Book Review: We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

by Shirley Jackson, Jonathan Lethem (Introduction)

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 curiousity 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 first came across this book in a list of “chilling, scary books that aren’t strictly horror/thrillers. Whoever put We Have Always Lived in the Castle on that list nailed it. It’s disturbing and bizarre even without a maniacal serial killer on the loose. Shirley Jackson has a knack of forming characters that have no glaring, fatal flaws to them, but are delicately twisted in a way that genuinely “chills” people.

    Mary Katherine Blackwood, or Merricat, is an eighteen-year-old who lives with her older sister Constance and their aging uncle Julian. From the start readers can tell Merricat is not quite normal. Even though she’s the only one who goes down to the village for library books and grocery, she hates the villagers, who hate the Blackwood sisters right back. Merricat has a habit of burying things in the grounds of her family’s huge estate, small things like silver coins, ribbons, dolls, and colored pebbles. What’s more, she nails books and watch chains to trees to safeguard the house. All these eccentric things are to protect her and her family from harm against the outside world. Whenever she feels this precarious harmony is being threatened, she shatters something so that everything would go back to normal. Merricat’s behavior smells richly of witchcraft and superstition, one of the major things that creeps readers out. Another disconcerting thing about Merricat is her childish imagination. Anyone at the age of eighteen shouldn’t run around with her cat burying objects in the ground or say things like wanting a winged horse to take them to the moon, where everything would be good.

    Merricat’s older sister Constance is a heartbreaking character. Accused (though acquitted) of her family’s murder, she is afraid of stepping outside of even the gate of their house, receiving only several calls from old family friends. A talented cook, Constance prepares the meals for her ailing old uncle who needs “light, delicate food” and tends a garden. Because she cooked the dinner that killed almost everyone in her family, she’s suspected of murder. Arsenic was put into the sugar pot and served with berries, and after everyone except Constance has put sugar on their berries, she watched them writhe and die while she rinsed out and boiled the sugar pot. All these details are incriminating enough for her to go on trial. After Constance is acquitted, she refuses to step outside of their estate. I think her sister Merricat has a subtle but powerful influence over Constance, preventing her from going into the real world. Whenever Constance expresses her slight longing for the world, Merricat is scared and “chilled,” and she always performs some voodoo glass shattering to somehow stop Constance from ever leaving, in addition to telling her she’s not ready

"We'll always be here together, won't we, Constance?"

"Don't you ever want to leave here, Merricat?"

“Where could we go?” I asked her. “What place would be better for us than this? Who wants us, outside? The world is full of terrible people.” 
During this book, I actually pity Constance because of everything that’s happened to her, i.e. Merricat, her uncle, and the housework. Even so, she’s completely dedicated to what’s remaining of her family, whipping out delicious and extravagant meals for them. Apart from her willingness to sacrifice, she also knows the truth about that fatal dinner and who’s the real murderer and covers for that person anyway. When the book ends, she’s still trapped with Merricat, who says, “we’re so happy.”

    What perplexed me most are the villagers. Why do they harbor such garden-variety, kindergarten-level animosity towards the Blackwoods? I live in a city and have never experienced the cloistering atmosphere of the suburbia, so I wonder if the villager’s brand of stupid cruelty only happens in small towns and villages instead of in big cities. The villagers are indeed senseless and childish, with minimal IQ and empathy. They even have a nursery rhyme dedicated to the sisters:

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!

    Ugh, I hate nursery rhymes so, so much. They’re all so creepy (remember The Hollow Men by T.S. Eliot?) and fit in nicely into horror stories. In this book, for example, the readers should really question who's poisoning who. Okay, now back to the stupid villagers. They loot the Blackwoods after their house burns down and surround the sisters and chant this little song at them. I mean, WHO does that?

    We Have Always Lived in the Castle is not a horror book, but it’s unsettling in its almost guileless innocence. Shirley Jackson masterfully employs a simple, clear language that further strengthens the macabre of the whole story because it allows readers to focus on the twisted monstrosity of the characters.