Shirley Jackson
Shirley Jackson is known to countless American schoolchildren today primarily for one story: “The Lottery,” a terrifying portrait of the brutality within us, which, when it first appeared in The New Yorker, in 1948, prompted scores of outraged letters. (“The number of people who expected Mrs. Hutchinson to win a Bendix washing machine at the end would amaze you,” Jackson wryly noted.) Yet Jackson’s history with the magazine includes fifteen stories, some of which were published after her death, in 1965, at the age of forty-eight. Born in San Francisco, Jackson settled in North Bennington, Vermont, whose small-town milieu informed much of her fiction. She wrote more than two hundred stories and six novels, including “The Haunting of Hill House” and “We Have Always Lived in the Castle,” in which she paired elements of horror and suspense with psychological acuity to depict what she called the “demon of the mind.”
Call Me Ishmael
“There was no woman, there was a corner, and a corner was no place for a woman to stand, any more than a decent house was any place for her to live.”
Garlic in Fiction
The short-story writer can catch at the reader and hold him with small things, used sparingly and with great care, to accent and emphasize.
On Fans and Fan Mail
People in books are sensible and reasonable, but outside there is no predicting what they will do.
The Man in the Woods
“Christopher had come into the forest at a crossroads, turning onto the forest road as though he had a choice, looking back once to see the other road, the one he had not chosen.”
An International Incident
Here we were, unprepared, in a sort of ambassadorial role, forced to stand or fall by our reasonably dutiful way of life.
The Lottery
“The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the directions; most of them were quiet, wetting their lips, not looking around.”
It Isn’t the Money I Mind
Now I know I just didn’t have sense enough to see the baby had talent.
Whistler’s Grandmother
“I’m going to see my grandson,” the old lady said. “He’s home on leave.”
When Things Get Dark
Mrs. Garden’s lips trembled and she put her hand up to her mouth. “I suppose everyone gets desperate sometimes,” she said.
Trial by Combat
“Emily had known for some time who was taking the things, but it was only tonight that she had decided what to do.”
On the House
“There’s plenty wrong,” the blind man said. “When people steal from a guy that doesn’t know what’s going on, there’s plenty wrong.”
Afternoon in Linen
Mrs. Lennon took the envelope and the papers and held them out to Harriet. “Will you read them or shall I?” she asked kindly.
Come Dance With Me in Ireland
His eyes were closed and he seemed barely able, with her help, to stand on his feet.
After You, My Dear Alphonse
Mrs. Wilson was just taking the gingerbread out of the oven when she heard Johnny outside talking to someone.
Call Me Ishmael
“There was no woman, there was a corner, and a corner was no place for a woman to stand, any more than a decent house was any place for her to live.”
Garlic in Fiction
The short-story writer can catch at the reader and hold him with small things, used sparingly and with great care, to accent and emphasize.
On Fans and Fan Mail
People in books are sensible and reasonable, but outside there is no predicting what they will do.
The Man in the Woods
“Christopher had come into the forest at a crossroads, turning onto the forest road as though he had a choice, looking back once to see the other road, the one he had not chosen.”
An International Incident
Here we were, unprepared, in a sort of ambassadorial role, forced to stand or fall by our reasonably dutiful way of life.
The Lottery
“The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the directions; most of them were quiet, wetting their lips, not looking around.”
It Isn’t the Money I Mind
Now I know I just didn’t have sense enough to see the baby had talent.
Whistler’s Grandmother
“I’m going to see my grandson,” the old lady said. “He’s home on leave.”
When Things Get Dark
Mrs. Garden’s lips trembled and she put her hand up to her mouth. “I suppose everyone gets desperate sometimes,” she said.
Trial by Combat
“Emily had known for some time who was taking the things, but it was only tonight that she had decided what to do.”
On the House
“There’s plenty wrong,” the blind man said. “When people steal from a guy that doesn’t know what’s going on, there’s plenty wrong.”
Afternoon in Linen
Mrs. Lennon took the envelope and the papers and held them out to Harriet. “Will you read them or shall I?” she asked kindly.
Come Dance With Me in Ireland
His eyes were closed and he seemed barely able, with her help, to stand on his feet.
After You, My Dear Alphonse
Mrs. Wilson was just taking the gingerbread out of the oven when she heard Johnny outside talking to someone.