Edible Woman,New

Product DescriptionEver since her engagement, the strangest thing has been happening to Marian McAlpin: she can't eat. First meat. Then eggs, vegetables, cake, pumpkin seedseverything! Worse yet, she has the crazy feeling that she's being eaten. Marian ought to feel consumed with passion. But really she just feels...consumed. A brilliant and powerful work rich in irony and metaphor, The Edible Woman is an unforgettable materpiece by a true master of contemporary literary fiction.Review'Chockfull of startling images, superbly and classically crafted...Kept me in stitches.' Saturday Night'Extraordinarily witty, and full or ironic observation.' The Toronto Star'Atwood has the magic of turning the particular and the parochial into the universal.' The Times (London)From the Publisher'Chockfull of startling images, superbly and classically crafted...Kept me in stitches.'Saturday Night'Extraordinarily witty, and full or ironic observation.'The Toronto Star'Atwood has the magic of turning the particular and the parochial into the universal.'The Times (London)About the AuthorMargaret Atwood is the author of more than twentyfive books, including fiction, poetry, and essays. Her most recent works include the bestselling novels Alias Grace and The Robber Bride and the collections Wilderness Tips and Good Bones and Simple Murders. She lives in Toronto.Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.1I know I was all right on Friday when I got up; if anything I was feeling more stolid than usual. When I went out to the kitchen to get breakfast Ainsley was there, moping: she said she had been to a bad party the night before. She swore there had been nothing but dentistry students, which depressed her so much she had consoled herself by getting drunk.You have no idea how soggy it is, she said, having to go through twenty conversations about the insides of peoples mouths. The most reaction I got out of them was when I described an abscess I once had. They positively drooled. And most men look at something besides your teeth, for gods sake.She had a hangover, which put me in a cheerful mood it made me feel so healthy and I poured her a glass of tomato juice and briskly fixed her an Alka Seltzer, listening and making sympathetic noises while she complained.As if I didnt get enough of that at work, she said. Ainsley has a job as a tester of defective electric toothbrushes for an electric toothbrush company: a temporary job. What she is waiting for is an opening in one of those little art galleries, even though they dont pay well: she wants to meet the artists. Last year, she told me, it was actors, but then she actually met some. Its an absolute fixation. I expect they all carry those bent mirrors around in their coat pockets and peer into their own mouths every time they go to the john to make sure theyre still cavity free. She ran one hand reflectively through her hair, which is long and red, or rather auburn. Could you imagine kissing one? Hed say Open wide beforehand. Theyre so bloody one track.It must have been awful, I said, refilling her glass. Couldnt you have changed the topic?Ainsley raised her almost non existent eyebrows, which hadnt been coloured in yet that morning. Of course not, she said. I pretended to be terribly interested. And naturally I didnt let on what my job was: those professional men get so huffy if you know anything about their subject. You know, like Peter.Ainsley tends to make jabs at Peter, especially when she isnt feeling well. I was magnanimous and didnt respond. Youd better eat something before you go to work, I said, its better when youve got something on your stomach.Oh god, said Ainsley, I cant face it. Another day of machines and mouths. I havent had an interesting one since last month, when that lady sent back her toothbrush because the bristles were falling off. We found out shed been using