By MADELINE JONES
I think I may have aged about 45 years while reading Margaret Atwood’s new collection of tales, Stone Mattress. I feel wiser, more experienced, more cynical and physically tired — as I imagine old age feels. I would not recommend reading the ninth and final story before bed — not only is it unsettling and may cause nightmares, but it made it impossible to get up the next morning. I was quite convinced I’d woken up blind in a nursing home under siege. That said, this collection is a phenomenal display of imagination, wit and word craft that alternately causes awkward smiling in public (or even more awkward if you’re alone in your room) and true awe.
Courtesy of Random House