THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CREEPY?

We Have Always Lived in the Castle
by Shirley Jackson
September 21, 1962

       Merricat Blackwood lives on the family estate with her sister Constance and her Uncle Julian. Not long ago there were seven Blackwoods—until a fatal dose of arsenic found its way into the sugar bowl one terrible night. Acquitted of the murders, Constance has returned home, where Merricat protects her from the curiosity and hostility of the villagers. Their days pass in happy isolation until cousin Charles appears. Only Merricat can see the danger, and she must act swiftly to keep Constance from his grasp.

I do not know what to say about this novel, not because it left me speechless, but because I feel ambivalent. I praise the subtlety, yet impactful prose, but I criticize the density of some characters and the direction of the story. This is an odd novel, so I do not know how to assess it, but I know this for sure: I was underwhelmed. 

Mary Katherine is an eccentric character that sets herself apart immediately. You know something is up with her. Even I, who was reading mindlessly, stopped in my tracks. 

"My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all, I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cup mushroom. Everyone else in our family is dead."

Um... okay! As the story unravels Merricat's cold-blooded nature transpires, and secrets are revealed. She often imagines her tormenters in pain, suffering, screaming, etc. She also wishes they were dead. If you paid close attention to certain things she says and her actions, it makes her a bone-chilling character, but not all that surprising; you really do have to pay close attention because it's subtle. However, Merricat also displays a childlike nature, which starkly contrasts her mean-streak. It's surprising for that reason, but also because she's 18; she should act more mature, but her stunted, mental, development makes sense. 

Constance was a frustrating character. She's so good, blind, and naive. We never see her get angry and she's "perfect." She is a domestic goddess, patient, doting, and only sees the good in people. Charles' blatantly obvious greed flew past her head, which made me frustrated with her and the story. How can you be so oblivious and ignorant? She's also so blasé (excluding her agoraphobia) considering everything she's endured, which is unsettling. Merricat too.

Shirley Jackson introduces the villagers and the history of the village, but it is rather insignificant, as most of the story takes place in the Blackwood Mansion/Manor, which is closed off from the village. Inconsequential throughout most of the book, the villagers become pivotal characters in the end. Readers know how much they despise the Blackwoods and how backward they are, but their actions toward the end cement their cruelty. A motif this novel and The Lottery, her other work, share is how humans tend to revert to their primal sides, which often results in dark, shocking, and entertaining behavior.

For the most part, I did not know where the plot or story was going, nor was I held in suspense, or at the edge of my seat. Uncle Julian got on my nerves, but his blathering helped piece together the background, the "incident." I wanted Charles to go back whatever hell-hole he came from, and get struck by lightning on the way back. The writing is subtle/brilliant. The plotting and pacing could be better. Merricat is a fascinating, grey character. I mentioned how I hoped this book would be better than Stoker, it's not. Watch the movie!