This shows that she isn’t wholly capable of understanding the implications, or the magnitude, of certain actions. We learn later that she was the poisoner of uncle Julian, but he simply didn’t consume enough poison to die, hence the constant reminder to be nice to him. This may be apparent from the fact that she constantly reminds herself to be nicer to uncle Julian, the fact that she is candid to about all of her feelings, even some rather dark ones, and her strange compulsions. What gives this impression is the fact that she has quite a distorted view of the world. However, she, to my knowledge, is always truthful to the reader. This is an interesting exercise because she has all the traits of an unreliable narrator. Merricat is often the narrator, and we experience the story through her perspective. Firstly, I shall explore Merricat’s mentality, and secondly I shall look at the village and her relationship with it. However, Charles has ulterior motives, his interests in fact lie in the Blackwood safe which holds the family fortunes. Further into the novel, a cousin, Charles, comes to visit them. Merricat and Constance live at home and look after their wheelchair-bound uncle, Julian. However, the ordeal has forever tarnished the family name. We learn early on that most of the family died from poisoned sugar, and that Constance was acquitted in court of the murder of her family. The family were previously disliked, but there was an event which has caused a fresh dislike for the Blackwood family. The story its self revolves around the Blackwood family home, situated in a small (and small minded, the story shows) suburban village in America. The protagonist, ‘Merricat’ invites you into the story with an open yet worrying welcome- “I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita Phalloides, the death cap mushroom. There are many ways of looking at this book.ĭespite the seeming seriousness, I assure you that it is a very readable novel. It could also be read as a story which explores the harm of psychological trauma. Another person may read it as a polemic to small minded societies. On one hand, it is a domestic horror, showcasing the life of a dysfunctional family. It’s a rich book, and I could interpret it from many angles. This becomes a matter of fact when one approaches Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in the Castle. Sometimes the greatest horror is actually real life.
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