Margaret Atwood and Canada’s Literary Venus

Sara Hailstone | November 2022

Sara Hailstone

In Chapter 10 of Survival: A Thematic Guide to Canadian Literature, “Ice Women vs Earth Mothers: The Stone Angel and the Absent Venus,” Margaret Atwood asks her reader “why no Canadian writer has seen fit—or found it imaginable—to produce a Venus in Canada?” ¹ Venus manifests in diverse forms in litera­ture. She epitomizes sensual love and childbirth. Venus is The Muse. Atwood locates tension with representations of Venus in Canadian literature. She identifies that Venus is dichotomized. There is the “sexual love department presided over by whores, or by easy and therefore despised women.” ² The wom­en who produce babies are reserved for “Diana figures, nonentities or even Hecates.” ³ Atwood’s analysis suggests that Canadian literary female char­acters are victims of polarity and pro­jected onto by writers. The Canadian literary Venus has “neither the sexual attractiveness nor the power possessed by the bitch-goddess in American lit­erature… nor are they ever allowed the wise womanliness often characteristic of ‘mature’ Venus-figures in European fiction.” ⁴ Atwood pointedly finishes her chapter by proposing that “Venus is not necessarily absent but concealed.” ⁵ This essay will explore this concealment. 

Atwood isolates her source reading list for Survival from an Anglo-European lens, which is a settler experience of “bare survival.” She brought together texts in Survival that she had access to, essentially the ones she read. “The main idea,” Atwood writes, is “hang­ing on, staying alive.” ⁶ I wonder if our Canadian literary Venus is “hanging on” and how well she is “staying alive” amongst the fabric of a body of liter­ature that has split her, most likely “othered” her and has deemed her ei­ther “absent” or “concealed.” Venus in her composite of love and childbirth is missing. 

In Survival, Venus is contextualized as a Triple Goddess, and she manifests in Canadian literature as a white or co­lonial Triple Goddess due to Atwood’s reading list. Atwood pulls the Venus trope from Robert Graves’s classification of The White Goddess: “1) Elusive Diana or Maiden figure (the young girl) 2) the Venus figure (goddess of love, sex and fertility) 3) Hecate figure (Crone, god­dess of the underworld, presiding over death and has oracular powers.” ⁷ Graves accentuates that the test of a poet is to depict this White Goddess accurately. His own conceptualization of the God­dess is death: 

The Goddess is a lovely, slender woman with a hooked nose, deathly pale face, lips red as rowan-berries, startlingly blue eyes and long fair hair; she will suddenly transform herself into sow, mare, bitch, vixen, she-ass, weasel, serpent, owl, she-wolf, tigress, mermaid or loathsome hag. Her names and titles are innumerable. In ghost stories she often figures as ‘The White Lady’, and in ancient religions, from the British Isles to the Caucasus, as the ‘White Goddess’. I cannot think of any true poet from Homer onwards who has not independently recorded his experience of her. The test of a poet’s vision, one might say, is the accuracy of his portrayal of the White Goddess and of the island over which she rules. ⁸ 

Atwood’s survey of Canadian literary female characters works through this indisposed representation of Venus and through harrowing social structures and lifestyles that do not permit reverence of Venus. Diana characters “die young,” Venus is absent, and “there is a bumper crop of sinister Hecate-Crones.” ⁹ When Atwood asks her reader, “Why there is no Venus?” I answer possibly because the literature reflects a patriarchal cul­tural scope of supressed women and also because Atwood did not come across Venus in her reading.

“Are there any real women?” Atwood implores, “or rather, are there any wom­en in Canadian literature who appear to be leading normal married lives, having children who are not dead?” ¹⁰ In comprehending this rendered trag­ic-figure laying in dormant like Pratt’s lizard, sleeping on the Canadian shield, my methodology is to turn to a missing voice and one that could have been included in Survival, a native voice, to attempt to find Venus. 

A Native voice depicts women differ­ently than Survival’s Anglo-European lens. In her book The Sacred Hoop, Paula Gunn Allen writes that “the tribes see women variously, but they do not ques­tion the power of femininity. Some­times they see women as fearful, some­times peaceful, sometimes omnipotent and omniscient, but they never portray women as mindless, helpless, simple, or oppressed.” ¹¹ This depiction contrasts with the world of fictive female charac­ters Atwood faced. Annis Pratt in “Danc­ing with Goddesses: Archetypes, Poetry, and Empowerment,” an in-depth anal­ysis conducted on the representation of Venus in literature, discusses the representation of women within native writing: “While remaining wary of fac­ile analogies between Native American and European symbols, it is helpful to look at a few examples of such arche­types as Moon Goddess, Love Goddess, Crone, and Healer in Native American poetry. For one thing, Native American women poets do not attribute ‘Terrible Mother’ characteristics to their mothers in the way that white poets do.” ¹² Per­haps Venus is “concealed” somewhere other than Anglo-European texts. Ve­nus could be hidden or masked within semantics. The reality is disturbing in how society has treated a native voice, let alone native women, and depicted native figures in literature. An investiga­tion of the depiction of native women in Canadian literature that Atwood po­tentially could have included in Surviv­al could surface whether a “Canadian” literary Venus was in fact written-out of a national thematic guide of Canadian literature in the 1970s. 

In Chapter 4 of Survival, with a dated title, “First People: Indians and Eskimos as Symbols,” Atwood acknowledges literary constructs that conformed a native presence to a white settler con­sciousness. Atwood states, “Indians and Eskimos have rarely been considered in and for themselves; they are usually made into projections of something in the white Canadian psyche, a fear or a wish.” ¹³ Atwood puts forward that a native voice at this time of her reading and writing was almost nonexistent. The question of Atwood’s accessibility to certain native texts is relevant in this analysis. At the end of the chapter, she provides her readers with an “Appendix: Writing by Indians [her term]” which states, “All the books in this chapter are by white people. What the Indians themselves think is another story, and one that is just beginning to be written. For a preview try: Cardinal, Harold, The Unjust Society; Hurtig. McLuhan, Terry, Touch the Earth; N. Pitseolak, Pitseolak; OUP. Redbird, Duke, and Marty Dunn, Red on White; N. Wabashego, The Only Good Indian.” ¹⁴ Atwood’s transparen­cy of the shortness of her appendix is confronting because in leaving out a more in-depth engagement with the listed Native texts, Survival’s method­ological perimeters completely exclude discussion of Native literature from the 1960s cultural movement known as “The Native Renaissance.” The ques­tion is in determining how much of this literature was readily available to readers at this time. In a biography on Atwood from 1998, author Nathalie Cooke includes details of critique on Survival’s exclusion of a Native voice that Atwood “had selected the negative side of Canadian literature, the litera­ture of surrender, but had neglected the Native ‘struggle literature’… she had left out works that celebrated Canada with a ‘perfect sense of being…home.” ¹⁵ Engag­ing with one source listed in Atwood’s appendix will open a discussion on the excluded “struggle literature” and start to extend the scope of the perspective of Atwood’s original analysis. Atwood has “appendicized” an era of writing that could potentially reveal the Canadian literary Venus. 

Survival does not speak to the pres­ence of a “Native Cultural Renaissance” rising up around Atwood at the time of writing and publishing the themat­ic guide. In Before the Country: Native Renaissance, Canadian Mythology, Stephanie McKenzie contextualizes that “during the 1960s and 1970s, and in the midst of Aboriginal social and political activism, an explosion of writ­ing by First Nations and Metis authors entered the Canadian literary market and announced the arrival of not only significant individuals but also a body of literature after almost six decades of Aboriginal ‘silence’ in the Canadian publishing world.” ¹⁶ Where is this “ex­plosion” of literature in Survival? In a literary article appearing in the journal Canadian Literature in 1990, “A Dou­ble-Bladed Knife: Subversive Laughter in Two Stories by Thomas King,” Atwood explains the exclusion of a native liter­ary voice in Survival: 

Once upon a time long ago, in 1972 to be exact, I wrote a book called Survival, which was about Canadian literature; an eccentric subject in those days, when many denied there was any. In this book, there was a chapter entitled First People: Indians and Eskimos as Symbols. What this chapter examined was the uses made by non-Native writers of Native characters and motifs, over the centuries and for their own purposes. This chapter did not examine poetry and fiction written by Native writers in English, for the simple reason that I could not at that time find any; although I was able to recommend a small list of non-fiction titles. The closest thing to ‘imaginative’ writing by Natives were ‘translations’ of Native myths and poetry, which might turn up at the beginnings of anthologies, or be offered as a species of Native fairy tale in grade-school readers. ¹⁷

The crux of Survival functioning as a public text for a Canadian literary con­sciousness is that Atwood’s thematic guide is in actuality a subjective work and nation-building. 

There is one source listed by Atwood that she could have turned to if accessi­bility enabled. In The Only Good Indian there is a screenplay by Nona Benedict titled “The Dress” and a poem by Duke Redbird—who is also listed in her ap­pendix—titled “Old Woman” that both engage and negotiate the identity of native women at this time of genera­tional effects of the colonial process on native peoples. Benedict’s screenplay of five scenes shows a young woman (aged about eighteen), presumably a secretary and a depiction of her encounter with white urban life. “On the screen there flash pictures of: segregation, an Indian girl standing in an open field, an Indian girl looking up, at skyscrapers, an Indi­an girl mingling with white people star­ing at her.” ¹⁸ The scenes jump around quickly with the lights flashing on and off. Next, “At the back of the scrim the grandfather is talking to a little girl,” the Grandfather says to her, “and not every­one will treat you as nicely when you are off the reserve. But then, perhaps you are too young to understand that yet.” ¹⁹ The play closes with the young woman speaking to her friend: 

Indian girl with Friend: Friend asks, “Why are you going through with this ritual?” “Well, that’s the Indian way of life and I’m Indian. I’d like to keep the old culture and the ancient dances because I’m proud of my people. I believe that once you lose your identity you become another blade of grass when you could have become a flower. That’s not saying anything against the people who have become blades of grass, it’s just that I hope to become beautiful in spirit as my ancestors were. (She turns to her friend and smiles.) I hope you know what I mean…Yes, I’ll continue my education, you can still have a good life mixing the old with the new. I’m positive you can if you try hard enough. If you give everything you try a good fight you can come out a winner. ²⁰

She might not have included a play depicting a Native woman of courage and strength in honouring her Native heritage with respect because the na­ture of the text was a play. Atwood at this time of her reading might not have considered this “imaginative” piece to be literature. 

Duke Redbird’s poem, “Old Woman,” also could be considered another artis­tic piece that Atwood characterized as “turning up” in an anthology but not included in Survival. Speaking to the Old Woman, “How close you are to the earth / How low you’ve bent.” Redbird wonders, “And what of you / Will you sink below the surface / Of my percep­tion / And slip away from my under­standing / And stand in the darkness.” ²¹ This Old Woman risks extinction. Is she a metaphor of what colonialism has done to the Native woman? Is she our missing and concealed Canadian literary Venus before colonialism bent her low and risking slipping beyond our perception? “Old woman,” Redbird observes, “I know who you are / I know this barren waste land / Upon which I stand / Was once a forest. / And you old woman / Had life and beauty / Energy and passion / Love and abundance / Freedom and chatter with the gods.” ²² This Old Woman is a victim folded inside a larger national process of ex­termination. “Did they leave you with anything at all / Except pain and misery and hunger / What last word, before you give up / Your spirit to eternity / Did they leave you even that / One word, one thought / To take with you to the last hunting ground / Love?” ²³ “They,” assuming those of a settler society or nationalists who would create texts like thematic guides. There is no “one word, one thought,” just an appendix at the end of a chapter on the disparate treatment of Native figures in Canadian literature historically. I wonder if At­wood intended for anyone to actually read these “nonfictive” titles she listed as a “preview” or how much thought and consideration went into addressing a readership who would be interested in them later on. 

The crux of this analysis is acknowl­edging that The Only Good Indian is only one text listed by Atwood and this analysis draws on only two examples. More extensive research of the works produced during the Native Cultural Renaissance could unearth more writers and literary figures that would help fill in the gaps of Atwood’s narrative. The reality hinges on what texts Atwood had access to and honouring Survival’s bias in being a thematic guide comprised of the texts that were within arm’s reach for Atwood. Her scope and breadth of texts exemplifies the stereotype of an Anglo-European Canadian reader­ship. Native literature has continued to evolve and become separate from Canadian literature altogether in some currents. Today Native literature is not deemed “unimaginative” or lacking literary components as the tone in Sur­vival implies. In “A Necessary Inclusion” Renate Eigenbrod notes how the term literature is more inclusive: “It does not underscore a rigid divide between orature and literature” and “argues for a continuation of a literary tradition be­ginning in precontact times.” ²⁴ The re­ality is that Native literature has carved out a space as a counter public in Cana­dian society when, respectfully, compo­nents of this discourse were original but stencilled over through a processual im­plementation to extinct Native culture and specifically, Native women. 

As Native literature has evolved since 1972 so too has the depiction of female Native literary figures. She is not only an Old Woman bent low, she is also a “Post-Oka Kinda Woman,” and “Here she comes strutting down your street. / This Post-Oka woman don’t take no shit. / She’s done with victimization, reparation, / degradation, assimilation, / devolution, coddled collusion, / the ‘plight of the Native Peoples.’” ²⁵ It ap­pears that this Post-Oka Woman would not tolerate the quality of conditions Atwood’s literary Venus endured and perhaps would further exist in harmony with some of Atwood’s contemporary female literary characters controlling their own bodies and surviving dystopic landscapes. 

When we acknowledge the state of Canada’s “Missing and Murdered Native Women,” she is not doing well. Atwood could write a more current thematic literary guide that will move beyond Survival while providing a retrospective look at her shaping of Canadian litera­ture and the public. I think that guide would do well, but Atwood does not feel that she would write Survival today: “[she] wouldn’t need to.” ²⁶ I take the stance that it is needed and time to do so. Venus was not necessarily missing or concealed, but possibly she existed before colonialism and was excluded. The current state of Native women in Canadian society and a reclamation of the Native woman in Native literature creates a more developed Venus than outlined by Atwood in 1972. 

Canadians “identify [themselves] through [their] literature,” we can ac­knowledge from the state of Survival, despite the intention of borderline sa­tirical discourse in an insecure literary field, we have excluded a native voice and we do not know where our Venus is. ²⁷ Regardless of what Atwood includes and leaves out of her analysis, this liter­ary choice in itself exposes the reader to Canada’s realities. There needs to be a consultation with native scholars, writ­ers, and artists to help provide a more comprehensive understanding of the Canadian literary Venus. We cannot respectably continue to include Survival in a university syllabus without facili­tating students to examine the nation­alist polemic of the text, learning about the Native Cultural Renaissance, under­standing the marketability and reason for publishing the guide and scrutiniz­ing the appendix of “nonfictive” Native texts. We cannot accept that Native literature is a counter public. “I’ll leave you with two questions which someone asked me while reading the manuscript of this book: Have we survived? If so, what happens after Survival?” ²⁸ Atwood felt that was a good place to end. I ask, especially if there is a Canadian literary Venus in hiding, “how will we be here?” In honouring the tone of this essay, more so, “how will [she] be here?” 

Sara Hailstone is a graduate of Guelph University (BA) and Queen’s University (MA and BEd). She is a graduate of the Public Texts Program at Trent University.

Notes

1. Margaret Atwood, Survival: A Thematic Guide to Canadian Literature (Toronto: Mc­Clelland & Stewart, 2004), p. 238. 

2. Margaret Atwood, Survival, p. 245.

3. Ibid., p. 245.

4. Ibid., p. 246.

5. Ibid., p. 251.

6. Ibid., p. 41. 

7. Survival, p. 237. 

8. Robert Graves, A Historical Grammar of Po­etic Myth: The White Goddess (London: Faber & Faber, 1961), p. 24. 

9. Survival, p. 237. 

10. Ibid., p. 249. 

11. Paula Gunn Allen, The Sacred Hoop: Recov­ering the Feminine in American Indian Tradi­tions (Boston: Beacon Press, 1992) 44. 

12. Annis Pratt, Dancing with Goddesses: Archetypes, Poetry, and Empowerment (Bloom­ington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1994), p. 331. 

13. Survival, p. 109.

14. Ibid., p. 128. 

15. Nathalie Cooke, Margaret Atwood: A Biog­raphy (Toronto: ECW Press, 1998), p. 294. 

16. Stephanie McKenzie, Before the Country: Native Renaissance, Canadian Mythology (To­ronto: University of Toronto Press: 2007), p. 7. 

17. Margaret Atwood, “A Double-Bladed Knife: Subversive Laughter in Two Stories by Thomas King.” Native Writers & Canadian Writing: Canadian Literature124–125 (Spring/Summer 1990), p, 243. 

18. Nona Benedict, “The Dress.” The Only Good Indian: Essays by Canadian Indians. Ed.Waubageshig. (Toronto: New Press, 1970 pp. 65–66. 

19. Benedict, Nona, “The Dress,” p. 66. 

20. Benedict, Nona, p. 69. 

21. Duke Redbird, “Old Woman,” The Only Good Indian: Essays by Canadian Indians.Ed. Waubageshig (Toronto: New Press, 1970), p. 181.

22. Duke Redbird, “Old Woman,” pp. 181–182.

23. Duke Redbird, pp. 182–183.

24. Renate Eigenbrod, “A Necessary In­clusion: Native Literature in Native Stud­ies,” Studies in American Indian Literatures. 22: 1 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, Spring 2010), p. 6. 

25. Beth Cuthand, “Post-Oka Kinda Wom­an,” Eds. Jeannette C. Armstrong and Lally Grauer, Native Poetry in Canada: A Contem­porary Anthology, (Peterborough: Broadview Press Ltd. 2001), p. 132. 

26. Survival, p. xxiii.

27. Northrop Frye, “Canada and its Poet­ry.” The Making of Modern Poetry in Canada. Essential Commentary on Poetry in English, Third Edition, Eds. Louis Dudek and Michael Gnarowski. (Montreal & Kingston: Mc­Gill-Queen’s University Press, 2017), p. 113. 

28. Survival, p. xxv.