The Commanders In The Handmaid's Tale

The Commanders appear to be the only caste in THT that have any degree of freedom, but they themselves dispense with it in a manner similar to those at the top of the hierarchy of In Time, wastefully and with imprudence. The Commanders are given greater freedom than any other group in the text, first seen through Frederick’s possession of books: “But all around the walls there are bookcases. They’re filled with books. Books and books and books, right out in plain view, no locks, no boxes…. It’s an oasis of the forbidden,” (137). Moreover, this violation extended to the more taboo realm of pornographic magazines, which shocked Offred to an even greater extent than the presence of books had: “It’s not permitted, I said. In here, it is, he said

Some are in olden-days lingerie, shortie nightgowns, baby-doll pajamas, the occasional see-through negligee,” (235). Not only were the Commanders allowed to look at these women, but they were allowed to copulate with them as well. Resultantly, however, the caste was too comfortable with its sexual freedom, and many Commanders began affairs with their Handmaids similar to that which Frederick Waterford had: “The Commander and I have an arrangement. It’s not the first such arrangement in history, though the shape it’s taken is not the usual one,” (154). Consequently, the Commanders grew too comfortable in their positions; not only had Frederick’s wife learned of his sins with Offred at Jezebel’s for at least the second time, but the Commander was usurped by the other, more hardline Sons of Jacob, due to his overly lax attitude and affair with Offred: “Like most early Gilead Commanders who were later purged, he considered his position to be above attack,” (310). Frederick Waterford, presumably similar to many Commanders, felt to at home in his rank, focusing more on spending his leisure time indulging the liberties he was permitted than living in the awful world he occupied, and, resultantly, was lynched by the pit of snakes he saw as his

In the “Historical Notes,” it is revealed to the reader that The Handmaid’s Tale is a text that exists in the fictitious world it details when Professor Pieixoto states, “I wish, as the title of my little chat implies, to consider some of the problems associated with the soi-disant manuscript… which goes by the title of The Handmaid’s Tale,” (Atwood 300). The significance of this truth goes beyond merely putting the story into perspective, but it denotes a victory for Offred. Throughout the text, she discusses her reluctance to recount the past: “I am trying not to tell stories, or at any rate not this one,” (50). Her newfound lack of freedom to dispense her time without idling makes the past when that lack of freedom was an abundance of it seem all the more painful; she cannot abide remembering the life she now lusts for. Yet, she manages to do more than that; Offred is able to not only indulge in these thoughts that seem forbidden to her, but she is able to record them on tapes for other generations. Again, this meta-revelation occurs during Pieixoto’s lecture, as he states, “There were some thirty tapes in the collection altogether, with varying proportions of music to spoken in word… The voice is a woman’s , and, according to our voice-print experts, the same one throughout,” (301-302). Offred was able to turn her once wasted time idling into something of