“I always thought about rot when I came toward a row of stores; I thought about burning black painful rot that ate away from inside, hurting dreadfully. I wished it on the village.”

Two sisters and their uncle live together in an old estate, isolated from the rest of the village. Our narrator, Merricat, is the only member of the family that ventures out for the shopping, and the mutual disdain as well as fascination between the people of the villagers and the inhabitants of the house could not be more evident.

Merricat seems younger than her years and is always ritualistically burying objects. She taunts her neighbours, with her her elder sister saying only “silly Merricat” in response to strange behaviours. Constance herself is afraid of visitors, and performs the role of perfect housewife as she insists on the appearance of decency.

The narration is unsettling from the outset and readers will find themselves pulled in by the mysteries of what is left unsaid. I had read The Haunting of Hill House before and was disappointed that I wasn’t as enamoured by Jackson’s work as many other readers. We Have Always Lived in the Castle however is both eerie and darkly funny, and I’m glad I gave her work another chance. Whilst I haven’t fallen in love with her yet, I think this is a book that I could come to appreciate more after a future reread.