Why is We Have Always Lived in the Castle my favourite book?

Note: Slight spoilers and CW for a bit of discussion on anxiety/OCD.

The first time I read We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson was about five years ago and I've read it four times since.

I don't think I'm the only one who finds this psychological gothic horror a comfort novel, although I'm sure some people think that's a little weird. It's not that I have the same homicidal tendencies as Merricat (I promise), but I do share her obsessiveness, her close relationship with her cat, and her ties to nature. When I read Merricat, I don't just see her "perverse" or "neurotic" qualities as some might put it, but I see her imagination: her ability to be anywhere, to make magic out of anything, to be happy with the small details of life. I see her deep, unfailing love for the person she cares most for––her sister Constance––and her keen understanding of her cat, Jonas.

I see her close connection with the natural world and the objects around her. Merricat's frolicking alone in nature and holding everyday objects in her hand like they are immense treasures reminds me so acutely of my childhood. Her small burrow in the woods, carefully lined with leaves––a place where no one can find her––is akin to many hideouts I had growing up in the countryside.

When I woke up the early morning mists were wandering lightly along the creek, curling around my face and touching me. I lay there laughing, feeling the almost imaginary brush of the mist across my eyes, and looking up into the trees.

When I read about We Have Always Lived in the Castle online or even in the blurb in my edition, I see so much about Merricat as an unreliable narrator with a distorted perception of reality and "dark neurosis." But, likely because of my own mental health conditions, I find myself feeling at home in her mind. My own mind is often unreliable, too; luckily, unlike Merricat, I have the help I need to understand that. The thing is, though, as someone with anxiety and OCD, you spend so much time reminding yourself that you are not your thoughts and this ritual is going to hinder more than help you, that, naturally, reading a novel where the main character gets to live in her own perfect little world without fighting any of those urges is...comforting.

The novel creates a space where I get to give in to those rituals and avoidances with the result of blissful ignorance and peace, rather than what would actually result in my life if I gave in to those things. In the novel, Merricat gets to stay in her small world, shaped by rules she makes for herself. If I did this in real life, I would (and have) felt isolated, frustrated, and afraid, but getting to live it through Merricat is a comfort.

I liked my house on the moon, and I put a fireplace in it and a garden outside (what would flourish, growing on the moon? I must ask Constance) and I was going to have lunch outside in my garden on the moon. Things on the moon were very bright, and odd colors; my little house would be blue.

When people talk about whether they value the plot or the characters in books the most, I always think setting is the answer for me. I love books that take place within fairly enclosed settings. They're the types of books that I love re-reading (and the types of shows and movies that I love re-watching). We Have Always Lived in the Castle is so vivid in its descriptions of the house, the nature surrounding it, and the objects that the girls interact with. When I feel overwhelmed, Merricat's world is one that I can return to knowing every precious detail.

Slowly the pattern of our days grew, and shaped itself into a happy life.