Dear Reader,
Charlotte Gray, that great Canadian author, once said: "You can kid the world, but not your sister." And she's right. Sisters understand us in a way that no one else can really broach. They have been with us through experiences that even our parents have only guessed at. When I think of my own relationship with my sister, it is a personal and significant one. She was there. She was there when I went through menarche and suddenly in unexpected pain, sobbing. She was a shoulder to cry on when the dreaded first boyfriend dumped me. She watched me walk across the stage at Brigham Young University. And I watched her walk across that same stage 9 years earlier. I watched as her best friend in high school wordlessly ended their friendship. I was her maid of honor when she married a wonderful man. The truth of the matter is, we respect each other's scars and celebrate each other's golden moments.
Shirley Jackson's "We Have Always Lived in the Castle" is the story of two sisters (young adults) who live secluded in a dilapidated mansion along with an invalid uncle. The sisters are utterly untrusted by the neighboring villagers, and perhaps with good reason. Their family (parents, a brother, and an aunt) were gruesomely poisoned at the dinner table years before the novel begins. It is a very chilling story about the nature of sisterly love and devotion, perfect for a rainy afternoon.
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I love that you wrote about this book. It is one of my all time favorites. The book is almost like The Secret Garden in reverse. What I find chilling and compelling is that you can feel a sense of danger about the sisters but you still want to protect them.
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