Margaret Atwood’s latest book is like nothing the famed novelist has produced before: a loosely connected story arc tying together a collection of “stories about people who might well be thinly disguised versions of Atwood’s parents, sister, husband and various other friends and acquaintances that have passed through her life.” Still, Atwood is insistent that there is no autobiography here. “It’s not that the things in the stories didn’t happen. A lot of them did. They didn’t necessarily happen in that order. And there are a lot of glaring omissions.”