A few years ago I read a review of an anthology of short stories in which a story by Joyce Carol Oates was praised as "a study of loneliness worthy of Shirley Jackson." For that and many other reasons how apropos that it's Oates herself who has compiled the contents of this very welcome volume, which features Jackson's three best books in their entirety: her 1949 collection The Lottery and Other Stories, and her classic novels The Haunting of Hill House and We Have Always Lived in the Castle. Not only that, but a bumper crop of 22 of her other short stories are included as well, some of which are among her very best: "One Ordinary day, With Peanuts," "A Visit, or The Lovely House," "The Summer People," "I Know Who I Love," and "The Bus." Jackson's been my favorite author since I was a teen, and I've been really happy to see her literary rep growing again in recent years; I'm hoping this volume might do well enough that The Library of America might release a companion volume collecting her four other novels: The Road Through the Wall, The Bird's Nest, The Sundial, and my favorite of the bunch, the underrated bildungsroman, Hangsaman (I'd also throw in her book of very funny family stories, Life Among the Savages, as well as the novel she was working on at the time of her death, Come Along with Me).
At any rate what we have here is a feast of Jackson's particular brand of mystery, fear, humor, tragedy, and misanthropy, as always communicated in her clear, unmistakably Jacksonian prose, and starring such unforgettable characters as the mysterious, tragic Eleanor Vance, who goes to Hill House for a summer stay and never leaves; Mary Catherine Blackwood and her sister Constance, who together find their very peculiar happy ending in their "castle;" not to mention the nameless protagonist of "The Daemon Lover," likely whom the reviewer above was referring to with his reference to human loneliness (I would add Catherine Vincent from "I Know Who I Love" in that delineation as well); and of course the terrified Mrs. Hutchinson from Jackson's main claim to immortality, "The Lottery." There is also a veritable constellation of dreadful old bats populating these tales as antagonists, tormenting our heroines with their prudish propriety, and worse (Mrs. Montague in The Haunting of Hill House is a good example); and many, many perfectly horrible small town denizens, who play out smaller-scaled but similar versions of Jackson's famous lottery in many stories, practicing or promulgating ostracism, narrow-mindedness, racism, and just plain petty, spiteful, mean-spiritedness in general. Jackson regularly narrated the meme that human beings carry evil within them, and some of the most fearful, anxiety-provoking stories in her oeuvre disturb so because their descriptions of the sheer banality of this herd-pack mentality still ring true ("The Renegade" may yet be the cruelest of all the contes cruels I've encountered). Jackson had her lighter side as well, and in stories such as "The Night We All Had the Grippe," "Charles," and "My Life with RH Macy" her wry humor shines, though still with an almost indefinable air of something off-kilter; through light and dark, the author peered at life with a detached, slightly warped lens.
As this book clearly proves, Shirley Jackson's entire body of work exists today as an integrated whole, with a distinct vision and overall worldview that remains universal yet curiously her own; something I suppose every artist would strive for. Love this book: 5 out of 5 stars.