Small towns have their local legends. Stories that are told amongst neighbors of "that old house up the way. You know? Rumor has it the occupants died mysteriously and ever since then it's best to stay away." We Have Always Lived in the Castle tells that story from the point of view of the ostracized. Merricat and Constance Blackwood live alone in Blackwood manor with their Uncle Julian, the last surviving members of Blackwood House. Years ago, while the Blackwoods were taking their dinner, arsenic found its way into the sugar bowl, poisoning everyone except for Constance, who never takes sugar. A trial ensued and although Constance was found innocent of the murders, public opinion condemned her, and Constance stayed locked away in her home, never venturing out. 
 We Have Always Lived in the Castle was writen by Shirley Jackson, best known for her short story The Lottery, and well known misanthrope. Even if I hadn't already known that about her, reading We Have Always Lived in the Castle makes that worldview abundantly clear. The villagers are cruel to the point of fantasy, with Merricat viewing them as ghosts with grey faces rather than actual people. Taunts of "Merricat! Merricat! Would you like a cup of tea? Oh no, Constance, you'll poison me!" ring out whenever Merricat (Constance's younger sister and the narrator of our story) ever ventures out of their property for groceries. Not a single villager seems capable of empathy or kindness directed towards the Blackwood daughters, and those that are outwardly polite are only doing so out of a sense of obligation or morbid curiousity. 
 We watch as Merricat and Constance's world falls apart around them, the village growing more and more malicious towards them and far distance cousins returning to Blackwood manor disrupting the peace the three remaining Blackwood's have. Shirley Jackson's misanthropic worldview shines through, and I had a growing sense of dread as I kept reading, knowing that nothing good would ever happen to our protagonists. However, the plot isn't the main selling point of the novel. It's good, yes, but it pales in comparison to Ms. Jackson's writing. 
 "The trees around and overhead were so thick that it was always dry inside and on Sunday morning I lay there with Jonas, listening to his stories. All cat stories start with the statement: "My mother, who was the first cat, told me this," and I lay with my head close to Jonas and listened. There was no change coming, I thought here, only spring; I was wrong to be so frightened. The days would get warmer, and Uncle Julian would sit in the sun, and Constance would laugh when she worked in the garden, and it would always be the same. Jonas went on and on ("And then we sang! And then we sang!") and the leaves moved overhead and it would always be the same." 
 Merricat strongly believes in sympathetic magic, choosing magic words as safeguards, burying powerful items and using her will to wish ill upon others, and the writing itself has a magical quality. You can feel the world being woven out of words around you as the pages turn. The world around Merricat and Constance is crumbling but the story itself is strong, created with each sentence and bonded together with magic. 
 I'm unsure if I would read We Have Always Lived in the Castle again. The writing is beautiful and I love the characters but the pain they endure through the duration of the book is not my cup of poisoned tea. In the end, we do find out what actually happened to the rest of the Blackwoods but it doesn't really matter. Who did what and why is in the past, and caring about it only makes the reader as petty as the villagers who whisper and rumormonger and hurt. All that matters is Constance and Merricat and their bond to each other, protected from the evils of outside.