It's not a bad book at all if it's the third in a series of 4 or 5, but as a summation of a trilogy, Atwood answered the wrong questions (as I see it) set up in the first two novels. The question I had after the first was 'Why?' and after the second, 'How?' At no point in the first two did I ask, 'Hey, what's up with the back story on that Zeb character, huh?' 
 This is why I avoid series fiction. I think we're making a balaclava with these threads; the author thinks we're making a sweater with matching mittens and a little woolen wallet that you'll thank her for as politely as can be but then hide away in a hutch drawer somewhere never to be seen again. Who even uses a knitted wallet?! Well, maybe if it were felted after - that could be alright... probably still too thick, though... Wait, is this why we call stories 'yarns'? 
 Also, no more dystopic lit for me; I'm starting to lose hope for the future. 
 But I love Margaret Atwood - beautiful writing, tremendous imagination. Probably spot-on on a future that we should all have started preparing for long ago. Off to get some canned goods and a crank radio.