This establishment phase of the book focusses on getting us into Merricat’s peculiar mind, the eccentric lens through which we’ll witness the story unfold. Since we follow Merricat’s train of thought, and these details are of a lesser consequence in the magical world she perceives around her, the reasons for this disdain are not yet revealed to us. As she runs errands in the village, we learn that the villagers not only harbour significant disdain for the girl, but also for the Blackwood family as a whole.
We’re already given a hint as to how her mind works when she chooses to prioritise details such as the size of her middle fingers, her desire to have been born a werewolf, and her dislike for cleaning dogs, before taking the time to mention that most of her family is dead. The novel opens with Merricat’s introduction of herself.
Not only can we learn a lot as writers from Merricat’s deconstruction, but also from an analysis of the sisters’ relationship with each other, and the outside world. But it’s her relationship with her sister, Constance, and their identical desires for a solitary life together (desires identical, yet arguably founded in a place of love for one sister, and fear for the other) that I was most drawn into.
She’s a rich tapestry of conflicting and complimentary components that we can’t help but find simultaneously endearing and horrifying. The story is a lot of things the character of Merricat is even more. In Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in the Castle, we’re granted access to Merricat’s mind to see the world through the eyes of a bizarre, funny, loving, hating, murderous teenage girl. What makes for a captivating protagonist? Motivations they pursue like a shark? Someone or something they’ll die (or kill) to protect? Are we won over by disparate internal ideals, such as tenderness and hatred in equal measure, that lead to unpredictable choices and actions? What about a dark past unpeeled layer by layer throughout the story, and an uncertain future they desperately try to stabilise through both fantastical and homicidal behaviour?įor eighteen-year-old Mary Katherine Blackwood, or ‘Merricat’ to you and me, that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
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