The Door

The Door

by Margaret Atwood, Phoebe Larmore

Paperback(First Edition)

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The Door, Margaret Atwood's first book of poetry since Morning in the Burned House, is a magnificent achievement. Here in paperback for the first time, these fifty lucid, urgent poems range in tone from lyric to ironic to mediative to prophetic, and in subject from the personal to the political, viewed in its broadest sense. They investigate the mysterious writing of poetry itself, as well as the passage of time and our shared sense of mortality. Brave and compassionate, The Door interrogates the certainties that we build our lives on, and reminds us once again of Margaret Atwood's unique accomplishments as one of the finest and most celebrated writers of our time.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780547237701
Publisher: HMH Books
Publication date: 12/01/2011
Edition description: First Edition
Pages: 130
Sales rank: 628,413
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.33(d)

About the Author

MARGARET ATWOODis the author of more than forty books of fiction, poetry, and critical essays. In addition to The Handmaid’s Tale (now a Hulu series) and its sequel The Testaments, her novels include The Blind Assassin (winner of the Booker Prize), Alias Grace (winner of the Giller Prize in Canada and the Premio Mondello in Italy), The Robber Bride, Cat’s Eye, The Penelopiad, The Heart Goes Last, and Hag-Seed, a novel revisitation of Shakespeare’s play The Tempest, for the Hogarth Shakespeare Project. Her latest book of short stories is Stone Mattress: Nine Tales. She is also the author of the graphic novel Angel Cat­bird (with cocreator Johnnie Christmas). Margaret Atwood lives in Toronto with writer Graeme Gibson.


Toronto, Ontario

Date of Birth:

November 18, 1939

Place of Birth:

Ottawa, Ontario


B.A., University of Toronto, 1961; M.A. Radcliffe, 1962; Ph.D., Harvard University, 1967

Read an Excerpt

GASOLINEShivering in the almost-drizzleinside the wooden outboard,nose over gunwale,I watched it drip and spreadon the sheenless water:the brightest thing in wartime,a slick of rainbow,ephemeral as insect wings,green, blue, red, and pink,my shimmering private sideshow.Was this my best toy, then?This toxic smudge, this overspillfrom a sloppy gascan filledwith essence of danger?I knew that it was poison,its beauty an illusion:I could spell flammable.But still, I loved the smell:so alien, a whiffof starstuff.I would have liked to drink it,inhale its iridescence.As if I could.That's how gods lived: as if.  EUROPE ON $5 A DAYSunrise. The thin pocked sheetsare being washed. The city's old,but new to me, and thereforestrange, and therefore fresh.Everything's clear, but flat –even the oculist's dingy eyes,even the butcher's, with its painted horse,its trays of watery entrailsand slabs of darkening flesh.I walk along,looking at everything equally.I've got all I own in this bag.I've cut myself off.I can feel the placewhere I used to be attached.It's raw, as when you grateyour finger. It's a shredded messof images. It hurts.But where exactly on meis this torn-off stem?Now here, now there.Meanwhile the other girl,the one with the memory,is coming nearer and nearer.She's catching up to me,trailing behind her, like red smoke,the rope we share.

Table of Contents

Europe on $5 a day
Year of the Hen
Resurrecting the dolls' house
Blackie in Antarctica
Mourning for cats
My mother dwindles . . .
The poet has come back . . .
Your children cut their hands . . .
Sor Juana works in the garden
Owl and Pussycat, some years later
The poets hang on
Poetry reading
A poor woman learns to write
The singer of owls
Ten o'clock news
The weather
It's autumn
Bear lament
Ice palace
The last rational man
White cotton T- shirt
War photo
War photo 2
Nobody cares who wins
The Valley of the Heretics
Saint Joan of Arc on a postcard
The hurt child
They give evidence
Enough of these discouragements
Possible activities
Questioning the dead
The nature of Gothic
The line: five variations
Another visit to the Oracle
Boat song
String tail
Stealing the Hummingbird Cup
One day you will reach . . .
Disturbed earth
Reindeer moss on granite
The Third Age visits the Arctic
You heard the man you love
At Brute Point
The door

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