We Have Always Lived in the Castle

We Have Always Lived in The Castle was Shirley Jackson's final novel and what a strange, haunting piece of Gothic fiction it is. This short book is narrated by Mary Katherine (Merricat) Blackwood, who, along with older sister Constance and Uncle Julian, are all that is left of the Blackwood family. They live in a big house on the outskirts of a small town in America, pursuing a very odd existence. For Constance was tried and acquitted of the murder of her whole family by poison several years previously. It is clear that she has not left the house since. Uncle Julian, a survivor of the poisoning, is unwell and rarely lucid.

The horrific story of the Blackwoods is revealed piecemeal by Merricat, an unreliable narrator. Although 18 she childlike in some ways, certainly intelligent, yet obsessive. She has her own rituals to keep strangers way - she buries objects, nails things to trees, has “magic” words she holds as safeguards.

This strange existence is disturbed by the arrival of Cousin Charles, who is after something in the Blackwood's safe. He assumes the role of “Man of the House” and Merricat instantly hates him. From there the story spirals into madness.

A delirious episode stemming from Merricat's attempt to oust the interloper Charles shifts the book into an entirely different place than the one I expected. The ending is....strange to say the least. A happy ending of sorts?

I'm not sure this is a book I “liked”, but it was certainly well worth reading. Jackson's blend of horror and matter-of-fact narration is compelling and she was certainly a gifted writer.