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Lizzie
Opera della maestra del thriller nero, venerata da Stephen King, Lizzie è il primo grande romanzo delle personalità multiple. La protagonista, Elizabeth Richmond, ventitré anni, i tratti insieme eleganti e anonimi di una «vera gentildonna» della provincia americana, non sembra avere altri progetti che quello di aspettare «la propria dipartita stando il meno male possibile». Sotto un'ingannevole tranquillità, infatti, si agita in lei un disagio allarmante che si traduce in ricorrenti emicranie, vertigini e strane amnesie. Un disagio a lungo senza nome, finché un medico geniale e ostinato, il dottor Wright, dopo aver sottoposto la giovane a lunghe sedute ipnotiche, rivelerà la presenza di tre personalità sovrapposte e conflittuali: oltre alla stessa Elizabeth, l'amabile e socievole Beth e il suo negativo fotografico Betsy, «maschera crudele e deforme» che vorrebbe fagocitare e distruggere – con il suo «sorriso laido e grossolano» e i suoi modi sadici, insolenti e volgari – le altre due.
È solo l'inizio di un inabissamento che assomiglierà, più a che un percorso clinico coronato da un successo terapeutico, a una discesa amorale e spietata nelle battaglie angosciose di un Io diviso, apparentemente impossibile da ricomporre: tanto che il dottor Wright sentirà scosse le fondamenta non solo della sua dottrina, ma della sua stessa visione del rapporto tra l'identità e la realtà.
È solo l'inizio di un inabissamento che assomiglierà, più a che un percorso clinico coronato da un successo terapeutico, a una discesa amorale e spietata nelle battaglie angosciose di un Io diviso, apparentemente impossibile da ricomporre: tanto che il dottor Wright sentirà scosse le fondamenta non solo della sua dottrina, ma della sua stessa visione del rapporto tra l'identità e la realtà.
316 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1954
About the author
Shirley Jackson
344 books12.4k followersShirley Jackson was an influential American author. A popular writer in her time, her work has received increasing attention from literary critics in recent years. She has influenced such writers as Stephen King, Nigel Kneale, and Richard Matheson.
She is best known for her dystopian short story, "The Lottery" (1948), which suggests there is a deeply unsettling underside to bucolic, smalltown America. In her critical biography of Shirley Jackson, Lenemaja Friedman notes that when Shirley Jackson's story "The Lottery" was published in the June 28, 1948, issue of The New Yorker, it received a response that "no New Yorker story had ever received." Hundreds of letters poured in that were characterized by, as Jackson put it, "bewilderment, speculation and old-fashioned abuse."
Jackson's husband, the literary critic Stanley Edgar Hyman, wrote in his preface to a posthumous anthology of her work that "she consistently refused to be interviewed, to explain or promote her work in any fashion, or to take public stands and be the pundit of the Sunday supplements. She believed that her books would speak for her clearly enough over the years." Hyman insisted the darker aspects of Jackson's works were not, as some critics claimed, the product of "personal, even neurotic, fantasies", but that Jackson intended, as "a sensitive and faithful anatomy of our times, fitting symbols for our distressing world of the concentration camp and the Bomb", to mirror humanity's Cold War-era fears. Jackson may even have taken pleasure in the subversive impact of her work, as revealed by Hyman's statement that she "was always proud that the Union of South Africa banned The Lottery', and she felt that they at least understood the story".
In 1965, Jackson died of heart failure in her sleep, at her home in North Bennington Vermont, at the age of 48.
She is best known for her dystopian short story, "The Lottery" (1948), which suggests there is a deeply unsettling underside to bucolic, smalltown America. In her critical biography of Shirley Jackson, Lenemaja Friedman notes that when Shirley Jackson's story "The Lottery" was published in the June 28, 1948, issue of The New Yorker, it received a response that "no New Yorker story had ever received." Hundreds of letters poured in that were characterized by, as Jackson put it, "bewilderment, speculation and old-fashioned abuse."
Jackson's husband, the literary critic Stanley Edgar Hyman, wrote in his preface to a posthumous anthology of her work that "she consistently refused to be interviewed, to explain or promote her work in any fashion, or to take public stands and be the pundit of the Sunday supplements. She believed that her books would speak for her clearly enough over the years." Hyman insisted the darker aspects of Jackson's works were not, as some critics claimed, the product of "personal, even neurotic, fantasies", but that Jackson intended, as "a sensitive and faithful anatomy of our times, fitting symbols for our distressing world of the concentration camp and the Bomb", to mirror humanity's Cold War-era fears. Jackson may even have taken pleasure in the subversive impact of her work, as revealed by Hyman's statement that she "was always proud that the Union of South Africa banned The Lottery', and she felt that they at least understood the story".
In 1965, Jackson died of heart failure in her sleep, at her home in North Bennington Vermont, at the age of 48.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,101 reviews
October 1, 2017
The more I read by Shirley Jackson, the more of a fan I become. This is a masterful character study of a woman with multiple personalities--told (as is fitting) from multiple perspectives. Shirley Jackson once again proves herself to be the queen of creepy, the dame of disquiet. I give it 4 stars instead of 5 only to distinguish it from her greater later work: We Have Always Lived in the Castle and The Haunting of Hill House. Here, she explores many of the same themes--psychological dread, mental illness, and the like. But there are differences. I feel as if in Jackson's later work, she learned to do more with less--to write her characters without having to explain so much, which only heightened their weirdness and also, in a way, the black humor, which is largely missing in The Bird's Nest. Her writing is also tighter on the sentence level in her later work. Still, this is a wonderful novel that stands head-and-shoulders above most other fiction. Shirley Jackson is a national treasure.
October 27, 2019
2.5 stars
"Elizabeth, Beth, Betsy, and Bess, they all went together to find a bird’s nest…"
There’s no denying that Shirley Jackson was the mistress of the bizarre. This book attracted my attention immediately. What could be more disturbing than a story about a young woman with multiple personalities - especially when conveyed by the masterful genius of such a notable author as Jackson? Well, unfortunately, it could have been a lot more disquieting than it actually turned out to be. That gripping psychological suspense was initially there. And then it slowly but surely fizzled out as the novel progressed. As did my passion for turning the pages. I seriously wanted to get a true sense of what a dissociative identity would really feel like. Granted I was disoriented, but that was a product of the storytelling itself, not from a penetration into the workings of the inner mind of the protagonist, Elizabeth Richmond.
"It is not proven that Elizabeth’s personal equilibrium was set off balance by the slant of the office floor, nor could it be proven that it was Elizabeth who pushed the building off its foundations, but it is undeniable that they began to slip at about the same time."
When Elizabeth becomes truly unhinged, psychiatrist Dr. Victor Wright is summoned to her ‘rescue.’ The point of view of the novel switches frequently – from that of third-person, to that of Dr. Wright’s first person account, as well as between the varying manifestations of Elizabeth’s multiple personalities. I suspect that had Jackson left us in the third-person, the end result would have been more rewarding for me personally. Dr. Wright rubbed me the wrong way. When I encountered him for the first time I decided to give the switch in view a fighting chance. When he resurfaced again later in the book, I became resentful. I was, however, in agreement with his own evaluation of his godlike meddling with his incredibly vulnerable patient:
"We are all measured, good or evil, by the wrong we do to others; I had made a monster and turned it loose upon the world…"
I don’t know if the confusion I felt was intentional on the part of Ms. Jackson or not (although my best guess would be yes, of course she meant for me to feel this way. All of the dialogue seemed slightly ‘off’ somehow. It’s difficult to explain, so I think I’ll stop here!
I guess there’s a danger in beginning with an author’s masterpiece, as I did. I marveled at the brilliance of The Haunting of Hill House, my first foray into Jackson’s longer writing. I respected We Have Always Lived in the Castle, although it suffered a bit from the higher expectations I set after reading Hill House. I suppose The Bird’s Nest was doomed from the start. I’m still glad I read it, but I’m not sure if there’s anything left for me to explore with her work – I’m happy to take recommendations!
"The human creature at odds with its environment must change either its own protective coloration, or the shape of the world in which it lives."
"Elizabeth, Beth, Betsy, and Bess, they all went together to find a bird’s nest…"
There’s no denying that Shirley Jackson was the mistress of the bizarre. This book attracted my attention immediately. What could be more disturbing than a story about a young woman with multiple personalities - especially when conveyed by the masterful genius of such a notable author as Jackson? Well, unfortunately, it could have been a lot more disquieting than it actually turned out to be. That gripping psychological suspense was initially there. And then it slowly but surely fizzled out as the novel progressed. As did my passion for turning the pages. I seriously wanted to get a true sense of what a dissociative identity would really feel like. Granted I was disoriented, but that was a product of the storytelling itself, not from a penetration into the workings of the inner mind of the protagonist, Elizabeth Richmond.
"It is not proven that Elizabeth’s personal equilibrium was set off balance by the slant of the office floor, nor could it be proven that it was Elizabeth who pushed the building off its foundations, but it is undeniable that they began to slip at about the same time."
When Elizabeth becomes truly unhinged, psychiatrist Dr. Victor Wright is summoned to her ‘rescue.’ The point of view of the novel switches frequently – from that of third-person, to that of Dr. Wright’s first person account, as well as between the varying manifestations of Elizabeth’s multiple personalities. I suspect that had Jackson left us in the third-person, the end result would have been more rewarding for me personally. Dr. Wright rubbed me the wrong way. When I encountered him for the first time I decided to give the switch in view a fighting chance. When he resurfaced again later in the book, I became resentful. I was, however, in agreement with his own evaluation of his godlike meddling with his incredibly vulnerable patient:
"We are all measured, good or evil, by the wrong we do to others; I had made a monster and turned it loose upon the world…"
I don’t know if the confusion I felt was intentional on the part of Ms. Jackson or not (although my best guess would be yes, of course she meant for me to feel this way. All of the dialogue seemed slightly ‘off’ somehow. It’s difficult to explain, so I think I’ll stop here!
I guess there’s a danger in beginning with an author’s masterpiece, as I did. I marveled at the brilliance of The Haunting of Hill House, my first foray into Jackson’s longer writing. I respected We Have Always Lived in the Castle, although it suffered a bit from the higher expectations I set after reading Hill House. I suppose The Bird’s Nest was doomed from the start. I’m still glad I read it, but I’m not sure if there’s anything left for me to explore with her work – I’m happy to take recommendations!
"The human creature at odds with its environment must change either its own protective coloration, or the shape of the world in which it lives."
February 16, 2021
Once upon a time, there was me. The aforementioned me (hereafter referred to as I for the sake of grammar) was walking through an airport, wearing two masks and holding hand sanitizer, when I was stopped dead in my tracks.
I had thought that all airport bookstores were relegated to the likes of the dreaded Hudson Booksellers, where books are treated with equal regard to lidded plastic cups of mixed nuts and those weird containers of hard-boiled eggs. (I would ask who buys those, but I have the WORST travel karma and know I would end up seated next to the answer to that question on my next flight if I did.)
And yes, like any self-respecting bookworm, I stop into every Hudson Booksellers I pass (approx 4 per flight) to gaze lovingly at the books. But I never buy them, because they cost like $48 and if I'm paying out the nose I'll be supporting an indie, thank you very much.
But then. Like a glorious mirage. I saw it.
ONE OF MY FAVORITE BOOKSTORES...INSIDE THE AIRPORT.
So I went in, nearly burst into tears, bought this book, started it within 15 minutes, and finished it in a sitting. (I love reading on flights. I always start and finish a book, no matter how long it is, like magic.)
Anyway. I have read Shirley Jackson's two masterpieces, and I have read her collected short stories, and this was not good as any of those.
But it was still by Shirley Jackson, and therefore I enjoyed it.
Bottom line: Life is fun!
-------------------
pre-review
this is not my favorite book by shirley jackson, but it is still by shirley jackson.
review to come / 3ish stars
-------------------
currently-reading updates
is there anything like buying a book and immediately reading it in a sitting?
I had thought that all airport bookstores were relegated to the likes of the dreaded Hudson Booksellers, where books are treated with equal regard to lidded plastic cups of mixed nuts and those weird containers of hard-boiled eggs. (I would ask who buys those, but I have the WORST travel karma and know I would end up seated next to the answer to that question on my next flight if I did.)
And yes, like any self-respecting bookworm, I stop into every Hudson Booksellers I pass (approx 4 per flight) to gaze lovingly at the books. But I never buy them, because they cost like $48 and if I'm paying out the nose I'll be supporting an indie, thank you very much.
But then. Like a glorious mirage. I saw it.
ONE OF MY FAVORITE BOOKSTORES...INSIDE THE AIRPORT.
So I went in, nearly burst into tears, bought this book, started it within 15 minutes, and finished it in a sitting. (I love reading on flights. I always start and finish a book, no matter how long it is, like magic.)
Anyway. I have read Shirley Jackson's two masterpieces, and I have read her collected short stories, and this was not good as any of those.
But it was still by Shirley Jackson, and therefore I enjoyed it.
Bottom line: Life is fun!
-------------------
pre-review
this is not my favorite book by shirley jackson, but it is still by shirley jackson.
review to come / 3ish stars
-------------------
currently-reading updates
is there anything like buying a book and immediately reading it in a sitting?
January 25, 2023
Il mio primo dell’autrice, mi ha ricordato Nabokov e Carrère.
Ho riso di gusto quando Betsy e il “Dr. Wrong” si punzecchiavano durante le sedute, sicuramente R3 è la personalità più interessante delle quattro.
Ho riso di gusto quando Betsy e il “Dr. Wrong” si punzecchiavano durante le sedute, sicuramente R3 è la personalità più interessante delle quattro.
December 6, 2015
“Elizabeth, Beth, Betsy, and Bess, they all went together to find a bird's nest...”
(Image courtesy:www.deviantart.com - image by Dreimond)
Elizabeth Richmond is a troubled young woman. Ostensibly a quiet, plain orphan girl employed in an uninteresting job in a museum, she's anything but the exterior she poses to the world - because inside, Elizabeth is really four people. The quiet and mousy Elizabeth, the extremely sensitive Beth, the wickedly naughty Betsy, and the juvenile and anti-social Bess whose growth has been stunted.
Life proceeds at a sedate pace for Elizabeth and her maiden aunt Morgen (with whom she stays), except for the excruciating headaches and backaches experienced by the girl - and the mysterious threatening letters she keeps on discovering on her table at her office. Until one fine day, when Elizabeth behaves unacceptably at a dinner, and starts shouting obscenities. To make matters worse, she has no memory of this episode. This prompts Aunt Morgen to take her to Doctor Wright, a psychiatrist. Elizabeth's sessions with the doctor literally open a Pandora's Box, and lets out all the other personalities trapped inside.
We learn that Elizabeth is actually a heiress of sorts, her mother's death is somewhat mysterious and has seriously traumatised the girl (her dissociated personality perhaps originated with that incident), and that there is an unsavoury character called "Robin" in her mother's murky past. From there, however, as is the usual case with Jackson's novels, things start moving into the realm of the seriously weird. All thought to structure and linear progression is forgotten, and the story becomes kaleidoscopic in its style. There is a resolution of sorts, but ultimately it's not conclusive - perhaps the author intended it to be so.
----------------------------------------
Truth to tell, this novel underwhelmed me. Even though Jackson's narrative power and metaphoric strength (the hole in the museum wall near Elizabeth's table reaching up to its foundations is an extremely powerful one) are on display, the story ultimately did not satisfy. The shifts in narrative, though done with the purpose of providing the reader with a feel for Elizabeth's fractured personality, became too jarring after a while. Doctor Victor Wright comes across as a pompous ass: no doubt this is the author's intention, but I fear that she was too successful. After a while, it became a pain to read his ramblings.
An interesting novel, though somewhat frustrating. One suggestion - if you are new to Shirley Jackson's work, don't start with this.
March 17, 2012
Reread
The Three Faces of Eve meets Frankenstein
Thinking Jackson’s inspiration for this book had to be The Three Faces of Eve, I was puzzled about hers being published in 1954 and the other being published in 1957. Then I discovered from The Rape of Eve: The True Story Behind The Three Faces of Eve that, besides an academic paper by Eve’s doctors, a series of articles in a non-academic magazine and a documentary film about Eve all appeared in 1953. If Jackson was influenced by the story of Eve, she was a fast writer. (See Bri's comment in message 1 for Jackson's source of information.) In another twist (according to a webpage about the film version of this novel) Three Faces of Eve was rushed to publication because of the success of Jackson’s story.
The story of Elizabeth shares some traits with the nonfictional “Eve”—headaches that precede the emergence of a different personality; hypnosis used by the doctor to treat and/or reveal the different personalities; and rapid cycling of the personalities. Because this is Jackson, the rapid cycling almost reads as demonic possession, but that’s a superficial feeling. The renderings are empathetic, and Jackson is in full control.
Elizabeth’s pretentious, pompous doctor, whose first name is Victor, parallels Dr. Frankenstein with his eventual musing upon his influence and power over Elizabeth’s character (he has a favorite personality), and on the ethics of creating a “new” creature. Elizabeth’s alcoholic aunt, the other main character, is Morgen, a name Morgen despises, especially in comparison to her (deceased) pretty sister’s name, also an Elizabeth. (Morgen has also not gotten over "her" man marrying her sister.) After spotting the Frankenstein parallel, I reflected on Morgen’s name as perhaps pointing to Morgan le Fay—another woman depicted as vengeful, solitary, and—ultimately—a healer.
In contrast to the other sections, the final section, “The Naming of an Heiress,” when it focuses on Elizabeth, is lyrical, not a word usually associated with Jackson. It arrives as the perfect breath of fresh air.
The Three Faces of Eve meets Frankenstein
Thinking Jackson’s inspiration for this book had to be The Three Faces of Eve, I was puzzled about hers being published in 1954 and the other being published in 1957. Then I discovered from The Rape of Eve: The True Story Behind The Three Faces of Eve that, besides an academic paper by Eve’s doctors, a series of articles in a non-academic magazine and a documentary film about Eve all appeared in 1953. If Jackson was influenced by the story of Eve, she was a fast writer. (See Bri's comment in message 1 for Jackson's source of information.) In another twist (according to a webpage about the film version of this novel) Three Faces of Eve was rushed to publication because of the success of Jackson’s story.
The story of Elizabeth shares some traits with the nonfictional “Eve”—headaches that precede the emergence of a different personality; hypnosis used by the doctor to treat and/or reveal the different personalities; and rapid cycling of the personalities. Because this is Jackson, the rapid cycling almost reads as demonic possession, but that’s a superficial feeling. The renderings are empathetic, and Jackson is in full control.
Elizabeth’s pretentious, pompous doctor, whose first name is Victor, parallels Dr. Frankenstein with his eventual musing upon his influence and power over Elizabeth’s character (he has a favorite personality), and on the ethics of creating a “new” creature. Elizabeth’s alcoholic aunt, the other main character, is Morgen, a name Morgen despises, especially in comparison to her (deceased) pretty sister’s name, also an Elizabeth. (Morgen has also not gotten over "her" man marrying her sister.) After spotting the Frankenstein parallel, I reflected on Morgen’s name as perhaps pointing to Morgan le Fay—another woman depicted as vengeful, solitary, and—ultimately—a healer.
In contrast to the other sections, the final section, “The Naming of an Heiress,” when it focuses on Elizabeth, is lyrical, not a word usually associated with Jackson. It arrives as the perfect breath of fresh air.
December 12, 2024
Loved!!! Wish I had more by this author 😭
December 31, 2020
So I’ve been reading Shirley Jackson’s early novels and they’ve been surprisingly awful. But I know she becomes a great novelist eventually because I love The Haunting of Hill House, and her masterpiece, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, so I thought the early novels were on an upwards trajectory - The Road Through the Wall was dismal, Hangsaman was still terrible but better; The Bird’s Nest would be ok… wouldn’t it?
Unfortunately no! This is as bad as The Road Through the Wall but I would put it even lower because at least that novel had something happen at the end - it was stupid but it was something. Nothing happens at the end of The Bird’s Nest - it’s so utterly tedious from start to finish!
The novel is about a young woman called Elizabeth Richmond with multiple personality disorder. She lives with her long-suffering Aunt Morgen and she works with a Dr. Wright (whom she waggishly calls Doctor Wrong - har har!) to resolve her personalities into one.
Most of the novel is made up of discussions between Elizabeth and Wright as she cycles in and out of the personalities - Betsy is the evil one, Beth is the innocent child, Bess is… whatever, and I think there’s a fourth (it’s honestly so boring that I barely cared enough to note who was who); just talking, talking about nothing. And it’s pointless too because the multiple personalities are resolved without the doctor’s help!
Nothing else really happens. Elizabeth goes on a trip to the big city then comes back. Not much stood out to me. There’s a bit at the start where she was working at the museum that was mildly interesting - she sees a giant hole near her desk, that seems ominous, and starts receiving threatening letters. Both are clearly emblematic of her illness, once you find out she has multiple personality disorder. A sketchy old woman on the bus in the city tries to steal her money. It’s a pitifully small offering of engaging moments for an entire novel.
There were elements here that could have been interesting: the evil personality doing something truly evil, aka murder, (the worst she does is put mud in the fridge!), the inheritance money that Aunt Morgen is apparently scheming to take from Elizabeth. But Jackson doesn’t do anything with them. They’re introduced, go nowhere and ultimately mean nothing - really weak storytelling.
I’m not sure if the story was, per Jackson’s reputation today, meant to be horrific (it wasn’t anyway) but I didn’t think much of the psychology aspects either. A scene near the end - where Elizabeth is cycling in and out of personalities by the sentence - felt more farcical than anything, and the psychological resolution is feeble.
The Bird’s Nest is an unimpressive, persistently uninteresting and irritatingly dreary novel. I’ve read almost all of Shirley Jackson’s novels now and this is definitely the worst of the bunch. Avoid the early books and stick with the later, more overtly horror, novels instead.
Unfortunately no! This is as bad as The Road Through the Wall but I would put it even lower because at least that novel had something happen at the end - it was stupid but it was something. Nothing happens at the end of The Bird’s Nest - it’s so utterly tedious from start to finish!
The novel is about a young woman called Elizabeth Richmond with multiple personality disorder. She lives with her long-suffering Aunt Morgen and she works with a Dr. Wright (whom she waggishly calls Doctor Wrong - har har!) to resolve her personalities into one.
Most of the novel is made up of discussions between Elizabeth and Wright as she cycles in and out of the personalities - Betsy is the evil one, Beth is the innocent child, Bess is… whatever, and I think there’s a fourth (it’s honestly so boring that I barely cared enough to note who was who); just talking, talking about nothing. And it’s pointless too because the multiple personalities are resolved without the doctor’s help!
Nothing else really happens. Elizabeth goes on a trip to the big city then comes back. Not much stood out to me. There’s a bit at the start where she was working at the museum that was mildly interesting - she sees a giant hole near her desk, that seems ominous, and starts receiving threatening letters. Both are clearly emblematic of her illness, once you find out she has multiple personality disorder. A sketchy old woman on the bus in the city tries to steal her money. It’s a pitifully small offering of engaging moments for an entire novel.
There were elements here that could have been interesting: the evil personality doing something truly evil, aka murder, (the worst she does is put mud in the fridge!), the inheritance money that Aunt Morgen is apparently scheming to take from Elizabeth. But Jackson doesn’t do anything with them. They’re introduced, go nowhere and ultimately mean nothing - really weak storytelling.
I’m not sure if the story was, per Jackson’s reputation today, meant to be horrific (it wasn’t anyway) but I didn’t think much of the psychology aspects either. A scene near the end - where Elizabeth is cycling in and out of personalities by the sentence - felt more farcical than anything, and the psychological resolution is feeble.
The Bird’s Nest is an unimpressive, persistently uninteresting and irritatingly dreary novel. I’ve read almost all of Shirley Jackson’s novels now and this is definitely the worst of the bunch. Avoid the early books and stick with the later, more overtly horror, novels instead.
March 24, 2023
2.5 stars, rounded up.
The Bird’s Nest is a rather odd tale of multiple personality disorder, that at times seemed to veer toward demonic possession. During the 1950's it became a popular belief that a person could have multiple personalities that assumed control of his body, buried themselves deep in the psyche, surfaced without control, and which might be wholly unknown to one another. I found it interesting that this story was published three years before the book detailing the case of Chris Costner Sizemore, which was written by psychiatrists Corbett H. Thigpen and Hervey M. Cleckley, and became the movie, The Three Faces of Eve, since that would appear to be the starting point for this medical diagnosis.
In her usual style, Jackson makes the story very tense in places and a bit macabre, but in the end, it just couldn’t live up to expectations for me. I wondered sometimes what Shirley Jackson was trying to achieve, since there is at least one story thread that seems to be going in one direction and then strangely changes course at the end with a tie up that seemed irreconcilable to me with what had gone before. It went on a bit too long and I found myself wishing it would reach its climax and end.
Part of this reaction may be attributed to the fact that I find it so completely implausible that multiple personalities of this kind even exist. I am not discounting that there are mental illnesses which cause a person to change radically, we all know manic-depressives and schizophrenics have this problem of extreme mood swings and displaying vastly different personality traits; what makes it implausible to me is that it could be four distinct people living within one person and some or all of them not aware of the others. So, I grew tired of suspending my disbelief.
I’m not sorry to have read this, but it didn’t hold up to her masterful works that I have already read. There is something slightly missing and hard to nail down.
The Bird’s Nest is a rather odd tale of multiple personality disorder, that at times seemed to veer toward demonic possession. During the 1950's it became a popular belief that a person could have multiple personalities that assumed control of his body, buried themselves deep in the psyche, surfaced without control, and which might be wholly unknown to one another. I found it interesting that this story was published three years before the book detailing the case of Chris Costner Sizemore, which was written by psychiatrists Corbett H. Thigpen and Hervey M. Cleckley, and became the movie, The Three Faces of Eve, since that would appear to be the starting point for this medical diagnosis.
In her usual style, Jackson makes the story very tense in places and a bit macabre, but in the end, it just couldn’t live up to expectations for me. I wondered sometimes what Shirley Jackson was trying to achieve, since there is at least one story thread that seems to be going in one direction and then strangely changes course at the end with a tie up that seemed irreconcilable to me with what had gone before. It went on a bit too long and I found myself wishing it would reach its climax and end.
Part of this reaction may be attributed to the fact that I find it so completely implausible that multiple personalities of this kind even exist. I am not discounting that there are mental illnesses which cause a person to change radically, we all know manic-depressives and schizophrenics have this problem of extreme mood swings and displaying vastly different personality traits; what makes it implausible to me is that it could be four distinct people living within one person and some or all of them not aware of the others. So, I grew tired of suspending my disbelief.
I’m not sorry to have read this, but it didn’t hold up to her masterful works that I have already read. There is something slightly missing and hard to nail down.
August 26, 2026
... each of Miss R's varying selves, I thought, proved more disagreeable than the last -always, of course, excepting Beth, who, although weak and almost helpless, was at least possessed of a kind of winsomeness, and engaging in her very helplessness.
This early Shirley Jackson manages to be both ridiculously gripping and a bit inconsistent. There are flashes of ideas that we will meet again in other Jackson works ('the devouring of other lives for its own continuance, the radical aspect of ritual sacrifice' though it feels a bit free-floating here). More importantly, it's concerned with relationships between women, with dark domesticity, the patriarchal control of men (note the doctor's comment above as he judges his patient according to which one of her fractured selves flatters his own ego the most, finding attraction in 'her very helplessness') and the traumatic effects of Robin that remain deliberately vague, though we can make readerly guesses about his behaviour.
Right from the start there's a gloriously Jacksonian image of a wall being removed from Elizabeth's office, disrupting the smooth surface and revealing the messy and chaotic wiring usually hidden inside - a fine figure for Elizabeth's own 'chaotic wiring' in a psychological sense.
At times, this story of multiple personalities feels closer to demonic possession and I definitely had a The Exorcist vibe at one point near the start (Betsy) but the characterisation feels inconsistent as Betsy becomes a more mischievous character than she initially appears, more vulnerable and needy - though I wondered on finishing to what extent that mis-characterisation comes from Doctor Wright, another example of his lack of perception. His misogynistic failures are even spelled out later as he talks about 'my four girls', 'my little group of girls', and - revealingly - 'the doctor, who much preferred doing the talking himself, cut her short and went on'.
Beneath the story of Elizabeth is the question of what exactly occurred in her family to create this trauma (I was thinking of Hill House here) and Jackson withholds this neatly till close to the end, revealing things only sparsely, and leaving the rest to our imagination. All the same, the final chapter feels almost too peaceful and I was half expecting a shock in the last line!
Despite some flaws of construction, once I started listening to this audiobook I could barely stop (which makes it great for solo exercising!). Another macabre, gripping little tale with moments of great emotion and flashes of dark humour from Ms Jackson.
October 9, 2023
While searching for a new audiobook to listen to, I came upon one of my favorite books, The Birds Nest by Shirley Jackson. It’s been over a decade since I initially read it so I was curious to see if my feelings had changed on the story since I first read it.
The Birds Nest centers around 23-year-old Elizabeth. Elizabeth is a meek young lady who works at a museum and lives with her neurotic aunt. Elizabeth begins suffering from terrible migraines and momentary lapses in memory so her aunt takes her to a doctor and ultimately ends up seeing a psychiatrist, Dr. Wright. Soon after meeting with Dr. Wright, he discovers that Elizabeth has Dissociative Identity Disorder and she has four very different personalities dwelling in her subconscious.
The story is told with Jackson’s signature foreboding sense of dread and dark humor. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know Elizabeth as well as her other personalities, Beth, Betsey, and Bess.
As someone who works in the mental health field, I found it fascinating how Dr. Wriggt treated Elizabeth. Jackson was far advanced in writing a story about a woman's mental illness in 1954. Aside from mental illness, the story holds strong themes of nonconformity, confinement/isolation, grief, and trauma.
I've read many more of Jackson’s works since I initially read, The Birds Nest, and while this isn't my favorite by Jackson I still thoroughly enjoyed it and highly recommend reading it because it is a Shirley Jackson novel!
I listened to the audiobook version which was Narrated by Linda Jones (previously narrated in Joshua Moehling’s Where the Dead Sleep) and Mark Bramhall (previously narrated in Chris Bohjailian’s Hour of the Witch). Both did a great job reading from the alternating points of view! I highly recommend this audiobook and I can't wait to listen to more of Jackson’s audiobooks!
The Birds Nest centers around 23-year-old Elizabeth. Elizabeth is a meek young lady who works at a museum and lives with her neurotic aunt. Elizabeth begins suffering from terrible migraines and momentary lapses in memory so her aunt takes her to a doctor and ultimately ends up seeing a psychiatrist, Dr. Wright. Soon after meeting with Dr. Wright, he discovers that Elizabeth has Dissociative Identity Disorder and she has four very different personalities dwelling in her subconscious.
The story is told with Jackson’s signature foreboding sense of dread and dark humor. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know Elizabeth as well as her other personalities, Beth, Betsey, and Bess.
As someone who works in the mental health field, I found it fascinating how Dr. Wriggt treated Elizabeth. Jackson was far advanced in writing a story about a woman's mental illness in 1954. Aside from mental illness, the story holds strong themes of nonconformity, confinement/isolation, grief, and trauma.
I've read many more of Jackson’s works since I initially read, The Birds Nest, and while this isn't my favorite by Jackson I still thoroughly enjoyed it and highly recommend reading it because it is a Shirley Jackson novel!
I listened to the audiobook version which was Narrated by Linda Jones (previously narrated in Joshua Moehling’s Where the Dead Sleep) and Mark Bramhall (previously narrated in Chris Bohjailian’s Hour of the Witch). Both did a great job reading from the alternating points of view! I highly recommend this audiobook and I can't wait to listen to more of Jackson’s audiobooks!
August 13, 2019
3.5 stars.
I love Shirley Jackson's stories, but she terrifies me in the same type of manner that Robert Stack as host of Unsolved Mysteries still does to this day. They both talk about shit that I REALLY would rather not think about but yet cannot stay away from.
In this 1954 novel, we have twenty three year old Elizabeth Richmond, a quiet librarian who lives with her aunt. Nothing really exciting, right? Well, SJ pulls no punches and before the story reaches 6%, the weirdness begins.
and i can do whatever i want and you cant do anything about it and i hate you dirty lizzie and youll be sorry because now we both know youre a dirty dirty dirty..."
So it seems that Elizabeth is suffering from some type of "nervous fever" and terrible headaches and so her Aunt Morgen takes her to a doctor. Soon Elizabeth is referred to a specialist and the case becomes clear that she has multiple personalities. What ensues is multiple viewpoints from Elizabeth and her personalities as well as her doctor and aunt. The result is a story that is highly compelling but VERY unsettling.
Although I didn't enjoy it quite as much as We have Always Lived in the Castle or The Haunting of Hill House, I cannot deny that no one beats Shirley Jackson for making the goosebumps linger. Except for Robert Stack - of course!
Goodreads review published 13/08/19
I love Shirley Jackson's stories, but she terrifies me in the same type of manner that Robert Stack as host of Unsolved Mysteries still does to this day. They both talk about shit that I REALLY would rather not think about but yet cannot stay away from.
In this 1954 novel, we have twenty three year old Elizabeth Richmond, a quiet librarian who lives with her aunt. Nothing really exciting, right? Well, SJ pulls no punches and before the story reaches 6%, the weirdness begins.
and i can do whatever i want and you cant do anything about it and i hate you dirty lizzie and youll be sorry because now we both know youre a dirty dirty dirty..."
So it seems that Elizabeth is suffering from some type of "nervous fever" and terrible headaches and so her Aunt Morgen takes her to a doctor. Soon Elizabeth is referred to a specialist and the case becomes clear that she has multiple personalities. What ensues is multiple viewpoints from Elizabeth and her personalities as well as her doctor and aunt. The result is a story that is highly compelling but VERY unsettling.
Although I didn't enjoy it quite as much as We have Always Lived in the Castle or The Haunting of Hill House, I cannot deny that no one beats Shirley Jackson for making the goosebumps linger. Except for Robert Stack - of course!
Goodreads review published 13/08/19
July 22, 2018
Primo libro letto di questa autrice. Devo dire che l’idea di scrivere di un personaggio come Elizabeth affetta dal distrutto di personalità multiple è un’idea eccellente. Mi sono appassionata alla descrizione di ogni personalità come se fosse realmente un’altra persona ,con ognuna i suoi pregi e difetti . .. peccato che verso la fine abbia preso piede una confusione in cui mi sono totalmente persa . Voglio credere che la Jackson l’abbia studiata a tavolino questa confusione finale , così da lasciare il lettore un po’ interdetto e stupito !
June 13, 2014
Foreword, by Kevin Wilson
--The Bird's Nest
--The Bird's Nest
October 24, 2019
After my first (and amazing) experience reading Shirley Jackson a couple of weeks ago, I found myself really excited about reading ‘The Bird’s Nest’. A story about a girl with multiple personalities seemed like something that could tick all my (dark) boxes. If you ever watched the film “Black Swan” with Natalie Portman then you’ll easily get what kind of despairing and hallucinogenic story I was hoping to get myself into. If you haven’t watched it I can’t give you a better example as I don’t know of any other story as wickedly good as that one. I was literally ready to dive into a pool of madness and paranoia and ended up bumping my head on the bottom of a shallow and murky pond instead.
Ouchhh!!!
This was bad, and it was not only because it didn’t meet my expectations. No, this was really bad. I mean, Shirley Jackson could write and the writing was not the problem here. The story actually started really well and I believed I was in for a treat. But after the first section it all became a messy spiral indeed, but downwards into the deepest well where all the bad books (hopefully) are going to end up. I can’t even believe this novel was finished. To me this reads like a draft of what could have been a great book. Perhaps Jackson herself had multiple personalities as well and it was the bad storyteller in her writing this one. In all honesty, I managed to laugh a few times (out loud), but I’m not sure that was intended or if I have a much darker sense of humour than I thought I did. For the last fifty pages or so I couldn’t wait to finish this thing. It was driving me nuts and I even had some visions.
Visions of a desert of boredom.
Stay away from this. Go and re-watch “Black Swan” instead. Or watch it if you never did.
I’m now officially open to suggestions of good books about people getting into spirals of madness.
(I made it. I made it. I wrote this review without using words like crazy or insane).
Ouchhh!!!
This was bad, and it was not only because it didn’t meet my expectations. No, this was really bad. I mean, Shirley Jackson could write and the writing was not the problem here. The story actually started really well and I believed I was in for a treat. But after the first section it all became a messy spiral indeed, but downwards into the deepest well where all the bad books (hopefully) are going to end up. I can’t even believe this novel was finished. To me this reads like a draft of what could have been a great book. Perhaps Jackson herself had multiple personalities as well and it was the bad storyteller in her writing this one. In all honesty, I managed to laugh a few times (out loud), but I’m not sure that was intended or if I have a much darker sense of humour than I thought I did. For the last fifty pages or so I couldn’t wait to finish this thing. It was driving me nuts and I even had some visions.
Visions of a desert of boredom.
Stay away from this. Go and re-watch “Black Swan” instead. Or watch it if you never did.
I’m now officially open to suggestions of good books about people getting into spirals of madness.
(I made it. I made it. I wrote this review without using words like crazy or insane).
July 14, 2021
4.5 ⭐
Il miglior lavoro della Jackson letto finora. Un argomento talmente delicato trattato in un modo talmente sublime...Sono davvero devastata, ma al tempo stesso molto, molto colpita. È il racconto di un'estenuante lotta, la più violenta che un essere umano possa affrontare: quella interiore. Solo vincendo la guerra in maniera devastante che si può ricostruire dalle macerie la propria identità. Questo però nei migliori dei casi, perché la malattia mentale è un mostro difficile da scacciare.
Il miglior lavoro della Jackson letto finora. Un argomento talmente delicato trattato in un modo talmente sublime...Sono davvero devastata, ma al tempo stesso molto, molto colpita. È il racconto di un'estenuante lotta, la più violenta che un essere umano possa affrontare: quella interiore. Solo vincendo la guerra in maniera devastante che si può ricostruire dalle macerie la propria identità. Questo però nei migliori dei casi, perché la malattia mentale è un mostro difficile da scacciare.
November 29, 2018
Una voce fuori dal coro: sono al 75% e mi sto annoiando a morte. Se fino a circa metà ero interessata a come sarebbe andata a finire, ora sono solo interessata a finire.
"recensione" al termine, se ci arrivo da viva
------
Sono lieta di aver finito qs libro. Non di averlo letto eh, di averlo finalmente finito.
Posso dire di non averci capito un tubo? Dunque, c'è una ragazza che si rivolge a un medico perché ha sempre mal di testa, dorme male, è rigida come un baccalà. Il fenomeno cerca di aiutarla con l'ipnosi e scatena il mostro: la psiche della ragazza si frantuma in prima 2, poi 3, poi 4 personalità diverse, ognuna col suo nome: due sono lagne piagnucolose, 2 sono personaggini ribelli, la quarta, Bess, aggressiva, arrogante, avida. Simpatica come un calcio negli stinchi. Non è che le altre 3 fossero più piacevoli peraltro.
Quale trauma ha causato la frantumazione di Lizzie? Boh. Il fatto scandaloso che sua madre se la spassasse con un uomo? Forse. La morte della suddetta? Mah. E come è morta? Uccisa da Lizzie stessa? Potrebbe essere. Dalla zia invidiosa e gelosa della sua bellezza? Non lo escludo. Da un attacco di cuore, come si racconta in giro? Meglio che i vicini lo credano, vi pare? O se ne è andata a NY a fare la bella vita? La personalità Betsy ne è convinta e va a cercarla a caso in una città con qualche milione di abitanti.
E, accidenti, Robin chi diavolo sarebbe? L'amante della mamma, che piacerebbe tanto anche alla zia? Un maledetto porco che ci prova anche con Lizzie? Una creazione della testa matta di Betsy?
Da qui in poi il libro diventa un pollaio con troppi galli, o un cortile con 4 bisbetiche irascibili che litigano fra loro e starnazzano e se la prendono con la zia, con il medico, cercano di uccidersi a vicenda, frignano, lagnano e io non vedo l'ora di uscirne viva. Sì, volendo, ci trovo un tentativo di aumentare la tensione fino a un climax finale, ma io ero interessata più o meno come a vedere Mughini contro Corona.
Alla fine zia e medico che si odiavano vanno a passeggio sottobraccio dandosi del tu,
la ragazza più o meno rinsavisce, torna la brava bambina che segue la zia dai noiosissimi vicini, guarda le stelle, fa strani ragionamenti filosofici, e a me manca moltissimo la pestifera Betsy!
Urca, non è che ho di colpo capito il senso del libro?
Oppure non ho capito un tubo ma pazienza, me ne sono fatta una ragione.
"recensione" al termine, se ci arrivo da viva
------
Sono lieta di aver finito qs libro. Non di averlo letto eh, di averlo finalmente finito.
Posso dire di non averci capito un tubo? Dunque, c'è una ragazza che si rivolge a un medico perché ha sempre mal di testa, dorme male, è rigida come un baccalà. Il fenomeno cerca di aiutarla con l'ipnosi e scatena il mostro: la psiche della ragazza si frantuma in prima 2, poi 3, poi 4 personalità diverse, ognuna col suo nome: due sono lagne piagnucolose, 2 sono personaggini ribelli, la quarta, Bess, aggressiva, arrogante, avida. Simpatica come un calcio negli stinchi. Non è che le altre 3 fossero più piacevoli peraltro.
Quale trauma ha causato la frantumazione di Lizzie? Boh. Il fatto scandaloso che sua madre se la spassasse con un uomo? Forse. La morte della suddetta? Mah. E come è morta? Uccisa da Lizzie stessa? Potrebbe essere. Dalla zia invidiosa e gelosa della sua bellezza? Non lo escludo. Da un attacco di cuore, come si racconta in giro? Meglio che i vicini lo credano, vi pare? O se ne è andata a NY a fare la bella vita? La personalità Betsy ne è convinta e va a cercarla a caso in una città con qualche milione di abitanti.
E, accidenti, Robin chi diavolo sarebbe? L'amante della mamma, che piacerebbe tanto anche alla zia? Un maledetto porco che ci prova anche con Lizzie? Una creazione della testa matta di Betsy?
Da qui in poi il libro diventa un pollaio con troppi galli, o un cortile con 4 bisbetiche irascibili che litigano fra loro e starnazzano e se la prendono con la zia, con il medico, cercano di uccidersi a vicenda, frignano, lagnano e io non vedo l'ora di uscirne viva. Sì, volendo, ci trovo un tentativo di aumentare la tensione fino a un climax finale, ma io ero interessata più o meno come a vedere Mughini contro Corona.
Alla fine zia e medico che si odiavano vanno a passeggio sottobraccio dandosi del tu,
la ragazza più o meno rinsavisce, torna la brava bambina che segue la zia dai noiosissimi vicini, guarda le stelle, fa strani ragionamenti filosofici, e a me manca moltissimo la pestifera Betsy!
Urca, non è che ho di colpo capito il senso del libro?
Oppure non ho capito un tubo ma pazienza, me ne sono fatta una ragione.
Read
July 28, 2014Le stelline mi mandano in confusione. Comunque sempre la solita pazza pazza Shirley. Beddu.
February 4, 2018
Objectively speaking, and all literary merits (that I learned about to get my Ph.D.) considered, this is probably only a four-star novel. Still, I just loved it so much I must give it five and will now proceed to gush here for a few moments over its perhaps slightly subjective merits.
First of all, there is the Shirley Jackson kinda snarky utterly tragic tone in the way her third person narrator describes the novel's characters. I know it sounds like a contradiction, but the more I read Ms. Jackson's fiction the more I sense this deep core of trauma behind the very sophisticated semi-humorous character portrayals. It's been noted that the near parodies of not-so-nice characters of which her novels and stories are peppered signal her misanthropy, 'though I would call it more of a deep-seeded and oft-confirmed distrust of just how horrible people can so frequently be. Apparently the author's parents first introduced her to obnoxious behavior and then the Antisemitism that dogged her husband (to whom this novel of schizophrenia and the horrors of human solicitude is dedicated) at Bennington College, where he was a teacher, kept her awake at night, drove her to substance abuse and over eating, and eventually into an early grave.
While I'm not one to psychoanalyze an author, I find this particular tone of narration, this pathetic mix of pain and loathing in the descriptions of the characters of Jackson's fictions, unmistakably unique and I can only explain it in this way. Not only that but her beloved husband's infidelities and patriarchal treatment of her--controlling the family money even when she earned most of it, apparently depending upon her to do all of the household work (4 children!) despite the fact that her writing earned most of their living--contributed to this unique voice that seems to yearn to love but to be endlessly rebuffed by characters that will simply not behave. In this, The Bird's Nest is the most Shirley Jackson-esque of the five of her books that I've thus read.
To belabor the point, but also as an added proof to the pudding--did I use that wrong?--this particular novel's theme is both how difficult it is to be a single, whole personality in a monstrous world of boring jobs, terrible parents, flawed parental figures, and traumatic experiences as well as how difficult it is to deal with people who crack under those pressures and begin spitting back at the world in novel ways. (And, trying desperately not to spoil anything, the reversal of that process!) It's all pretty brilliantly balanced here. Victims all, oppressors all; it depends on your point of view at the moment.
Even deeper into these themes of the prickly difficulty of loving other human beings, our heroine Elizabeth's spit back at the world consists of splitting into four separate personalities, each more obnoxious than the previous, some because they are too good, or too passive, and others because they are too aggressive, grasping, or childishly wicked. (This is practically Deleuze and Guattari Anti-Oedipus territory [eighteen years before the Frenchmen came up with the idea!], a diagnosis of the twentieth century's generally schizophrenic compartmentalization of behavior--one minute I'm a daughter, then a niece, then an employee, then a guest, then a patient, then... You get the picture. We are all multitudes pretending to be singularities until parts of us drift too far apart and we come into violent conflict with ourselves and begin taking it out on others. (Does this explain mass shootings? As good an reason as any, I should think.)
Here's where the form and style of the novel come in. Objectively it's perhaps a bit clunky to go from third to first person in a novel. I'm giving it a pass here because--despite a couple of pages that cheat--it goes so well with the theme: for what is a multi-charactered novel other than an artistic cover up of an author exploring his or her own multiplicities? If Ms. Jackson had been in my writer's group I would have suggested she drop the third person sections and find a way to put them into other first person voices as well--but it would perhaps have been too tough with so many characters--the protagonist herself is already four! Still, despite using only two first person sections and going third person with the other chapters, the novel was so frequently both delightful and fucking terrifying that I often found my jaw slack with wonder. Some scenes... well, no spoilers, just, you will know them when you get to them. And the ending. Dear God, the ending... Brilliantly subtle and beyond terrifying.
First of all, there is the Shirley Jackson kinda snarky utterly tragic tone in the way her third person narrator describes the novel's characters. I know it sounds like a contradiction, but the more I read Ms. Jackson's fiction the more I sense this deep core of trauma behind the very sophisticated semi-humorous character portrayals. It's been noted that the near parodies of not-so-nice characters of which her novels and stories are peppered signal her misanthropy, 'though I would call it more of a deep-seeded and oft-confirmed distrust of just how horrible people can so frequently be. Apparently the author's parents first introduced her to obnoxious behavior and then the Antisemitism that dogged her husband (to whom this novel of schizophrenia and the horrors of human solicitude is dedicated) at Bennington College, where he was a teacher, kept her awake at night, drove her to substance abuse and over eating, and eventually into an early grave.
While I'm not one to psychoanalyze an author, I find this particular tone of narration, this pathetic mix of pain and loathing in the descriptions of the characters of Jackson's fictions, unmistakably unique and I can only explain it in this way. Not only that but her beloved husband's infidelities and patriarchal treatment of her--controlling the family money even when she earned most of it, apparently depending upon her to do all of the household work (4 children!) despite the fact that her writing earned most of their living--contributed to this unique voice that seems to yearn to love but to be endlessly rebuffed by characters that will simply not behave. In this, The Bird's Nest is the most Shirley Jackson-esque of the five of her books that I've thus read.
To belabor the point, but also as an added proof to the pudding--did I use that wrong?--this particular novel's theme is both how difficult it is to be a single, whole personality in a monstrous world of boring jobs, terrible parents, flawed parental figures, and traumatic experiences as well as how difficult it is to deal with people who crack under those pressures and begin spitting back at the world in novel ways. (And, trying desperately not to spoil anything, the reversal of that process!) It's all pretty brilliantly balanced here. Victims all, oppressors all; it depends on your point of view at the moment.
Even deeper into these themes of the prickly difficulty of loving other human beings, our heroine Elizabeth's spit back at the world consists of splitting into four separate personalities, each more obnoxious than the previous, some because they are too good, or too passive, and others because they are too aggressive, grasping, or childishly wicked. (This is practically Deleuze and Guattari Anti-Oedipus territory [eighteen years before the Frenchmen came up with the idea!], a diagnosis of the twentieth century's generally schizophrenic compartmentalization of behavior--one minute I'm a daughter, then a niece, then an employee, then a guest, then a patient, then... You get the picture. We are all multitudes pretending to be singularities until parts of us drift too far apart and we come into violent conflict with ourselves and begin taking it out on others. (Does this explain mass shootings? As good an reason as any, I should think.)
Here's where the form and style of the novel come in. Objectively it's perhaps a bit clunky to go from third to first person in a novel. I'm giving it a pass here because--despite a couple of pages that cheat--it goes so well with the theme: for what is a multi-charactered novel other than an artistic cover up of an author exploring his or her own multiplicities? If Ms. Jackson had been in my writer's group I would have suggested she drop the third person sections and find a way to put them into other first person voices as well--but it would perhaps have been too tough with so many characters--the protagonist herself is already four! Still, despite using only two first person sections and going third person with the other chapters, the novel was so frequently both delightful and fucking terrifying that I often found my jaw slack with wonder. Some scenes... well, no spoilers, just, you will know them when you get to them. And the ending. Dear God, the ending... Brilliantly subtle and beyond terrifying.
July 17, 2017
For what they had for information and treatment at the time this novel was written I'm beyond impressed. Several things in this felt like things only a person with DID would know. I'd love to know Shirley Jacksons sources on this story. Review to come
April 17, 2017
Strange and wonderful, Shirley Jackson does the odd and peculiar so well, like you are in a world completely alien to all others and where things that would be strange to you or I are normal to these characters. Although I found it a bit tough during the middle, the beginning and end gripped me and I was fascinated to see how Jackson writes about 4 separate characters in one body (a bit like 'The Three Faces of Eve). This must surely be one of her cleverest books ever, I was amazed she could continue the sharpness of her writing right until the end.
March 13, 2020
Shirley Jackson era una scrittrice profondamente politica. E Lizzie è, forse, il suo romanzo più politico. I suoi romanzi, per lo meno quelli pubblicati in Italia da Adelphi, sono caratterizzati da un ribaltamento dove l'outsider viene messo al centro. Outsider che è tale sia per motivi sociali - si pensi alle ragazze di Abbiamo sempre vissuto nel castello - sia per motivi personali - la protagonista di Hill House - o di salute - Lizzie. Ma, come mette perfettamente in luce Lizzie, questa condizione di outsider è riconducibile anche al fatto stesso che siano donne. E' questa caratteristica che, al di là di ogni dettaglio sociale, personale, mentale, porta ai margini i personaggi della sua scrittura. Allora, l'azione di riemersione che fa Jackson diventa eminentemente politica poiché offre un ribaltamento e una voce a chi ne è precluso.
Prendiamo la struttura stessa di Lizzie. Lizzie è la storia della schizofrenia di Elizabeth Richmond. Normalmente, specialmente negli anni '50, sarebbe stata una storia raccontata dal punto di vista del dottor Wright, medico curante di Lizzie, che ne ricostruisce la malattia. Ovvero: Elizabeth sarebbe stata al contempo protagonista della storia, però trattata e raccontata con uno sguardo esterno e, ovviamente, maschile. Jackson non solo rende il punto di vista del dottore uno dei punti di vista del racconto - operazione, in fondo, che si inserisce all'interno della frantumazione del punto di vista e della voce dei narratori del modernismo - ma svaluta attivamente questa sua voce. O, meglio, attraverso la voce del medico mostra come agisce la logica patriarcale nella costruzione dell'identità femminile.
Lizzie è, infatti, una storia di formazione che si premura di rispondere alla domanda fondamentale: formazione per mano di chi? C'è un momento che è illuminante su questo aspetto. Elizabeth è in cura dal dottor Wright. Le sue diverse personalità si alternano vertiginosamente: c'è Elizabeth, "nervosa, afflitta da dolori lancinanti, torturata dalla paura, oppressa dall'imbarazzo, modesta, chiusa e riservata fino alla paralisi verbale", c'è Beth, "una ragazza serena, tutta sorrisi, che rispondeva alle mie domande con sincerità e con serio raccoglimento, graziosa e rilassata", c'è Betsy, sfrenata, insolente, "dozzinale e chiassosa". Il dottor Wright non esita a dire che Beth, serena, sorrisi, graziosa e rilassata è il carattere che "Miss R. avrebbe dovuto avere in condizioni normali". Scopo del dottor Wright è "vedere Beth prendere il posto di Miss R. nel mondo e in famiglia". E' la sua identità, profondamente sottomessa e quasi infantile, che si adatta all'idea di donna che ha Wright, ovvero la società patriarcale. La decostruzione di questo ideale passa anche attraverso il ridicolo di cui si ammanta costantemente il dottore, innalzandosi quasi a Dio, con la sua pomposità e arroganza.
C'è una teoria culturale, profondamente interessante, che mostra come le caratteristiche delle donne negli horror, in particolare quelle possedute o stregonesche, siano riconducibili a una paura maschile della donna e delle sue caratteristiche, in special modo quelle che potrebbero mettere in crisi il potere patriarcale, come l'indipendenza o la sessualità. Jackson, sempre stando dichiaratamente dalla parte di Lizzie, fa emergere anche questo aspetto. E' evidente soprattutto con le personalità di Betsy e Bess.
Betsy è una ragazzina, ha sedici anni, è tanto irriverente quanto briosa. Non a caso la prima impressione che ne ricava il Dottor Wright è quella di un demonio. Betsy con la sua forza fa tremare tutto l'impianto di potere (ridicolo) del Dottore. Ma è anche una ragazzina: quindi tanto ingenua quanto determinata, tanto sperduta quanto curiosa. Ma è anche profondamente sensuale. Jackson suggerisce, senza mai dirlo esplicitamente, lasciando che sia più un'ambiguità che aleggia più che un sospetto, che Betsy abbia avuto dei rapporti con il compagno della madre. Dio solo sa quanto ne sia stata consenziente.
Bess è, invece, l'indipendenza. Che agli occhi del Dottore diventa, ovviamente, dispotismo. Bess vuole gestire le proprie finanze, vuole essere completamente indipendente dalla zia. E' questa la cosa più inquietante per la società: una donna completamente libera. Ed è infatti la personalità che provoca il maggior astio.
Lizzie, quindi, si diceva è la storia di formazione di Elizabeth. Che rende esplicita, esacerbandola, la costruzione di sé di ogni donna. In particolare, non solo della lotta fra le tante, infinite, strade che si potrebbero prendere nella definizione del proprio sé, ma anche fra le costrizioni che l'individuo subisce dall'esterno, dalla società normativa e patriarcale. In Lizzie sono fondamentali i nomi. Perché, in fondo, nominare una cosa significa darle un'esistenza. Il capitolo finale, allora, è tanto desolante quanto mesto, quando la ragazza prende come nomi quelli suggeritegli dalla zia e dal dottore, rinunciando a quelli che si era scelta da sola: "Saremo noi", afferma il dottore, "gli autori delle sue opinioni, delle sue preferenze, delle sue riflessioni; siamo in condizione, come pochissimi altri prima di noi, di ricreare per intero un essere umano, nella forma più appropriata e ragionevole, conferendogli quanto c'è di più fine ed esaltante nella nostra esperienza personale".
Prendiamo la struttura stessa di Lizzie. Lizzie è la storia della schizofrenia di Elizabeth Richmond. Normalmente, specialmente negli anni '50, sarebbe stata una storia raccontata dal punto di vista del dottor Wright, medico curante di Lizzie, che ne ricostruisce la malattia. Ovvero: Elizabeth sarebbe stata al contempo protagonista della storia, però trattata e raccontata con uno sguardo esterno e, ovviamente, maschile. Jackson non solo rende il punto di vista del dottore uno dei punti di vista del racconto - operazione, in fondo, che si inserisce all'interno della frantumazione del punto di vista e della voce dei narratori del modernismo - ma svaluta attivamente questa sua voce. O, meglio, attraverso la voce del medico mostra come agisce la logica patriarcale nella costruzione dell'identità femminile.
Lizzie è, infatti, una storia di formazione che si premura di rispondere alla domanda fondamentale: formazione per mano di chi? C'è un momento che è illuminante su questo aspetto. Elizabeth è in cura dal dottor Wright. Le sue diverse personalità si alternano vertiginosamente: c'è Elizabeth, "nervosa, afflitta da dolori lancinanti, torturata dalla paura, oppressa dall'imbarazzo, modesta, chiusa e riservata fino alla paralisi verbale", c'è Beth, "una ragazza serena, tutta sorrisi, che rispondeva alle mie domande con sincerità e con serio raccoglimento, graziosa e rilassata", c'è Betsy, sfrenata, insolente, "dozzinale e chiassosa". Il dottor Wright non esita a dire che Beth, serena, sorrisi, graziosa e rilassata è il carattere che "Miss R. avrebbe dovuto avere in condizioni normali". Scopo del dottor Wright è "vedere Beth prendere il posto di Miss R. nel mondo e in famiglia". E' la sua identità, profondamente sottomessa e quasi infantile, che si adatta all'idea di donna che ha Wright, ovvero la società patriarcale. La decostruzione di questo ideale passa anche attraverso il ridicolo di cui si ammanta costantemente il dottore, innalzandosi quasi a Dio, con la sua pomposità e arroganza.
C'è una teoria culturale, profondamente interessante, che mostra come le caratteristiche delle donne negli horror, in particolare quelle possedute o stregonesche, siano riconducibili a una paura maschile della donna e delle sue caratteristiche, in special modo quelle che potrebbero mettere in crisi il potere patriarcale, come l'indipendenza o la sessualità. Jackson, sempre stando dichiaratamente dalla parte di Lizzie, fa emergere anche questo aspetto. E' evidente soprattutto con le personalità di Betsy e Bess.
Betsy è una ragazzina, ha sedici anni, è tanto irriverente quanto briosa. Non a caso la prima impressione che ne ricava il Dottor Wright è quella di un demonio. Betsy con la sua forza fa tremare tutto l'impianto di potere (ridicolo) del Dottore. Ma è anche una ragazzina: quindi tanto ingenua quanto determinata, tanto sperduta quanto curiosa. Ma è anche profondamente sensuale. Jackson suggerisce, senza mai dirlo esplicitamente, lasciando che sia più un'ambiguità che aleggia più che un sospetto, che Betsy abbia avuto dei rapporti con il compagno della madre. Dio solo sa quanto ne sia stata consenziente.
Bess è, invece, l'indipendenza. Che agli occhi del Dottore diventa, ovviamente, dispotismo. Bess vuole gestire le proprie finanze, vuole essere completamente indipendente dalla zia. E' questa la cosa più inquietante per la società: una donna completamente libera. Ed è infatti la personalità che provoca il maggior astio.
Lizzie, quindi, si diceva è la storia di formazione di Elizabeth. Che rende esplicita, esacerbandola, la costruzione di sé di ogni donna. In particolare, non solo della lotta fra le tante, infinite, strade che si potrebbero prendere nella definizione del proprio sé, ma anche fra le costrizioni che l'individuo subisce dall'esterno, dalla società normativa e patriarcale. In Lizzie sono fondamentali i nomi. Perché, in fondo, nominare una cosa significa darle un'esistenza. Il capitolo finale, allora, è tanto desolante quanto mesto, quando la ragazza prende come nomi quelli suggeritegli dalla zia e dal dottore, rinunciando a quelli che si era scelta da sola: "Saremo noi", afferma il dottore, "gli autori delle sue opinioni, delle sue preferenze, delle sue riflessioni; siamo in condizione, come pochissimi altri prima di noi, di ricreare per intero un essere umano, nella forma più appropriata e ragionevole, conferendogli quanto c'è di più fine ed esaltante nella nostra esperienza personale".
June 23, 2023
Siete curiosi di scoprire cosa accade durante delle sedute di psicoanalisi/ipnosi? Vi incuriosiscono i racconti psicologici sulle personalità multiple? Volete farvi delle risate, ma anche preoccuparvi e spaventarvi (non eccessivamente)? Allora venite a conoscere Elisabeth Richmond e le sue personalità, in grado di farvi girare la testa e mettere alla prova ogni vostra certezza.
Un plauso a Shirley Jackson per aver creato un personaggio così interessante e sfaccettato, così realistico che viene da chiedersi se le sia capitato di conoscere o avere a che fare con casi del genere.
Ora che ho terminato i suoi libri mi sento un'orfana. Spero che Adelphi ricominci a tradurre presto qualcosa di suo.
Un plauso a Shirley Jackson per aver creato un personaggio così interessante e sfaccettato, così realistico che viene da chiedersi se le sia capitato di conoscere o avere a che fare con casi del genere.
Ora che ho terminato i suoi libri mi sento un'orfana. Spero che Adelphi ricominci a tradurre presto qualcosa di suo.
February 28, 2019
Che pasticcio!
Un libro che ti promette la tensione salvo poi consegnarti una farsa.
Si parte dignitosamente facendoci conoscere la giovane Elizabeth Richmond: scialba impiegata di un museo con una vita ordinaria nella sua routine ma triste per la mancanza di relazioni.
Elizabeth, infatti, sembra essere trasparente: nessuno la nota, nessuno se ne interessa.
Lei, tuttavia, pare non affliggersi per questo e si crogiola nel suo anonimato.
La sofferenza sembra essere solo fisica e causata da forti emicranie.
Come si suol dire, però, “l’apparenza inganna” e sotto il sottile strato di un’esistenza ordinata si cela il caos di personalità multiple e in lotta per predominare.
Entra in scena, dunque, il dottor Wright, anziano dottore pratico d’ipnosi.
Il racconto, però, assume tratti che hanno del comico fino a raggiungere, poi, le sfumature del grottesco.
Collocato sullo scaffale «no, grazie!».
Un libro che ti promette la tensione salvo poi consegnarti una farsa.
Si parte dignitosamente facendoci conoscere la giovane Elizabeth Richmond: scialba impiegata di un museo con una vita ordinaria nella sua routine ma triste per la mancanza di relazioni.
Elizabeth, infatti, sembra essere trasparente: nessuno la nota, nessuno se ne interessa.
Lei, tuttavia, pare non affliggersi per questo e si crogiola nel suo anonimato.
La sofferenza sembra essere solo fisica e causata da forti emicranie.
Come si suol dire, però, “l’apparenza inganna” e sotto il sottile strato di un’esistenza ordinata si cela il caos di personalità multiple e in lotta per predominare.
Entra in scena, dunque, il dottor Wright, anziano dottore pratico d’ipnosi.
Il racconto, però, assume tratti che hanno del comico fino a raggiungere, poi, le sfumature del grottesco.
Collocato sullo scaffale «no, grazie!».
October 9, 2007
Originally published in 1954, The Bird’s Nest is Shirley Jackson’s well-regarded tale of a young woman suffering from multiple personality disorder. There are four separate personalities within this girl (referred to by her treating physician as “Miss R."): timid, colorless Elizabeth, cloyingly sweet Beth, hyperactive prankster Betsy, and venal, greedy Bess. The novel describes Elizabeth/Beth/Betsy/Bess’s initial unraveling, eventual diagnosis, and the efforts of a Dr. Wright (with the help of Miss R's Aunt Morgan) to effect a cure, to integrate these splintered selves into a complete whole. Though I overall like the book, it has always been pretty much my least favorite of Shirley Jackson’s six novels. Part of the reason lies with the character of Dr. Wright. Jackson was a master at humorously limning pompous windbags such as he (Betsy calls him “Dr. Wrong”), but he unfortunately sucks up two largish chunks of the book, which is one too many. Initially entertaining, he eventually becomes rather tiresome company (most of the pompous windbags in Jackson’s other books have the decency to remain in supporting parts). The chapter devoted to Aunt Morgan runs a little long as well, although she’s a likable enough old broad. On the other hand, the section where Betsy runs away to New York in search of her (dead) mother is a tour-de-force; Jackson works her usual dark magic at bringing this disintegrated personality to disturbingly authentic life. I wanted to see more of the story through Betsy’s eyes: whenever she or her sister selves are center stage the book comes fully back to life. Final rating: 3 ½ out of 5 Shirley’s (appropriately enough here, one of the Shirley’s is split in two, incomplete).
October 24, 2014
Having loved, “The Haunting of Hill House,” and “We Have Always Lived in the Castle,” I was looking forward to reading more by Shirley Jackson. Published in 1954, this is Jackson’s third novel and already has several themes which recur in later books. The main character, Elizabeth Richmond, is a withdrawn and isolated young woman who acts much younger than her actual age. When we meet her, she lives with her Aunt Morgen and working in the clerical department of a museum. She hardly seems to be noticed at work and, at home, Aunt Morgen uses her mostly as a sounding board. Gradually, though, we come to realise that Elizabeth is not as simple as her calm and content demeanour suggests. Sudden outbursts, odd behaviour and terrible headaches, lead Aunt Morgen to take her to a doctor. What results is the realisation that Elizabeth has multiple personalities.
This novel is told from the point of view of Elizabeth, her various personas, her aunt and Doctor Victor Wright. This is a somewhat disturbing novel about a young woman’s descent into mental illness and is extremely well written, as you would expect from Shirley Jackson. The book was not quite as compelling as Hill House or Castle, but that would be unlikely, as both are classics of their genre. This is a very thought provoking and unsettling read, which captures Elizabeth’s attempts to cope with her past and the turmoil of her thoughts and emotions. As an example of Jackson’s early work it is of great interest and you can see her gradually honing her writing style and characters.
This novel is told from the point of view of Elizabeth, her various personas, her aunt and Doctor Victor Wright. This is a somewhat disturbing novel about a young woman’s descent into mental illness and is extremely well written, as you would expect from Shirley Jackson. The book was not quite as compelling as Hill House or Castle, but that would be unlikely, as both are classics of their genre. This is a very thought provoking and unsettling read, which captures Elizabeth’s attempts to cope with her past and the turmoil of her thoughts and emotions. As an example of Jackson’s early work it is of great interest and you can see her gradually honing her writing style and characters.
February 2, 2017
4.5/5.
May 5, 2016
Except for 'The Lottery', I suppose, I was probably more intrigued by this work of Jackson's than by what I'd read of hers in the past: things like 'The Haunting of Hill House' and 'We Have Always Lived in the Castle'. Maybe that's because I'll take human nature over the macabre - if I have to choose a preference.
The 1957 film version of this book - Hugo Haas' 'Lizzie', with (the mesmerizing) Eleanor Parker - was released the same year as the similarly themed 'The Three Faces of Eve'. I've always thought 'Lizzie' was the more convincing film - and had kept it in my mind to someday get around to the book.
It was interesting to notice how the film simplified the story (as films often must) - focusing on the basics of 'disintegrated personality'.
The film invents a major (helpful) character and removes more than half of the book (a half which would most likely be impossible to film believably).
I found myself wondering just what the talk was in the medical field - in 1954, when this book was published - about this study of the breakdown of the mind. And, of course, 'The Bird's Nest' is fiction; I don't think it pretends to be at all clinically accurate (though, for all I know, it may have been researched).
Nevertheless Jackson clearly knew how to imagine what it was like for someone to house conflicting forces inside.
As well, Jackson also allows a welcome dark humor into the book and it's peppered throughout. I believe the film version tackles three personalities inside its main character (Elizabeth). The book holds four - and, by the near-end of the novel, things come to quite a showdown.
Perhaps my favorite part of the novel was its concluding chapter - in which Elizabeth's aunt and doctor gingerly rebuild their relationship with Elizabeth, once the 'trouble' is over.
The 1957 film version of this book - Hugo Haas' 'Lizzie', with (the mesmerizing) Eleanor Parker - was released the same year as the similarly themed 'The Three Faces of Eve'. I've always thought 'Lizzie' was the more convincing film - and had kept it in my mind to someday get around to the book.
It was interesting to notice how the film simplified the story (as films often must) - focusing on the basics of 'disintegrated personality'.
The film invents a major (helpful) character and removes more than half of the book (a half which would most likely be impossible to film believably).
I found myself wondering just what the talk was in the medical field - in 1954, when this book was published - about this study of the breakdown of the mind. And, of course, 'The Bird's Nest' is fiction; I don't think it pretends to be at all clinically accurate (though, for all I know, it may have been researched).
Nevertheless Jackson clearly knew how to imagine what it was like for someone to house conflicting forces inside.
As well, Jackson also allows a welcome dark humor into the book and it's peppered throughout. I believe the film version tackles three personalities inside its main character (Elizabeth). The book holds four - and, by the near-end of the novel, things come to quite a showdown.
Perhaps my favorite part of the novel was its concluding chapter - in which Elizabeth's aunt and doctor gingerly rebuild their relationship with Elizabeth, once the 'trouble' is over.
November 5, 2018
I was amazed at what Jackson got right about DID. The first and third parts of the story were my favorites. I didn't enjoy the perspective of Doctor Wright very much. His methods and sense of ownership over Elizabeth's personality were unethical and frustrating to read. I also found the plot not very climactic. Overall, though, I enjoyed this and definitely want to read more Jackson. I'm enchanted by her succinct and haunting writing style.
November 21, 2018
La protagonista di questa storia è Elizabeth Richmond (be’ prendiamo questa affermazione con le pinze, poi capirete il perché) una ragazza poco più che ventenne senza particolari caratteristiche fisiche o di personalità che la caratterizzano. È la tipica persona che passa inosservata, che in una stanza piena di gente viene lasciata in un angolo, e che non fa nulla per cambiare questa situazione perché nemmeno si rende conto di essere ignorata. Persino i suoi colleghi di lavoro del museo potrebbero non ricordare la sua fisionomia o perché no, il suo nome.
Ma Elizabeth tutto sommato non è sola, anche se forse sarebbe meglio se lo fosse. Perché? Perché in lei risiedono altre tre personalità differenti, con caratteri e comportamenti assolutamente peculiari, e non di certo piacevoli. All’inizio, assieme al dottor Wright, pensiamo che le personalità in tutto siano tre (e le chiamiamo banalmente R1, R2 e R3):
C’era R1, nervosa, afflitta da dolori lancinanti, torturata dalla paura, oppressa dall’imbarazzo, modesta, chiusa, e riservata fino alla paralisi cerebrale. C’era R2, che forse aveva il carattere che Miss R. avrebbe potuto avere in condizioni normali: una ragazza serena, tutta sorrisi, che rispondeva alle mie domande con sincerità e con serio raccoglimento, graziosa e rilassata, senza le rughe d’ansia che solcavano il viso della prima; R2 non pativa dolori fisici, poteva solo commiserare con dolcezza i tormenti di R1. E poi c’era R3, che, in un certo senso, era R2 all’eccesso: dove R2 era rilassata, R3 era sfrenata; dove R2 era schietta, R3 era insolente; dove R2 era piacevole e graziosa, R3 era dozzinale e chiassosa. Inoltre ciascuna delle tre aveva dei tratti che la rendevano subito riconoscibile: R1, che avevo conosciuto per prima, era, come si sa, timorosa, timida e goffa al punto da risultare poco attraente; R2 era amabile e seducente; R3 era una maschera deformata dalla volgarità.
Poi la Jackson, non contenta, ci fa capire che non possiamo adagiarci sugli allori, ci fa capire che non c’è limite al peggio: le personalità sono quattro e tutte meritano un nome vero; e la “nuova arrivata” è addirittura meno piacevole dell’ultima che abbiamo scoperto.
Elizabeth la torpida, la stupida, l’inarticolata, ma in qualche modo anche la più stabile, giacché era rimasta lei a tirare avanti quando le altre si erano inabissate; Beth, dolce e sensibile; Betsy, irresponsabile e smodata; e Bess, arrogante e grossolana.
Ma Elizabeth con le sue personalità non è l’unica protagonista del libro. Personaggi altrettanto importanti sono la zia Morgen e il dottor Wright, un medico d’avanguardia per i tempi che si prenderà carico della cura di Elizabeth.
Questi personaggi, altrettanto complicati e difficili da amare quanto Elizabeth, hanno degli interi capitoli dedicati, in cui saranno proprio loro a prendere in mano le redini della narrazione.
Devo dire che leggere Lizzie non è stato così semplice come pensavo, non da subito almeno. Nelle prime 80-100 pagine ho fatto piuttosto fatica ad ingranare, mi annoiavo e non ritrovavo nemmeno lo stile della Jackson che ormai conosco grazie ad Abbiamo sempre vissuto nel castello (recensione qui) e L’incubo di Hill House (recensione qui).
Dopo questa prima difficoltà però la lettura è ingranata e così anche il mio trasporto emotivo. Shirley Jackson è riuscita ancora una volta ad incatenarmi col suo stile magnetico e folle. Esemplare è stato il capitolo narrato da Betsy, una delle personalità più forti di Lizzie, in cui l’impressione è stata quella di girare come una trottola in un vortice di follia. Ora che ci penso potrei fare il paragone con il film Disney di Alice nel paese delle meraviglie quando Alice cade nel buco sul terreno.
Nonostante conosca il disturbo dissociativo, nonostante abbia letto anche Una stanza piena di gente di Daniel Keyes (recensione qui) che affronta il disturbo in modo eccelso, Lizzie è riuscito comunque a sorprendermi, ad angosciarmi e a farmi soffrire.
Non è semplice affezionarsi e voler bene ad una persona con questo disturbo, tutt’al più se il suddetto individuo riesce ad essere amabile e gentile e subito dopo terribile e cattivo; Lizzie però è proprio questo. Lizzie è vittima e carnefice al tempo stesso e alla fine, quello che sorprende, è che ci si affeziona anche alla Lizzie carnefice, e si spera in una sua guarigione, perché se lo merita, perché avrà una o più personalità perfide, ma resta comunque umana.
«Pensavo a come ci si debba sentire a essere un prigioniero che va a morire; guardi il sole e il cielo e l’erba e gli alberi, e siccome è l’ultima volta che li vedi, sono meravigliosi, pieni di colori che non avevi mai notato, e intensi e belli ed è terribilmente difficile lasciarli. E poi mettiamo che l’esecuzione sia sospesa, e ti svegli il mattino dopo e non sei morto; riuscirai a guardare il sole e gli alberi e il cielo e pensare che sono il solito vecchio sole, il solito vecchio cielo, i soliti vecchi alberi? Che non hanno niente di speciale, che sono le stesse vecchie cose che hai visto tutti i giorni, solo perché non sei più costretto a rinunciarvi?»
Nonostante un inizio titubante e incerto Lizzie è stata una lettura piacevole (per quanto possa essere piacevole leggere di una tematica di questo tipo), ma se non avete mai letto nulla di Shirley Jackson vi sconsiglio di partire da questo libro. Se lo avessi letto prima rispetto agli altri, non so se avrei dato un’altra possibilità all’autrice, nonostante, ripeto, il libro mi sia piaciuto molto.
Ma Elizabeth tutto sommato non è sola, anche se forse sarebbe meglio se lo fosse. Perché? Perché in lei risiedono altre tre personalità differenti, con caratteri e comportamenti assolutamente peculiari, e non di certo piacevoli. All’inizio, assieme al dottor Wright, pensiamo che le personalità in tutto siano tre (e le chiamiamo banalmente R1, R2 e R3):
C’era R1, nervosa, afflitta da dolori lancinanti, torturata dalla paura, oppressa dall’imbarazzo, modesta, chiusa, e riservata fino alla paralisi cerebrale. C’era R2, che forse aveva il carattere che Miss R. avrebbe potuto avere in condizioni normali: una ragazza serena, tutta sorrisi, che rispondeva alle mie domande con sincerità e con serio raccoglimento, graziosa e rilassata, senza le rughe d’ansia che solcavano il viso della prima; R2 non pativa dolori fisici, poteva solo commiserare con dolcezza i tormenti di R1. E poi c’era R3, che, in un certo senso, era R2 all’eccesso: dove R2 era rilassata, R3 era sfrenata; dove R2 era schietta, R3 era insolente; dove R2 era piacevole e graziosa, R3 era dozzinale e chiassosa. Inoltre ciascuna delle tre aveva dei tratti che la rendevano subito riconoscibile: R1, che avevo conosciuto per prima, era, come si sa, timorosa, timida e goffa al punto da risultare poco attraente; R2 era amabile e seducente; R3 era una maschera deformata dalla volgarità.
Poi la Jackson, non contenta, ci fa capire che non possiamo adagiarci sugli allori, ci fa capire che non c’è limite al peggio: le personalità sono quattro e tutte meritano un nome vero; e la “nuova arrivata” è addirittura meno piacevole dell’ultima che abbiamo scoperto.
Elizabeth la torpida, la stupida, l’inarticolata, ma in qualche modo anche la più stabile, giacché era rimasta lei a tirare avanti quando le altre si erano inabissate; Beth, dolce e sensibile; Betsy, irresponsabile e smodata; e Bess, arrogante e grossolana.
Ma Elizabeth con le sue personalità non è l’unica protagonista del libro. Personaggi altrettanto importanti sono la zia Morgen e il dottor Wright, un medico d’avanguardia per i tempi che si prenderà carico della cura di Elizabeth.
Questi personaggi, altrettanto complicati e difficili da amare quanto Elizabeth, hanno degli interi capitoli dedicati, in cui saranno proprio loro a prendere in mano le redini della narrazione.
Devo dire che leggere Lizzie non è stato così semplice come pensavo, non da subito almeno. Nelle prime 80-100 pagine ho fatto piuttosto fatica ad ingranare, mi annoiavo e non ritrovavo nemmeno lo stile della Jackson che ormai conosco grazie ad Abbiamo sempre vissuto nel castello (recensione qui) e L’incubo di Hill House (recensione qui).
Dopo questa prima difficoltà però la lettura è ingranata e così anche il mio trasporto emotivo. Shirley Jackson è riuscita ancora una volta ad incatenarmi col suo stile magnetico e folle. Esemplare è stato il capitolo narrato da Betsy, una delle personalità più forti di Lizzie, in cui l’impressione è stata quella di girare come una trottola in un vortice di follia. Ora che ci penso potrei fare il paragone con il film Disney di Alice nel paese delle meraviglie quando Alice cade nel buco sul terreno.
Nonostante conosca il disturbo dissociativo, nonostante abbia letto anche Una stanza piena di gente di Daniel Keyes (recensione qui) che affronta il disturbo in modo eccelso, Lizzie è riuscito comunque a sorprendermi, ad angosciarmi e a farmi soffrire.
Non è semplice affezionarsi e voler bene ad una persona con questo disturbo, tutt’al più se il suddetto individuo riesce ad essere amabile e gentile e subito dopo terribile e cattivo; Lizzie però è proprio questo. Lizzie è vittima e carnefice al tempo stesso e alla fine, quello che sorprende, è che ci si affeziona anche alla Lizzie carnefice, e si spera in una sua guarigione, perché se lo merita, perché avrà una o più personalità perfide, ma resta comunque umana.
«Pensavo a come ci si debba sentire a essere un prigioniero che va a morire; guardi il sole e il cielo e l’erba e gli alberi, e siccome è l’ultima volta che li vedi, sono meravigliosi, pieni di colori che non avevi mai notato, e intensi e belli ed è terribilmente difficile lasciarli. E poi mettiamo che l’esecuzione sia sospesa, e ti svegli il mattino dopo e non sei morto; riuscirai a guardare il sole e gli alberi e il cielo e pensare che sono il solito vecchio sole, il solito vecchio cielo, i soliti vecchi alberi? Che non hanno niente di speciale, che sono le stesse vecchie cose che hai visto tutti i giorni, solo perché non sei più costretto a rinunciarvi?»
Nonostante un inizio titubante e incerto Lizzie è stata una lettura piacevole (per quanto possa essere piacevole leggere di una tematica di questo tipo), ma se non avete mai letto nulla di Shirley Jackson vi sconsiglio di partire da questo libro. Se lo avessi letto prima rispetto agli altri, non so se avrei dato un’altra possibilità all’autrice, nonostante, ripeto, il libro mi sia piaciuto molto.
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