[.uk] We Have Always Lived in the Castle (Penguin Classics ... (ISBN 0143039970)

Amazon.com Review:
Visitors call seldom at Blackwood House. Taking tea at the scene of a multiple poisoning, with a suspected murderess as one's host, is a perilous business. For a start, the talk tends to turn to arsenic. "It happened in this very room, and we still have our dinner in here every night," explains Uncle Julian, continually rehearsing the details of the fatal family meal. "My sister made these this morning," says Merricat, politely proffering a plate of rum cakes, fresh from the poisoner's kitchen. We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Shirley Jackson's 1962 novel, is full of a macabre and sinister humor, and Merricat herself, its amiable narrator, is one of the great unhinged heroines of literature. "What place would be better for us than this?" she asks, of the neat, secluded realm she shares with her uncle and with her beloved older sister, Constance. "Who wants us, outside? The world is full of terrible people." Merricat has developed an idiosyncratic system of rules and protective magic, burying talismanic objects beneath the family estate, nailing them to trees, ritually revisiting them. She has made "a powerful taut web which never loosened, but held fast to guard us" against the distrust and hostility of neighboring villagers. Or so she believes. But at last the magic fails. A stranger arrives--cousin Charles, with his eye on the Blackwood fortune. He disturbs the sisters' careful habits, installing himself at the head of the family table, unearthing Merricat's treasures, talking privately to Constance about "normal lives" and "boy friends." Unable to drive him away by either polite or occult means, Merricat adopts more desperate methods. The result is crisis and tragedy, the revelation of a terrible secret, the convergence of the villagers upon the house, and a spectacular unleashing of collective spite. The sisters are propelled further into seclusion and solipsism, abandoning "time and the orderly pattern of our old days" in favor of an ever-narrowing circuit of ritual and shadow. They have themselves become talismans, to be alternately demonized and propitiated, darkly, with gifts. Jackson's novel emerges less as a study in eccentricity and more--like some of her other fictions--as a powerful critique of the anxious, ruthless processes involved in the maintenance of normality itself. "Poor strangers," says Merricat contentedly at last, studying trespassers from the darkness behind the barricaded Blackwood windows. "They have so much to be afraid of." --Sarah Waters

Jackson's Best:
Having gone through all of Shirley Jackson's writings that I could get my hand on, I have to say that "We Have Always Lived in the Castle" is my favorite. On one hand it is a tale of murder, poison, obsessions and isolationism. On another it is about the bond between sisters and the power of fear. Jackson does her signature twist with the end and, although you may see it coming, it is still jarring. Instead of leaving us with the twist, however, she continues on to make a comment on guilt and the aftermath of mob mentalities. What remains with you after you have finished, though, is an intense sense of family and, considering the actual premise of the novel, this is no small feat for Jackson to have accomplished. Jackson's writing is, as always, simple and believable with such an attention to detail that the characters seem to pop off the page. In my opinion, this novel is truly her best.

Fair:
Although it explores some creepy psychological depths, "We Have Always Lived In the Castle" never really rises to great storytelling - or great story, for that matter. It's a very inward, and at times repetitive, tale about a family that has, for better or for worse, become isolated from its own community. One problem is that after a short while, it generates little interest in the reader for people living in this doomed, backwards household - nor of the people living outside it.

Enjoyed it very much!:
I read this book in about two or three sittings as the pages flew by. And although I guessed the main surprise, I still loved the way it all unraveled. It made me laugh at times (especially with Uncle Julian) and it made me feel sorry for the characters at times. Merricat was an excellent narrator and I was kind of sad when the book ended. Recommended to those who like a quick read with three dimensional characters.

All-Time Favorite:
I first read "We Have Always Lived in the Castle" in moody puberty and have returned to it time and again as I approach the half-century mark. This is far and away my favorite of Shirley Jackson's books and stories and one of my favorite books ever. The writing from beginning to end is quietly brilliant and creates a vivid if strange world. Every detail tells, from the jewel-like jars of preserves in the cellar, put up by generations of Blackwood women, to the narrator's refusal to accept cream or sugar in her coffee in the village cafe, but no detail dates the book. The pace never flags. The characters are compelling. Reading this book is like taking a journey to a hidden fort in the woods with only your wildest imagination for company. A stunning example of the writer's craft and art.

A disturbing look into an evil heart:
Six years earlier, four members of the Blackwood household died after being poisoned during their dinner. Now, three surviving members of the family share the house where the murders took place. All three are highly dysfunctional, and one of them is the killer. Eighteen-year-old Mary Katherine is responsible for going into the village twice weekly in order to buy the supplies the family needs. She dreads the chore, and avoids the gawking villagers as much as possible, wishing them dead. She has a superstitious imagination, and at home she has set up a defense system of magical barricades to keep the world out and the family safe: buried treasures, items nailed to trees, magical words never to be spoken, etc. Her sister, twenty-eight-year-old Constance, is the gardener and cook, and knowledgable about all types of poison. She has already been tried and acquitted of the murders of her family, but the people of the village believe her to be guilty. She is terrified of people and is unable to go beyond the garden. Uncle Julian was also poisoned along with the other victims, but because he injested only a small amount of the poison, he survived. Now he is bound to a wheelchair and dependent on Constance to care for him. His mind dwells constantly on the events of that fateful day. He speaks about it daily, pores over newspaper clippings, and claims he is writing a book about the crime. Together, these three characters have managed to establish a dysfunctional though peaceful existence, but it is only a delicate peace. When a greedy and domineering cousin shows up, and tries to take on the role of family patriarch, the peace is broken. The state of this family, horrible from the beginning, worsens with the introduction of this outsider, and events move to a truly awful conclusion. I would categorize this book as psychological horror. Tension is present from the beginning, and strengthens steadily as the story progresses. The killer's identity is revealed late in the book, but by that point it's hardly a surprise. The full horror of this family's condition dawns gradually on the reader. The book is really a character study of a sociopathic personality: not so much frightening as creepy and disturbing.