We Have Always Lived in the Castle (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)

If you haven't read it, you might want to go ahead and get her read before reading what I am posting here. It's a great little book. I loved the message it sent. You can still be happy, even in the midst of destruction, so long as you aren't around annoying people. Also, notice how the villagers started leaving goodies for the girls only to make themselves feel better? It was a selfish way to gain control of the situation since the girls completely and utterly ignored them with every ounce of their beings. If the townsfolk really were doing something truly for the girls, they would have just left them alone like they wanted. Still wasn't really sure why Charles called them old maids. It's not like they were that old. All and all We Have Always Lived in A Castle is written in a captivating style that holds your attention. What moves the story along is this idea that every time the youngest daughter, Mary, is threatened, something bad happens, like contaminated food or a fire, and she manages to keep her existence intact. Nothing changes. No asylums to attend and she gets to keep her caregiver, too. A castle is a safe place that protects members of the royal caste and that's pretty much what this house does for Mary or MerryKat as she is nicknamed, and Constance, her older sister. It keeps people away. So yeah, the title of the book does it justice. Its just a good, down home, anti social read in the voice and experience of someone who wants nothing at all to do with a single soul except one other person and I love it! This story definitely has a Lizzie Borden quality to it. I was so reminded of that particular story just by the circumstances - the two women for instance, and one of them murdering their parents. So much reasonable doubt, too, so that we never know exactly who it was that murdered them. Toward the story's (non) conclusion, we are made aware it was quite possibly Merrikat who did it due to an argument her parents had, perhaps over sending her away. She is rather destructive at times. I got the feeling all she wanted was to live that existence forever, with Constance to look after her, whom she trusted. The story is told entirely from her point of view, not taking into consideration of anyone's needs but hers. I felt sad the only one she felt she could trust in life was Constance. Everyone else seemed to let her down. She does her best to turn Constance into a shell of a person, kind of lobotomizes her through circumstance or trial by fire or something. Constance ends up surviving but only if she fulfills the role of guardian and caretaker to Merrikat. She is terrorized and traumatized by putting on trial for the murder of her parents and eventually acquitted. She is too fragile to ever face the hatred and scorn of the townspeople, so she hides in the house with Merrikat, whom it seems to work out fine for. The circumstances constantly cocoon her as she manages to manipulate them without really seeming to look as if she is. Perhaps she is such a person, no one would afford her that power so it is easier for her to get away with it. She is pretty much an innocent only not exactly. She is very protective of her own way and if someone perishes in preserving it, so be it. Preservation is a theme in this tale. The family cellar is full of generations of home grown food canned over the generations which everyone is too afraid to eat. So they just sit there on the shelves for thousands and thousands of years, well, eventually. Things took a turn for the worst when their father locked up the property, banning the locals from taking a cherished short cut to the highway. That must have been where the ill will started between the townsfolk and the family and it only gets worse from here. I really liked the story but one thing I think would have made it more interesting, for me, personally, is if Jackson would have included Charles in the family's "last supper" and toyed with the idea of not knowing, for sure, who murdered the family - Merrikat or Charles. I like that mysterious, unknown element. Life's question marks.

In an interview to NPR, Kazuo Ishiguro once said that his intention when he wrote Never Let Me Go was to talk about our natural lifespan and explore what we as human beings do to cope with the inexorable fact that we will eventually perish. "We will fade away and die," he said, "but people can find energy to create little pockets of happiness and decency while we're here." Indeed, one of the things among many that really touched me in NLMG was exactly this strange sense of decency and dignity that follows Kathy, Tommy and Ruth in their very short lifespans, and that is also what I felt reading WHALITC. There is a permanent sense of decency and dignity in Constance, Mary Katherine (or Merricat for short) and Uncle Julian all through their tragic events that really stayed with me after finishing reading the book. The tragedy here comes from their irreversible trend towards isolation and shrinking terrain (and that is something I didn't notice initially but learned about in a podcast about the book, but the space they live becomes smaller and smaller to the point of becoming clautrophobic) not only due to Merricat's sociopathy, Constance's agoraphobia and Uncle Julian's dementia, but even more so because of the storming hatred towards them from the people living in the village near their house (or castle, very much gothic and Dracula-like, and echoing, in my opinion, both "The Lottery" and "Flower Garden", two of Jackson's creepiest short stories.) Still, to the end, Connie and Merricat manage to keep their little pocket of happiness and decency. Despite all tension and creepy ambience, this is a book filled with light. There is another interesting underlying connection with Ishiguro's (although not so much in NLMG), his fondness for unreliable narrators: Merricat is the perfect definition of unreliability. Many fans have already highlighted that she sounds like a 12-year-old, childish, fantasy-driven (almost delusional), vengeful and emotionally unbalanced little girl, although she is actually 18 years old. Still, she is so likeable! For me, what makes this book shine is the way Jackson very talentedly builds Merricat's narrative, making us believe in her and like her despite all her strange (and creepy) actions, breaking, burying and nailing things as part of rituals or spells. Maybe it is because, while firmly rooted in the gothic genre, the whole story only touches the supernatural without really delving into it, which gives us the sense that her spells are futile against the real threats of the "bad people". It is the fragility and defenselessness of Connie, Merricat and Uncle Julian against the very down-to-earth hatred of the villagers or the greediness of Charles that makes us empathize with them, even making us condescend with their reprimendable (criminal) acts. I guess only Jackson could makes us feel cheerful with their passively entering popular imagination as witches in a haunted house. Indeed, some fans qualify this book as a prequel to The Haunting of the Hill House and that is my next stop.

“Merricat, said Connie, would you like a cup of tea? Oh no, said Merricat, you'll poison me. Merricat, said Connie, would you like to go to sleep? Down in the boneyard ten feet deep!” Since the mysterious death their family, the superstitious Mary Katherine "Merricat" Blackwood, her ailing, wheelchair-bound, uncle Julian, and agoraphobic sister Constance have lived in a contented state of isolation, secluding themselves from the taunting villagers. But when cousin Charles arrives in search of the Blackwood fortune, a terrible family secret is revealed. "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, and 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 phallaides, the death-cup mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead." First off, I loved the writing style of Shirley Jackson. I loved the narrative being told from Merricat's point of view. I loved her take on the world. After that I didn't love much else. This story reads slow, with no build up what so ever. Throughout the entire story I kept wondering if there was a twist since the reveal is known up front. There are levels of suspense, notions of paranoia and claustrophobia, but I never felt trapped enough, I never felt like there was much too lose. I was really hoping the ending would save this book, but it just stops open-ended leaving you to create your own ghost story.

'It's a little too candy-box pretty for me', George said with that wonderful wit of his, narrowing his eyes with glee, adjusting his driver's seat and lowering his voice into a comical growl. 'Yes', he continued 'for behind these quiet houses often lurks evil in the heart of mankind'. George, one of my weekend guests and I, were exploring a village in New England on a spring day, a small community which has long become a tourist draw for New Yorkers along the shore of the Connecticut River. Chuckling, I glanced out the window at the sleepy Main Street early at dawn, and his comment brought to mind one of my favorite books, first read with great enchantment when published in the early 60's. It was: "We Have Always Lived in The Castle", by the late author Shirley Jackson. This short novel is about a young girl Merricat now eighteen when the story begins, and her older sister Constance Blackwood, the sole survivors of their intimate family circle, and their elderly Uncle Julian, a now addled invalid confined to his chair, busy with his papers documenting the purported crime that his niece Constance was accused of, that of polishing off her family with a serving of berries and arsenic-laced sugar. Merricat, thirteen at the time of the tragedy, had been sent to her room without supper for some infraction and thus survived; their Uncle Julian only barely, having asked for a modest sprinkling of sugar on his dessert. Constance was acquitted after the trial was over and the case was closed, but the village people remain hostile to her and the house, and she rarely ventures outdoors. Merricat has to go once a week to the the village for groceries, attracting hostile stares from the locals and meeting up with the village bully, Jim Donell, an arrogant man who enjoys his attempts to rattle and tease her. Occasionally some young boys from the village on a dare, creep up at night and throw stones at the windows of the Blackwood house, chanting their little mockeries before running away as fast as they can and this local legend continues to grow among them. And, then one day a cousin of the family, Charles, a first-time visitor shows up in the midst of their quiet existence, moves into the house, courts Constance and starts to make changes with a firm agenda in mind. Havoc ensues as a result of this intruder. Merricat narrates the story, and after I finished this mysterious, magical and dark delight, for that was my interpretation at a young age, I wanted to join her as a playmate, and her intriguing unusual voice in the telling of her adventures and forays into nature drew me in right away. Merricat in fact will remain forever thirteen. Many years later when I picked Jackson's novel up again, it was with finer clarity and a more mature and experienced eye. Words such as creepy, depressing and weird are some of the comments one finds among new and younger readers today and while they all carry validity, to my mind the word 'sinister' comes to the forefront. It is not the gentle Constance, nor the troubled Merricat, nor their ailing Uncle Julian, who are the sinister ones here, it is the collective cruelty of people banding together that is frightening. A theme which the author Shirley Jackson knew about first-hand, and addresses in this memorable and psychological masterpiece of hers, Jackson was to return to this topic in some of her other important works. There are several defining moments that stood out on this second reading: when circumstances reach an explosive edge, Uncle Julian comes out of his reality from the past, and in a moment of rare if fatal lucidity, joins his two nieces protectively against Charles, the dangerous and manipulative trespasser. There is a tinge of unexpected conviction laced with pathos to be found here. The turning point in the story, however, is perhaps when the leader of the village, Jim Donell, after removing his professional hat, picks up a rock as a sign to the pack of malicious onlookers to have fun, and the destructive party begins. A tragedy? Reflections on the subject of collective shame? A horrifying tale? All of the above, and more perhaps. Some of the reviewers are able to articulate it better. On a side note, the author Eric Hoffer was to say that he was doubtful about 'collective shame' on the basis that association with others is almost always felt as an association with one's betters, and to sin with one's betters cannot be productive of a crushing shame. And, yet Shirley Jackson goes on to show that there are such cases as the above in this famous novel of hers. One might feel, after reading this classic, like joining the village people in the aftermath of their actions, in leaving a pot of jam, or some fresh bread, a small token of some kindness on the door-steps of this household now at peace while moving quietly away again. There are slight tinges of redemption to be found here as well. Known for her extraordinary Gothic novels, Shirley Jackson was also a fine psychologist of the human condition, and her own life, by all accounts, was not always a happy one although she could be wicked and witty at times especially when it came to her own family anecdotes and her short stories. To D. Friedlander, moderate and steady in his views, yet passionate in spirit; his wry humor and fine perception; his reasoned clarifications on important life issues, the many laughs and complexities we experienced over the years, and for explaining to me why Shirley Jackson's enduring short story "The Lottery", best remembered of all her writings today, caused such a furor among people when published in 1948. She will always be a favorite of mine

The best lines in the novel may be the first. "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..." There's a hooker for you. It's not a horror story. There's nothing supernatural about it, but it's terribly spooky nonetheless because it involves a trip into the mind of what psychiatrists would call a schizotypal personality. Mary is given to magical thinking and odd behavior. She buries things. She sees people as demons. She believes that if she wishes intently enough she can make things come true. She dreams about living on the moon. Mary poisoned a couple of people in her family some time ago and now lives in a locked up house off the beaten path with Constance and Uncle Julian, who is old and a little dotty because he happened to consume some of Mary's arsenic sugar. They're all a little screwy. Mary goes shopping once a week to supplement the vegetables and beef that generations of Blackwoods have stored up. She carefully crosses the street at only certain points, avoids looking directly at people, and speaks to almost no one, though many of the villagers try to tease her about the arsenic incident. The novel is rather a long, slow slog after those first few sentences. For 114 pages (about half the book) we learn all about the regimented and private lives of the three family members, and about the structure of the house, and about the routine of its maintenance, and about the vegetable garden and about the tree house and about the marbles buried by the creek and -- excuse me while I pendiculate. Then Cousin Charlie comes to visit. What a bummer. He pokes around in secret places looking for hidden stashes of money. He appropriates Father's watch and chain. He casts goo-goo eyes at Constance who begins to respond. He mutters barely masked threats against Mary Katherine. He muses about putting Uncle Julian away and he stinks up the joint with his pipe. Inadvertently Mary burns off the top floor of the old house with that smoldering pipe. The villagers come to enjoy the fire and they smash everything they get their hands on before finally leaving. Uncle Julian expires of a heart attack off screen. In the end, Mary and Constance have sealed off the top floor, boarded up the windows, and never leave the house again. The penitent villagers develop a habit of leaving baskets of food at the front door, making it unnecessary to shop. Cousin Charlie is long gone. Only the two women and the cat Jonas remain, sitting silently in the dark, locked, decapitated mansion. Last line of the novel: "...Oh, Constance,' I said, 'we are so happy.'" Shirley Jackson isn't a fancy writer. There are no high-brow allusions and she works with ordinary, somewhat stripped-down prose, but that makes it all the more effective because the stuff she's writing about -- so casually, so negligently -- involves some antics that would look pretty bizarre to most outside observers. I found it worth reading, despite that 100-page longueur towards the beginning. It may not be up to her best work. I think some of her short stories are better because there, at least, we may find the occasional comedic touch.

Lately, I've been finding myself reading more books about the dark side of human nature and when I heard about We Have Always Lived in the Castle on the Books on the Nightstand podcast, I knew I would buy it. Rather than try to explain Shirley Jackson's place in the literary world, I'll quote the introduction of the book, instead: "While celebrated by reviewers throughout her career, she wasn't welcomed into any canon or school; she's been no major critic's fetish. Sterling in her craft, Jackson is prized by the writers who read her, yet it would be self-congratulatory to claim her as a writer's writer. Rather, Shirley Jackson has thrived, at publication and since, as a reader's writer." As for the book, I was smitten. We Have Always Lived in the Castle is the perfect book to curl up with on a cold and dreary day. Narrated by an 18-year old nicknamed Merricat, the book is about two sisters who live with their uncle in a large house on the edge of a small town. They cling to their routines, with each day given a different task, and their very existence relies on keeping things normal (groceries on Tuesday and Friday; checking the fence on Wednesdays; doctor visits on Saturdays). But things aren't normal, because several years before Merricat's sister, Constance, was charged and acquitted of murdering her family. In fact, the only remaining survivors of the ordeal are Merricat and their elderly Uncle Julian. At first, I thought this was going to be a whodunnit story, but it is far from it. Instead, the book is about the sisters' daily lives and nonchalant attitude about what happened. They go about their business as if your whole family being poisoned is commonplace. Cast out by the townsfolk, the sisters learned to cope by developing an almost a crazed obsession with keeping their routines. Constance never leaves the house and Merricat only ventures into town for groceries, enduring the stares and gossip. They are perfectly happy living their lives until a long-lost cousin named Charles shows up and wants to "help out." But it's clear from the beginning that there is something a bit off with Charles. He's a little too interested in where their money is being spent and disapproves of their hermit tendencies. Not long after Charles' arrival, the sisters' contented lives are thrown into disarray with deadly consequences. What I loved about this book is the authenticity of the characters. Merricat, at 18, is a child at heart. Whether this is because she's mentally delayed or is a result of not having any responsibilities, I'm not sure, but I'm guessing the latter. She's also OCD. Not only does Merricat bury and nail talismans around the property in order to protect the family, she treats each walk to the grocery store as a puzzle that needs to be completed in as few steps as possible. Constance, for her part, is the pinnacle of propriety: always polite and always willing to take in family. Charles, however, is just plain evil. He's not evil in the crazed-murderer sense, but evil in that every single action he takes is calculated and self-serving. He is the very definition of a sociopath: charming, good looking, and selfish. Lastly, there's Uncle Julian, who is slowly losing his memory and just wants to document the "last night" that everyone was alive. This is a must-read book. Not only is Shirley Jackson a literary icon in her own right, but the book is fantastic. Let me repeat that. The book is fantastic. I also highly recommend reading the introduction. I don't usually do this, but because I had never read a full-length Jackson novel I did. Knowing that Jackson was raised to value propriety above all else and was excluded from her own town after writing The Lottery adds a dimension to the book that only enhances its value. I hope you pick up a copy and love it as much as I did, and thanks Books on the Nightstand for the recommendation! Oh, and there are rumors that this might be a movie. One can hope. If only Billy Zane were 20 years younger. He'd make the perfect Charles.

Anyone who knows great writing and can see the intricate, subtle ways this novel creeps into your mind and takes up residence will realize what a masterpiece it is. Jackson is a legend of creative writing, breaking the rules and making it work. ATTN AUTHORS: Study her and learn.

When I first began reading I couldn’t quite understand where the story was going. Was this a ghost story? Is every one dead? Then I realized three characters were certainly alive. There were no ghosts about. This was indeed a strange kind of story yet I found myself continuing to read because of the peculiarities of Sisters Constance & Mary. Found out this story revolved around two sisters taking care of their uncle. Constance tends to him and Mary runs the errands. Turns out entire family besides these three were killed by being poisoned with arsenic. Constance was arrested, Mary put into an orphanage while trial went on. Constance was acquitted but never left home again due to the stares and whispers that went about the village. Mary was Constance’s protector. Always wanting to make sure that Constance was not afraid or worried. Along comes cousin Charles, his father and The girls father were brothers; however, never spoke or knew of one another due to differences between the brothers. Charles comes along acting like he will be the man in charge now. Manipulating Constance into feeling overworked. His aim was to get rid of Mary and the uncle put into a nursing home. Mary seen his ways and did everything in her power to make him leave. Mary removed all her fathers belongings so that Charles could not use them. She’d check his room always. Charles smoked a pipe and Mary could not stand the smoke or smell. Upon being in his room, she took the pipe and dumped the ashes into the garbage bin. At dinner, smoke was smelled to find the upper level completely in flames. The fire department arrives putting the fire out. As the girls look on, they also see and hear their home being looted. Windows purposely being broken, their dishware thrown around to crashing sounds. The harp being pushed over. Then on the side, there’s Charles yelling for all to hear that they started the fire. By the time the fire is out, all spectators leave. Uncle Julian died in his sleep. He was removed. Mary is angry and states she wishes she could kill them all (the spectators) and Constance says as you killed the family? Wait. What? Yes! As a reader you find out that Constance took the blame for what Mary did with the poison. As a reader you come to terms that there is definitely something “special” about Mary. They both go into the house. Mary blocks all windows so no one can see in. They close all doors to all the other rooms where the fire causes damage and the roof is gone. They live in their kitchen and Uncle Julian’s room that’s next to the kitchen. They eat. They wash clothes. They ignore all who come around. Never answering anyone’s call. The story ends with them proclaiming their love to one another. After all that, it seems they both have that specialness going on. This is why I gave a 4 rating. I don’t want to assume they just grow old inside the house and die. I wanted to know what became of them. Did they ever become in need of food? Did Constance die before Mary being the older sister? Or did they decide to die together? Did Charles ever try and come back for all the money that was there? What happened to the house and its valuables when the sisters were gone? I was shocked at finding out it was Mary who killed everyone. Although her behavior is so strange, it made sense that it was her.

Bellissimo libro e comprensibile in lingua originale anche per chi ha un b2 in inglese!

Great product. Recommended seller.

Didn't realise the book was supposed to looked very diy and a bit ripped up. Great book.

Bonne lecture

The product reached me in exactly 1.5 months, (istanbul) but the important thing is that it arrives. The company does not enter the tracking code. I think they should. The packaging and the quality of the product is very good. Thank you so much 😌🙏🏻