graeme Gibson, the man who'd be her partner for the next 46 years. But her accounting of the divorce is almost a non-event; there's no indication of the emotional turmoil that likely surrounded such a decision. She writes about mourning her losses, but not in great detail. It feels like Atwood is being stoic about her past, writing the entertaining bits but unwilling or unable to delve into its more painful episodes. This does change toward the end of the book, as she recounts Graeme's decline and ultimate death, and reflects on her own life winding down. These sections had this usually unemotional reader in tears and ultimately restored the book to a five-star read for me.

In short, Book of Lives is an outstanding memoir—the story of a long life, well-lived—and I highly recommend it to Atwood's fans as well as those who appreciate the memoir genre.

This review first ran in the January 14, 2026 issue of BookBrowse Recommends.