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Alias Grace: A Novel Paperback – Illustrated, October 13, 1997
Purchase options and add-ons
It's 1843, and Grace Marks has been convicted for her involvement in the vicious murders of her employer and his housekeeper and mistress.
Some believe Grace is innocent; others think her evil or insane. Now serving a life sentence, Grace claims to have no memory of the murders. An up-and-coming expert in the burgeoning field of mental illness is engaged by a group of reformers and spiritualists who seek a pardon for Grace. He listens to her story while bringing her closer and closer to the day she cannot remember. What will he find in attempting to unlock her memories?
Captivating and disturbing, Alias Grace showcases bestselling, Booker Prize-winning author Margaret Atwood at the peak of her powers.
- Print length468 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherVintage
- Publication dateOctober 13, 1997
- Dimensions5.18 x 0.98 x 8.01 inches
- ISBN-100385490445
- ISBN-13978-0385490443
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From the Publisher
Editorial Reviews
Review
"A stunning novel full of sly wit, compassion and insight, boasting writing that is lyrical, assured, evocative of time and place, and seductive in its power to engage us." —Houston Chronicle
"Atwood provides the elements of a walloping good read: suspense, mystery, titillation, and a fully crafted but never ponderous historical milieu." —St. Louis Post-Dispatch
"Villain or victim, Atwood's Grace is intriguing company." —People
"A shadowy, fascinating novel." —Time
From the Publisher
--Washington Post Book World
"A stunning novel full of sly wit, compassion and insight, boasting writing that is lyrical, assured, evocative of time and place, and seductive in its power to engage us."
--Houston Chronicle
"Atwood provides the elements of a walloping good read: suspense, mystery, titillation, and a fully crafted but never ponderous historical milieu."
--St. Louis Post-Dispatch
"Villain or victim, Atwood's Grace is intriguing company."
--People
"A shadowy, fascinating novel."
--Time
From the Inside Flap
Grace Marks has been convicted for her involvement in the vicious murders of her employer, Thomas Kinnear, and Nancy Montgomery, his housekeeper and mistress. Some believe Grace is innocent; others think her evil or insane. Now serving a life sentence, Grace claims to have no memory of the murders.
Dr. Simon Jordan, an up-and-coming expert in the burgeoning field of mental illness, is engaged by a group of reformers and spiritualists who seek a pardon for Grace. He listens to her story while bringing her closer and closer to the day she cannot remember. What will he find in attempting to unlock her memories? Is Grace a female fiend? A bloodthirsty femme fatale? Or is she the victim of circumstances?
From the Back Cover
Grace Marks has been convicted for her involvement in the vicious murders of her employer, Thomas Kinnear, and Nancy Montgomery, his housekeeper and mistress. Some believe Grace is innocent; others think her evil or insane. Now serving a life sentence, Grace claims to have no memory of the murders.
Dr. Simon Jordan, an up-and-coming expert in the burgeoning field of mental illness, is engaged by a group of reformers and spiritualists who seek a pardon for Grace. He listens to her story while bringing her closer and closer to the day she cannot remember. What will he find in attempting to unlock her memories? Is Grace a female fiend? A bloodthirsty femme fatale? Or is she the victim of circumstances?
About the Author
Atwood has won numerous awards including the Arthur C. Clarke Award for Imagination in Service to Society, the Franz Kafka Prize, the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade, the PEN USA Lifetime Achievement Award and the Dayton Literary Peace Prize. In 2019 she was made a member of the Order of the Companions of Honour for services to literature. She has also worked as a cartoonist, illustrator, librettist, playwright and puppeteer. She lives in Toronto, Canada.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
I am sitting on the purple velvet settee in the Governor's parlour, the Governor's wife's parlour; it has always been the Governor's wife's parlour although it is not always the same wife, as they change them around according to the politics. I have my hands folded in my lap the proper way although I have no gloves. The gloves I would wish to have would be smooth and white, and would be without a wrinkle.
I am often in this parlour, clearing away the tea things and dusting the small tables and the long mirror with the frame of grapes and leaves around its and the pianoforte; and the tall clock that came from Europe, with the orange-gold sun and the silver moon, that go in and out according to the time of day and the week of the month. I like the clock best of anything in the parlour, although it measures time and I have too much of that on my hands already.
But I have never sat down on the settee before, as it is for the guests. Mrs. Alderman Parkinson said a lady must never sit in a chair a gentleman has just vacated, though she would not say why; but Mary Whitney said, Because, you silly goose, it's still warm from his bum; which was a coarse thing to say. So I cannot sit here without thinking of the ladylike bums that have sat on this very settee, all delicate and white, like wobbly softboiled eggs.
The visitors wear afternoon dresses with rows of buttons up their fronts, and stiff wire crinolines beneath. It's a wonder they can sit down at all, and when they walk, nothing touches their legs under the billowing skirts, except their shifts and stockings. They are like swans, drifting along on unseen feet; or else like the jellyfish in the waters of the rocky harbour near our house, when I was little, before I ever made the long sad journey across the ocean. They were bell-shaped and ruffled, gracefully waving and lovely under the sea; but if they washed up on the beach and dried out in the sun there was nothing left of them. And that is what the ladies are like: mostly water.
There were no wire crinolines when I was first brought here. They were horsehair then, as the wire ones were not thought of. I have looked at them hanging in the wardrobes, when I go in to tidy and empty the slops. They are like birdcages; but what is being caged in? Legs, the legs of ladies; legs penned in so they cannot get out and go rubbing up against the gentlemen's trousers. The Governor's wife never says legs, although the newspapers said legs when they were talking about Nancy, with her dead legs sticking out from under the washtub.
It isn't only the jellyfish ladies that come. On Tuesdays we have the Woman Question, and the emancipation of this or that, with reform-minded persons of both sexes; and on Thursdays the Spiritualist Circle, for tea and conversing with the dead, which is a comfort to the Governor's wife because of her departed infant son. But mainly it is the ladies. They sit sipping from the thin cups, and the Governor's wife rings a little china bell. She does not like being the Governor's wife, she would prefer the Governor to be the governor of something other than a prison. The Governor had good enough friends to get him made the Governor, but not for anything else.
So here she is, and she must make the most of her social position and accomplishments, and although an object of fear, like a spider, and of charity as well, I am also one of the accomplishments. I come into the room and curtsy and move about, mouth straight, head bent, and I pick up the cups or set them down, depending; and they stare without appearing to, out from under their bonnets.
The reason they want to see me is that I am a celebrated murderess. Or that is what has been written down. When I first saw it I was surprised because they say Celebrated Singer and Celebrated Poetess and Celebrated Spiritualist and Celebrated Actress, but what is there to celebrate about murder? All the same, Murderess is a strong word to have attached to you. It has a smell to it, that word—musky and oppressive, like dead flowers in a vase. Sometimes at night I whisper it over to myself. Murderess, Murderess. It rustles, like a taffeta skirt across the floor.
Murderer is merely brutal. It's like a hammer, or a lump of metal. I would rather be a murderess than a murderer, if those are the only choices.
Sometimes when I am dusting the mirror with the grapes I look at myself in it, although I know it is vanity. In the afternoon light of the parlour my skin is a pale mauve, like a faded bruise, and my teeth are greenish. I think of all the things that have been written about me—that I am an inhuman female demon, that I am an innocent victim of a blackguard forced against my will and in danger of my own life, that I was too ignorant to know how to act and that to hang me would be judicial murder, that I am fond of animals, that I am very handsome with a brilliant complexion, that I have blue eyes, that I have green eyes, that I have auburn and also brown hair, that I am tall and also not above the average height, that I am well and decently dressed, that I robbed a dead woman to appear so, that I am brisk and smart about my work, that I am of a sullen disposition with a quarrelsome temper, that I have the appearance of a person rather above my humble station, that I am a good girl with a pliable nature and no harm is told of me, that I am cunning and devious, that I am soft in the head and little better than an idiot. And I wonder, how can I be all of these different things at once?
It was my own lawyer, Mr. Kenneth MacKenzie, Esq., who told them I was next door to an idiot. I was angry with him over that, but he said it was by far my best chance and I should not appear to be too intelligent. He said he would plead my case to the utmost of his ability, because whatever the truth of the matter I was little more than a child at the time, and he supposed it came down to free will and whether or not one held with it. He was a kind gentleman although I could not make head nor tail of much of what he said, but it must have been good pleading. The newspapers wrote that he performed heroically against overwhelming odds. Though I don't know why they called it pleading, as he was not pleading but trying to make all of the witnesses appear immoral or malicious, or else mistaken.
I wonder if he ever believed a word I said.
When I have gone out of the room with the tray, the ladies look at the Governor's wife's scrapbook. Oh imagine, I feel quite faint, they say, and You let that woman walk around loose in your house, you must have nerves of iron, my own would never stand it. Oh well one must get used to such things in our situation, we are virtually prisoners ourselves you know, although one must feel pity for these poor benighted creatures, and after all she was trained as a servant, and it's as well to keep them employed, she is a wonderful seamstress, quite deft and accomplished, she is a great help in that way especially with the girls' frocks, she has an eye for trimmings, and under happier circumstances she could have made an excellent milliner's assistant.
Although naturally she can be here only during the day, I would not have her in the house at night. You are aware that she has spent time in the Lunatic Asylum in Toronto, seven or eight years ago it was, and although she appears to be perfectly recovered you never know when they may get carried away again, sometimes she talks to herself and sings out loud in a most peculiar manner. One cannot take chances, the keepers conduct her back in the evenings and lock her up properly, otherwise I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink. Oh I don't blame you, there is only so far one can go in Christian charity, a leopard cannot change its spots and no one could say you have not done your duty and shown a proper feeling.
The Governor's wife's scrapbook is kept on the round table with the silk shawl covering it, branches like vines intertwined, with flowers and red fruit and blue birds, it is really one large tree and if you stare at it long enough the vines begin to twist as if a wind is blowing them. It was sent from India by her eldest daughter who is married to a missionary, which is not a thing I would care to do myself. You would be sure to die early, if not from the rioting natives as at Cawnpore with horrid outrages committed on the persons of respectable gentlewomen, and a mercy they were all slaughtered and put out of their misery, for only think of the shame; then from the malaria, which turns you entirely yellow, and you expire in raving fits; in any case before you could turn around, there you would be, buried under a palm tree in a foreign clime. I have seen pictures of them in the book of Eastern engravings the Governor's wife takes out when she wishes to shed a tear.
On the same round table is the stack of Godey's Ladies' Books with the fashions that come up from the States, and also the Keepsake Albums of the two younger daughters. Miss Lydia tells me I am a romantic figure; but then the two of them are so young they hardly know what they are saying. Sometimes they pry and tease; they say, Grace, why don't you ever smile or laugh, we never see you smiling, and I say I suppose Miss I have gotten out of the way of it. My face won't bend in that direction any more. But if I laughed out loud I might not be able to stop; and also it would spoil their romantic notion of me. Romantic people are not supposed to laugh, I know that much from looking at the pictures.
The daughters put all kinds of things into their albums, little scraps of cloth from their dresses, little snippets of ribbon, pictures cut from magazines—the Ruins of Ancient Rome, the Picturesque Monasteries of the French Alps, Old London Bridge, Niagara Falls in summer and in winter, which is a thing I would like to see as all say it is very impressive, and portraits of Lady This and Lord That from England. And their friends write things in their graceful handwriting, To Dearest Lydia from your Eternal Friend, Clara Richards; To Dearest Marianne In Memory of Our Splendid Picnic on the Shores of Bluest Lake Ontario. And also poems:
As round about the sturdy Oak
Entwines the loving Ivy Vine,
My Faith so true, I pledge to You,
'Twill evermore be none but Thine, Your Faithful Laura.
Or else:
Although from you I far must roam,
Do not be broken hearted,
We two who in the Soul are One
Are never truly parted. Your Lucy.
This young lady was shortly afterwards drowned in the Lake when her ship went down in a gale, and nothing was ever found but her box with her initials done in silver nails; it was still locked, so although damp, nothing spilt out, and Miss Lydia was given a scarf out of it as a keepsake.
When I am dead and in my grave
And all my bones are rotten,
When this you see, remember me,
Lest I should be forgotten.
That one is signed, I will always be with you in Spirit, Your loving 'Nancy', Hannah Edmonds, and I must say the first time I saw that, it gave me a fright, although of course it was a different Nancy. Still, the rotten bones. They would be, by now. Her face was all black by the time they found her, there must have been a dreadful smell. It was so hot then, it was July, still she went off surprisingly soon, you'd think she would have kept longer in the dairy, it is usually cool down there. I am certainly glad I was not present, as it would have been very distressing.
I don't know why they are all so eager to be remembered. What good will it do them? There are some things that should be forgotten by everyone, and never spoken of again.
The Governor's wife's scrapbook is quite different. Of course she is a grown woman and not a young girl, so although she is just as fond of remembering, what she wants to remember is not violets or a picnic. No Dearest and Love and Beauty, no Eternal Friends, none of those things for her; what it has instead is all the famous criminals in it—the ones that have been hanged, or else brought here to be penitent, because this is a Penitentiary and you are supposed to repent while in it, and you will do better if you say you have done so, whether you have anything to repent of or not.
The Governor's wife cuts these crimes out of the newspapers and pastes them in; she will even write away for old newspapers with crimes that were done before her time. It is her collection, she is a lady and they are all collecting things these days, and so she must collect something, and she does this instead of pulling up ferns or pressing flowers, and in any case she likes to horrify her acquaintances.
So I have read what they put in about me. She showed the scrapbook to me herself, I suppose she wanted to see what I would do; but I've learnt how to keep my face still, I made my eyes wide and flat, like an owl's in torchlight, and I said I had repented in bitter tears, and was now a changed person, and would she wish me to remove the tea things now; but I've looked in there since, many times, when I've been in the parlour by myself.
A lot of it is lies. They said in the newspaper that I was illiterate, but I could read some even then. I was taught early by my mother, before she got too tired for it, and I did my sampler with leftover thread, A is for Apple, B is for Bee; and also Mary Whitney used to read with me, at Mrs. Alderman Parkinson's, when we were doing the mending; and I've learnt a lot more since being here, as they teach you on purpose. They want you to be able to read the Bible, and also tracts, as religion and thrashing are the only remedies for a depraved nature and our immortal souls must be considered. It is shocking how many crimes the Bible contains. The Governor's wife should cut them all out and paste them into her scrapbook.
They did say some true things. They said I had a good character; and that was so, because nobody had ever taken advantage of me, although they tried. But they called James McDermott my paramour. They wrote it down, right in the newspaper. I think it is disgusting to write such things down.
That is what really interests them—the gentlemen and the ladies both. They don't care if I killed anyone, I could have cut dozens of throats, it's only what they admire in a soldier, they'd scarcely blink. No: was I really a paramour, is their chief concern, and they don't even know themselves whether they want the answer to be no or yes.
I'm not looking at the scrapbook now, because they may come in at any moment. I sit with my rough hands folded, eyes down, staring at the flowers in the Turkey carpet. Or they are supposed to be flowers. They have petals the shape of the diamonds on a playing card; like the cards spread out on the table at Mr. Kinnear's, after the gentlemen had been playing the night before. Hard and angular. But red, a deep thick red. Thick strangled tongues.
Product details
- Publisher : Vintage
- Publication date : October 13, 1997
- Edition : Reprint
- Language : English
- Print length : 468 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0385490445
- ISBN-13 : 978-0385490443
- Item Weight : 2.31 pounds
- Dimensions : 5.18 x 0.98 x 8.01 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #25,898 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #255 in Science Fiction Crime & Mystery
- #1,283 in Suspense Thrillers
- #2,059 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the authors

Margaret Atwood is the author of more than fifty books of fiction, poetry and critical essays. Her novels include Cat's Eye, The Robber Bride, Alias Grace, The Blind Assassin and the MaddAddam trilogy. Her 1985 classic, The Handmaid's Tale, went back into the bestseller charts with the election of Donald Trump, when the Handmaids became a symbol of resistance against the disempowerment of women, and with the 2017 release of the award-winning Channel 4 TV series. ‘Her sequel, The Testaments, was published in 2019. It was an instant international bestseller and won the Booker Prize.’
Atwood has won numerous awards including the Booker Prize, the Arthur C. Clarke Award for Imagination in Service to Society, the Franz Kafka Prize, the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade and the PEN USA Lifetime Achievement Award. In 2019 she was made a member of the Order of the Companions of Honour for services to literature. She has also worked as a cartoonist, illustrator, librettist, playwright and puppeteer. She lives in Toronto, Canada.
Photo credit: Liam Sharp

José Antonio Alías comenzó su andadura como compositor y más tarde se realizó como escritor bajo el mismo nombre artístico y pseudónimo, respectivamente, de Ares Van Jaag. Posteriormente ejercería como editor independiente.
Entre sus obras literarias destacan "Manual del Jugador Profesional" - Editorial Trafford Publishing (2008), "El Motor de Agua" - Editorial Vivelibro (2013) o "Moncheta Gonzalo de la Birria Caateta" - Editorial Alvi Books (2016).
Fue director de Editorial Planeta-Alvi hasta la modificación de su denominación social en 2018.
En la actualidad ejerce como editor y director de la editorial londinense Alvi Books, Ltd.
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Top reviews from the United States
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- Reviewed in the United States on December 16, 2017Format: KindleVerified PurchaseHaving really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale, I was very excited to read Alias Grace and to see that it is a new series on Netflix. I really enjoyed The Handmaid's Tale but I have to say that I actually liked Alias Grace more. It might have been because it was based on a true story but the story was fascinating to me.
Grace Marks is a prisoner, having been found guilty of the grisly murder of her employer and his housekeeper. She is said to have committed the murders of Nancy Montgomery and Thomas Kinnear with her coworker, James McDermott, who is a surly and jealous man. While she was initially sentenced to hang like McDermott, she is saved by her lawyer, who pleads with the court to consider her youth, and her sentence is commuted to a life term. Soon after she is imprisoned, she is committed to an asylum on account of fits and her amnesia surrounding anything to do with the crime. While she is treated with the worst of the time's psychiatric treatments, she still does not remember anything about the time when Montgomery and Kinnear are murdered. Years later, a young psychiatrist is brought in by a group trying to prove her innocence to try to help her remember more about the crime.
My favorite part of this book would have to be the characters that Atwood has created, Nancy being one of my favorites. She is the perfect narcissist. She is jealous, manipulative and overly sensitive. One never knows where they stand with her as she can love you or hate you from day to day and minute to minute. Grace, herself, is actually quite likeable. She comes off as very intelligent in a very street smart way. I also think that she could be a very relatable character for many of us in that she is but a product of her past. While I didn't feel that Dr. Jordan's story added very much to the overall feel of the book, Grace's story was sad but very interesting. I was left wanting to know more. The writing style is sophisticated but still very easily readable. I really enjoyed this book and I believe that anyone who enjoys historical fiction, true crime or medical mysteries will enjoy this book, too.
- Reviewed in the United States on November 4, 2019Format: KindleVerified PurchaseI'm not sure how I feel about this book. It's supposed to be based on a true story, with parts embellished by the author. I would rather it have just been fiction. It felt true to the time. I didn't like what happened to the doctor. He abruptly disappeared from the story and even with an explanation, it felt odd. One minute he was an integral part of the story, the next, he was gone. The ending was also a bit contrived. But it was an interesting and engaging story and worth reading.
- Reviewed in the United States on January 29, 2017Format: KindleVerified Purchasethis is not a new book, but it - like some others of Margaret Atwood's books - gets sadly more relevant as time goes by. The story is based on a 19th century double murder case in Canada, and fills out gaps in the known facts. The story is told by alternating persons: the woman accused of the murders, the American physician who attempts to gain her trust and bring back her memory of events during the days leading to the murders. I found it psychologically very credible and beautifully described. Nowadays this would be called a case of Dissociative Identity Disorder, but at the time of the events described, psychiatry and psychology as we know them today were just beginning to emerge in France, and much was unknown in areas of neuropsychology, diagnosis and treatment. The book is also about the experiences of Irish immigrants in Canada, of kindness and cruelty and class in the new world. Finally, it is a poignant commentary about the status of women in a patriarchal society, written with uncommon depth of feeling for the heroine. A classic in my opinion.
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- Reviewed in the United States on August 24, 2025Format: KindleVerified PurchaseThough the subject of Alias Grace is historically based and interesting, I found the writing to be especially slow and it was hard to keep my mind engaged.
- Reviewed in the United States on August 11, 2014Format: KindleVerified PurchaseAnother wonderful read from Margaret Atwood. I went into this book blind, not knowing this is Atwood's re-creation of an actual event that took place in the mid 1800's. The amount of research and location of records must have been extremely difficult. I think knowing this from the outset would have made a difference in my experience of this book. While it keep me fully engaged throughout, I found it a little slow and overly descriptive at times. Becoming aware that this was an actual event, I find it to be a masterpiece in it's ability to revive the past.
This is the story of Grace, who uses an alias name after she is accused of a horrible murder. The insights into how women were regarded in this time period are always highly disturbing. Her every move is defined in relation to what males think. Atwood did an amazing job leading me through the murders and evidence against Grace. It is a sad state of affairs when men have all the power and their accusations always prevail. It left me wondering just how far Grace had to go to protect herself.
Atwood, in the end, leaves us to decide for ourselves what really took place. She also shows how limited any real choice was for a woman in that time period. In fact, I would say they were non-existent, leaving me to not only take a hard look at how long women have struggled to obtain them, but also at how these choices are slowly being stripped away in current times.
Top reviews from other countries
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生田 雅一Reviewed in Japan on November 18, 20125.0 out of 5 stars 不思議な小説
Format: PaperbackVerified Purchase15歳のGrace Marksが関わっていたとされる殺人事件を題材にした小説である。精神科医のSimon Jordanとの接見の過程で事件の一部が描かれていくが、最後まで呼んでも真実は謎のヴェイルに包まれたままだ。冒頭に置かれている事件当時に作られた詩が何かを暗示しているのかもしれない。
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mimi67Reviewed in France on August 18, 20255.0 out of 5 stars Loved it !
Magnifiquement bien écrit !
Stitcher69Reviewed in the United Kingdom on June 27, 20255.0 out of 5 stars A very worthwhile read.
Amazing . It is based on a true story. I was really gripped by the story all the way through. I can't say too much without revealing the plot and creating a spoiler. I will just say that I found it a very worthwhile read.
Nana MezReviewed in Australia on February 19, 20205.0 out of 5 stars Discovered a great book
I have always shied away from Margaret Atwood's book as I felt they were a bit strange. Had to read Alias Grace for my book group and absolutely loved it. I am now a fan of hers and will be reading more of her books.
ListenWithoutPrejudiceReviewed in Germany on August 30, 20245.0 out of 5 stars Very well written
I really enjoyed reading Alias Grace. Very few writers can match Margaret Atwood's talent and skill. Her writing is precise, deliberate and controlled, and more than anything, it is underpinned by emotional intelligence and depth of thought. A good, solid novel. I recommend it.





























