Life Before Man by Margaret Atwood is a thoroughly disturbing read. It is beautifully written and imaginatively constructed. The prose is a delight, as are insights into character and comments on contemporary life which, in Life Before Man, happens around mid-1970s Toronto. What is disturbing about this tale of the eternal triangle, the love triangle, of course, is that these people seem to be imprisoned by the inevitable. Theirs, by the way, is less of a triangle than a dodecagon. They all seem to be quite prolific in their pursuit of the attainable. They are also reminiscent of people trying to break out from their own limitations, but who remain doomed to repeat their accustomed mistakes. Intervention might possibly break the cycle, but this would appear to be an imagination beyond where anyone lives. And any interruption to the apparently inevitable would surely just recreate circumstances that would ensure reversion to type.
Lesje (pronounced Lashia) is in one relationship with William and another with fossils. Sometimes she becomes confused as to which is which. She and William are not married. This may or may not have significance, depending on the moral stance you take on contemporary ideas of the permissive. In fact Lesje is espoused to her work in the palaeontology section of the museum where she is employed, along with, if not exactly alongside, other members of the plot. Lesje is a slight figure, small breasted and thin, but she seems to punch above her weight intellectually and also physically, when she finds what she wants.
Elizabeth is married to Nate. They have two children and what was called at the time an “open” relationship, that in reality is about as open as a deceitful closed door. Being open for them, appears to require them not to lie openly about how much they are deceiving one another.
Superficially Elizabeth appears very confident. She seems to want to call the shots, but often finds that she has not only run out of ammunition, but also that she has become the target. When we reassemble her affairs – mostly finished – and her unhappy childhood shared with a demanding sister and a foster mother called Auntie Muriel, we can start to reconstruct the miasma inside her head, the mess that apparently tries to recreate itself in most aspects of her life.
Nate, Elizabeth’s nattily named husband, is sometimes a gangling fool, often clumsy and inept. At other times he knows precisely what to do with his tools and gets the job done, usually to the delight of all concerned. He certainly seems to string the ladies along. Lesje becomes the latest. The timing seems doubly crass and insensitive, especially because Elizabeth’s recently rejected, Chris, has just responded to change by blowing his brains out with a shotgun. A tale of everyday folk, this…
It seems that these lives become simultaneously a form of torture and masochism. For these participants, it also seems to work, depending on which side of the transaction anyone wants to be. The purpose of existence seems to be the seeking of pleasure in order to inflict pain, both on oneself and on others. Elizabeth and Nate’s children will grow up to reproduce the pattern, because it will be all they have known. And eventually, of course, they are destined to be passed around like so much chattel.
Lesje likes to have everything catalogued, neatly labelled and filed away in its box for future reference. It’s a tendency that is as unlike the lives of these people that it even becomes rather comic.
Life Before Man is a truly imaginative title. It may refer to Lesje’s dinosaur fossils. It may refer to the women, who indeed may have envisaged a life before encountering their men. It may also be simply human life, all of it, laid before us, all of us.
Whatever the slant, Life Before Man intrigues, excites and illuminates all at the same time. Margaret Atwood’s perceptions and ability to sum up the human condition at the flick of a phrase are uncanny. There is also a hint of derision, a suggestion that these people may not only be their own worst enemies, but everyone else’s as well. Perhaps Life Before Man was thus a relatively privileged state. We wouldn’t know, of course, because we are what we have become. All else is fossil.