I’ve always been a bit sniffy about the novella. As recently as June this year in my review of Adam Mars-Jones’ “Box Hill” I said; “My main quibble comes with the novella form. I end up feeling slightly short-changed”. Could this be the book which has at last caused a change of heart? Over 146 pages in the Penguin Classics paperback edition Shirley Jackson creates a superb, unsettling Gothic tale with an unreliable narrator and a series of beautifully written set-pieces which will forge this book forever in this reader’s memory.
I have never read American author Shirley Jackson (1916-65). I know her career was established by short-stories and short form novels where a surface respectability hid tales of darkness. In a superb opening we meet 18 year old Mary Katherine Blackwood (known as “Merricat”) negotiating her twice weekly trip into her local village as a kind of board game where her fate may be decided by a roll of the dice. She perceives great hostility from those she encounters before returning to her sizeable family home now occupied only by her sister and an ailing uncle who do not leave the premises. The veneer of respectability is tested when neighbours come to take tea in what is almost a parody of a familiar social situation. We know something is very awry with this family and that the girls’ parents, brother and aunt all died on the same night within this house. Merricat herself is happy with the unchanged world of isolation which has become the norm the last six years until a cousin comes to visit which makes things fall further out of kilter.
There’s a menace throughout which is stifling but that runs alongside Merricat’s often simplistic observations. Even though none of the plot twists are surprising we end up with an extraordinary work where the lines between innocence and guilt are blurred, where the narrator continually disturbs and the horror story and fairy tale lay side by side without either becoming more than subtle. I thoroughly enjoyed this and feel that I have discovered a writer who will continue to resonate strongly with me. Length-wise it was perfect and I don’t think I have often said that about a novella before.
We Have Always Lived In The Castle was first published in 1962. I read the 2009 Penguin Classics paperback edition which has an afterword by Joyce Carol Oates.
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