This Is a Weird One, Alright...

Margaret Atwood's "February" definitely takes a dive off the deep end in terms of her subject matter. Atwood definitely seems to bear a rather pessimistic view of life, or at least of February, the "time to eat fat/ and watch hockey" (1-2). She states her belief that some people "should snip a few [of their own] testicles" (16). She then follows with her belief that the only thing stopping from mankind from doing the "sensible" (17) act of population control is the "love that does us in" (19). Whereas most people view love as a positive and wholesome emotion, Atwood views love as a roadblock, and obstacle to mankind.

At first, the reader feels rather confused by Atwood's pessimism, particularly her dislike of love. Yet we soon discover the true reason for Atwood's pessimism: it is Valentine's Day, and Atwood is alone: "February, month of despair,/ with a skewered heart in the centre./ I think dire thoughts" (25-27). Atwood's poem actually consists of her rather wandering stream of consciousness as she wallows in self-pity and defiance against the world. At the end, however, Atwood changes her tune. In an apostrophe to her cat which doubles as a self-address, Atwood tells herself to "Get rid of death. Celebrate increase. Make it be spring" (34). By the end, Atwood's self-pity and moping is gone. She has finally decided to move on with her life.

Considering her thoughts when she does not move on, I think her decision is most definitely for the better.