When I first read that this book was written in the 1960s, I was very pleasantly surprised. It seemed have been written at least two decades later, with the witty and generous provisions of hindsight. Atwood really nails it this time. Her flowing colorful painted prose is a joy to read, as usual. The later sections of the novel feel constricting. 
 A good novel, and for an early novel, enthralling.