Review: We Have Always Lived in the Castle

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I heard that Shirley Jackson wrote ghost stories without any ghosts.  To understand this I read three of her works.  

The ghosts in "We have Always Lived in the Castle" are not physical manifestations of the dead.  In fact ghosts that haunts this manor are not dead at all.

    By the time the story begins everyone in town knows has heard about how the Blackwoods died.  The whole family poisoned at dinner.  All but three members chocked and died right there at the table.  It had to be the sugar.  Uncle Julian and Constance, the only survivors, ate everything except the sugar.  Constance never takes sugar in her tea.  It could have been Merricatherin.  Poor Merricat had been banished to her room for the whole meal.  

 

    Julian was too well respected, too loved.  It couldn't have been him.  That leaves only Constance, the family's oldest daughter, to take the blame.  After all she stayed in the kitchen cooking, didn't even come out as everyone struggled to breath their last.

    Uncle Julian is haunted by the day.  He was present but can't remember enough details to know what happened.    He knows sweet, dotting Constance couldn't have done it. So he spends his days collecting, rearranging, and puzzling over newspaper articles about it trying to remember what happened, trying to figure where it all went wrong.  He even offers ghost tours to the curious, and speaks with unflinching morbid curiosity about the worst moments of his life, all in the hopes of recalling what might have happened.  

    Constance is haunted by the day that she tries to forget.    But no one will let her live a moment without remember it.  Not Uncle Julian an his binder full of newspaper clippings; not the town and their teasing.  She can't leave the house without someone reminding her of that day.  So she never leaves the house.  Especially not after being arrested and abused as she was.  No, she can't leave the house.  Not ever again.  She indulges in Merricat's fantasies and daydreams because the world according to her little sister is full of magic, and hope.   

    When a cousin Charles arrives for a visit, it seems that maybe he can help.  He's a man and family.  He has a strong voice and sturdy ideas.  She attaches to him.  But then he threatens to send Merricat away.  And he threatens to take her away from the house, from her sister.  Such talk is dangerous.  He doesn't understand that Constance is a ghost as well.  She can't leave the manor, she can't leave that day.  Better to just continue her chores and hope this goes away.   

    

     Merricat is a specter of mental illness.  She haunts the grounds of Blackwood manor with the zeal of a wild cat chasing mice.   Without the rest of the family to judge and watch over them,  Merricat is free of all but her love of Constance.  She'd do anything for Constance.  Constance plays along, Constance keeps her illusions up and her secrets.  Constance understands the rules of the game Merricat is playing, maybe even better than Merricat herself.  So Merricat would do anything to save Constance from the horror of her memory, from the dreaded ghosts that whisper nasty truths to her, from the towns people who scream hateful lies - from the strict father who made Constance cry and banished Merricat from dinner.  Anything.  

    The town itself is haunted by hollowed eyed people who have no mercy for their neighbors.  Once the Blackwoods were rich.  Their's was a fancy manor on the top of the hill.  They scent servants down to do their shopping.  Now Merricat, the strange and the restless, comes.  She doesn't speak of what happened to the rest of her family - which they've all heard about.  They never seen Constance.  And Merricat has the nerve to still have dignity even though she's as poor as the rest of them now.  They hate her for what she was.  They fear her what she is - quiet mysterious, and dwelling still in the big ugly house outside of town.  

    This story is like a cracked mirror - distorted, sharp, and fascinating to look at.  It made me reflect on my gown hosts, things I'd rather not remember.  I realized that I adored Merricat. I was even rooting for her at times.  I also realized that I related most to Constance - quietly working her-self into madness to provide an idealistic life for her only remaining charge.  Whatever happens keep up the illusion.  Fake it til you make it, even as the house starts crumbling down around you.  What good does it do to break Merricat's dillusions?  If anything it's dangerous to even try.    

    

View all my reviews