I first read this book, oh, 30 years ago. How my perspective has changed. This is Atwood at her best, in my opinion. She tells the story of Elaine, a "painter" (to use her preferred title) who is about to attend a retrospective of her work in her home town of Toronto. In experiencing the city anew, she reflects on her life, one that mainly centered on the city. Written as a memoir, Elaine revisits old wounds, gently (and sometimes roughly) picking at them from the perspective of "an old lady in a pale blue track suit." I confess that i had a hard time mentally separating the author from the protagonist in the novel. 
 I cannot recommend this book enough, particularly if (like me) you're not that keen on the more dystopian themes she tackles at the moment.