We Have Always Quarantined in the Castle

On Befriending Ghosts

Is every house haunted, or do they all just feel that way when you become too intimate with them for too long?

Here are the opening lines of We Have Always Lived in the Castle, by Shirley Jackson, a book which asks a version of that question:

My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cup mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead.

It's a masterclass in opening a novel, from the coyly expositional first two sentences, to the comedic jolt of the werewolf wish, to the final hammer blow that will reverberate for the rest of the story: “Everyone else in my family is dead.” That final line sets up the never-resolved uncertainty at the heart of the book: Is there anything supernatural going on here? Are we talking about ghosts?

I highly recommend checking out We Have Always Lived in the Castle. It’s short and beguiling. Without spoiling too much, I’ll say that by the end I was unsure what to do with Mary Katherine “Merricat” Blackwood and her sister Constance. But they know exactly what they want to do with themselves. Their gloomy house has been left shadowy and empty by the mysterious deaths of their parents and other family members, and yet the sisters love living there. Given the choice, the Blackwood sisters would never leave home. Safe to say they’ve made their peace with haunting.

Published in 1965, We Have Always Lived in the Castle was one of the last works written by Shirley Jackson before her early death. Coming to it now, over half a century later and in the midst of a revival of haunted house narratives of all kinds, Castle might seem quaint. Merricat and Constance are déclassé aristocrats in a grim incarnation of Everytown, USA. They live near a village that has hated and feared them since the murders. For all that the villagers might like to be rid of them, this is ultimately a story about mastering your little realm so well that you become an ineluctable part of the landscape. It’s a fantasy, of course, but it’s tantalizing one.

I find myself wishing I knew the places I live as well as the Blackwoods do. Having once been itinerate and adaptable can feel like a disadvantage when you’re locked up inside. If you’re in a place you know well, maybe one that’s been in the family a while, you’re more likely to be able to name its ghosts. If not, you run the risk of not knowing what you’re dealing with.

Getting caught off-guard might leave you like the characters in Parasite. I’ve written at length about the way haunting works in that movie, and I won’t go too deeply into it here, but check out my piece if that interests you (also RIP to The Outline). I re-watched Parasite recently, and it pairs interestingly with Shirley Jackson.

Unlike the Blackwoods, neither the cunning and poor Kim family nor the oblivious and rich Park family are prepared to be haunted. This is the case even though the mother of the Parks seems to semi-earnestly believe her son has seen a ghost in the house. Ghosts are good luck, she says, and the money has indeed been good since the encounter. Things don’t work out well for her even with all that money. You can try to convert a ghost into capital, but you won’t have much recourse if it breaches the contract.

In the end, the Parks know nothing about where they live, even though they knew how to prosper there when times were good. The Blackwoods may be unnerving, but they thrive by embracing every shadow in their house.

How do we get on such good terms with our ghosts? I wish I had a better answer. I wanted to end this piece with a point about how imagining ghosts makes us feel less alone. But it’s gotten late. Snow is coming down outside, glinting spectrally in the orange glow of the streetlight. The fire is down to its last ember. I’m going to try to stumble to bed without disturbing anyone else.

Other fun things:

— My friend Karlo Yeager Rodriguez has a phenomenal new fantasy story up at Beneath Ceaseless Skies. It’s worth reading even if fantasy isn’t your jam. “As the Shore to the Tides, So Blood Calls to Blood” is a unique take on sibling rivalry, mythology, blood magic, and the sea

— Shameless plug for my podcast, which recently did an episode on We Have Always Lived in the Castle with YA writer Emma Berquist

What I’m reading:

Still working on Nine Princes in Amber by Roger Zelazny. Soon I’ll be reading Yoko Ogawa, whom I have a feeling will get some kind of write-up in this space…

Also, please hit the comments section of these pieces if you feel like it. Will do my best to respond in a timely manner. Thanks again for subscribing!