As metaphors go, a fireproof book is a bit on the nose. But then, in an age of censorship, consigning ideas to the flame (both literally and metaphorically) and scoring political points at the expense of artists, perhaps the sacrifice of subtlety was much needed. Nobel Laureate Margaret Atwood announced the release of an “unburnable” edition of arguably her most famous novel, The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), over a YouTube video on May 23.
The Handmaid’s Tale, set in a right-wing dystopia where women are used as breeding machines, paints a picture of a world where people do not have rights to their own bodies and sexuality. It has become topical once more with the challenge to women’s right to choice in the US. Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, the book has been burnt, banned from school libraries in the US and beyond and protested against at various points. According to the publisher, Penguin Random House, the fireproof book is “designed to protect this vital story and stand as a powerful symbol against censorship”.
There is a particular irony in the burning of books, the censorship of thought and the fear of slogans. Ideas, as the anarchist V remarked (in V for Vendetta), are bulletproof. Yet, they are not invincible. Their kryptonite is a counter-argument, a well-thought-out riposte, an act of engaged criticism. But those that most vehemently oppose certain people and books usually do not engage with either. Burning a book does nothing — it is a wanton act of destruction. Reading a book expands your horizons, even if it says something that is deeply offensive to your sensibilities. A fireproof book, then, is an act of advanced semiotics, a message to those who believe that violence and censorship are acceptable ways to oppose those you disagree with. Another irony: This metaphor is likely to be one more idea book burners refuse to engage with.
This editorial first appeared in the print edition on May 26, 2022 under the title ‘Fireproof’.