The Tent

by Margaret Atwood

This book of essays and poems is by one of my favorite authors. Until now, I'd only read her fiction (novels, novellas and short stories), but this book is different than the others. They're only about 2 pages long each... And yet, they still made me think differently, which I guess, is a goal for any book I read. Still made me laugh. It's got a nice, dark sense of humor. And now I don't want to return it to the library, but I guess that it just means that I'll have to go out and buy it. I suppose there could be worse fates :)

What I really want is to post the whole book here. But that violates a number of copyright laws, and you'd miss the fun of the illustrations that are sprinkled in here and there. Just pieces of one story, because it's so much fun, and they're all so full of wonderful things that it's hard to pick several small pieces... Instead, I just chose most of one of the essays, in L's honor.

"Our cat was raptured up to heaven. He'd never liked heights so he tried to sink his claws into whatever invisible snake, giant hand, or eagle was causing him to rise in this manner, but he had no luck.

When he got to heaven, it was a large field. There were a lot of little pink things running around that he thought at first were mice. Then he saw God sitting in a tree. Angels were flying here and there with their fluttering white wings; they were making sounds like doves. Every once in a while God would reach out with its large furry paw and snatch one of them out of the air and crunch it up. The ground under the tree was littered with bitten off angel wings.

Our cat went politely over to the tree. Meow, said our cat. Meow, said God. Actually, it was more like a roar.

I always thought you were a cat, said our cat, but I wasn't sure...

They aren't mice, said God. But catch as many of them as you like. Don't kill them right away. Make them suffer.

You mean, play with them? said our cat. I used to get in trouble for that.

It's a question of semantics, said God. You won't get in trouble for that here.

Our cat chose to ignore this remark, as he did not know what "semantics" was. He did not intend to make a fool of himself. If they aren't mice, what are they? he said. Already he'd pounced on one. He held it down under his paw. It was kicking, and uttering tiny shrieks.

They're the souls of human beings who have been bad on Earth, said God, half-closing its yellowy-green eyes. Now if you don't mind, it's time for my nap.

What are they doing in heaven? said our cat.

Our heaven is their hell, said God. I like a balanced universe."