By John Q. Hosedrinker 
In response to Alberta’s book ban, Margaret Atwood penned a satirical short story for teenagers, specifically addressing the removal of her novel, *The Handmaid’s Tale*, from certain school libraries. The story features two exceptionally virtuous children, John and Mary, whose perfect lives ironically contrast with the reality of banned books. This creative effort critiques Alberta Premier Danielle Smith’s support of the ban, which has seen classics like Atwood’s work, alongside titles by George Orwell and Maya Angelou, removed from shelves in some districts. Atwood has previously warned readers to obtain copies of the work, as some schools will not carry it any longer.
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Margaret Atwood takes aim at Alberta’s book ban with a satirical short story, and it’s a brilliant move, really. You know, when a government, in this case, the conservative government of Alberta, starts eyeing books they deem unsuitable – well, it’s an invitation to a literary showdown. And who better to wield the pen as a weapon than the author of *The Handmaid’s Tale* herself? The irony, I think, is simply delicious. They were essentially trying to censor her own work, a work that’s become a cautionary tale for our times.
Atwood’s response is a masterclass in literary sass. Facing the potential removal of *The Handmaid’s Tale* from some Alberta school districts, she didn’t go for a fiery rebuttal or a legal battle. Instead, she crafted a short story for seventeen-year-olds about two perfect children named John and Mary. She paints a picture of utter blandness, of lives lived without any of the messy, human realities that make stories interesting. They don’t pick their noses, they don’t have zits, and, in the ultimate act of anti-rebellion, they have five perfect children without ever having sex. It’s a direct, witty, and pointed satire of the very concept of censorship and the kind of sanitized world these book banners seem to crave.
Frankly, it’s hard not to admire her guts. Book banning, as a strategy, seems doomed to fail. History is filled with examples of books that gained popularity precisely because someone tried to suppress them. There’s a primal human instinct to seek out what is forbidden, and a list of banned books often becomes a reading list. The reaction in Alberta is a perfect example of that dynamic, with many residents, including a couple discussing their collection, making a point of owning and celebrating these books. It’s a testament to the power of storytelling and the resilience of readers.
The situation in Alberta also underscores the broader dangers of this kind of cultural control. The “guidelines” issued by the UCP, supposedly aimed at protecting children by removing certain themes, could easily be interpreted as a slippery slope into censorship. The Edmonton Public School Board, in a brilliant stroke of what’s called “malicious compliance,” seized upon the directive, seemingly going above and beyond in removing books that met the guidelines. It’s a great illustration of the power of satire and the absurdity of the whole endeavor. And Atwood’s short story is a fitting response to this kind of overreach.
The political backdrop is also worth noting. The article points out that the conservative government’s actions are largely performative, designed to appeal to a specific segment of the population and capitalize on the outrage generated by far-right media in the US. The suggestion that the UCP’s actions represent an attempt to reconsolidate the conservative base by appealing to a loud minority of Albertans formerly on the fringe is not surprising. Political maneuvering often prioritizes this kind of base consolidation over broader societal good. This makes Atwood’s satire even more relevant; it’s not just about books but about the broader issues of political control and cultural manipulation.
The whole thing is also, sadly, very predictable. The article highlights that the UCP government provided “guidelines” to remove certain themes and content. This is what can be expected and it all eventually results in the very scenario Atwood’s story lampoons.
The article does a good job of conveying how all of this impacts people in Alberta, in different ways. One person expressed a frustration that teachers are being pulled from their core work of preparing for students’ return to school in order to spend time cataloging and coding books for school websites. There’s a sense of frustration and a feeling of a waste of resources, which many Albertans can surely relate to.
The story is also a perfect illustration of the power of storytelling and the importance of pushing back against attempts to control information. The person who is disabled now and building a Little Free Library, is stocking it with copies of banned books. It’s not just a literary gesture; it’s a defiant act of resistance, a statement that says, “We will not be silenced.”
Atwood’s short story is a shot across the bow, a reminder that art and literature can be powerful weapons against censorship and cultural control. The fact that she chose satire, a genre known for its wit and ability to expose hypocrisy, is perfect. It’s a reminder that the people doing the banning are often the butt of the joke. And it reinforces the idea that the best way to fight bad ideas is with better ones, and with a good dose of humor.