Genre #1: Poem

silly merricat
i must remain your most loyal servant
protect me from their evil acts
humble upon your throne

hide behind your consuming presence
you wouldn’t let them hurt me
like you did before

you’ll put death upon their tongues
and i’ll be left to pick up your mess
boil away your crystalline fault
remnants within the deathly sugar bowl

we say you like to bury things
and so you’ve buried us
silver dollars beneath the earth beneath our toes
potential rotting
wasteful space

now we lie frozen
jarred preserves upon the cellar shelf
silly merricat

 

Genre #2: Animation

Preserved- Rationale

Poetry and animation are art forms I have always shied away from. The tedious nature of animation intimidates me, to say the least, and I fear I know nothing of how to write “good” poetry. Yet, I admire each genre for their potential to convey so much within so few words. Shirley Jackson’s novel, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, functions similarly as Jackson explicitly reveals very little, yet manages to hide rich complexity within each line, leaving you craving for more. My aims were to match this concealed complexity within my own composition, stepping out of my comfort zone into the realm of animation and poetry.

 As We Have Always Lived in the Castle develops around the lives of Merricat and Constance Blackwood I wanted to center my compositions around their own perspectives as well.

Throughout the novel and narration, Merricat is very childlike in her manner and considers things like life and death and murder silly games for her own manipulation. For this reason, I chose her perspective for my animation. The animation plays out much like a trailer of the book, drawing in potential readers, without explicitly revealing details of the plot. Light elevator-esque music plays in the background, abandoning Jackson’s macabre tone and entering the playful, disturbing mind of an 18-year-old child, Mary Katherine Blackwood.

A glass jar fills with “six blue marbles:” her mother, her father, her brother, her aunt, Uncle Julian, and Constance. In the book, Merricat buried these little treasures to “make the river beyond run dry.” (p. 41) She sent her family members to rot beneath the earth those many years ago and now, even for those who remain, their lives beyond this tragedy “run dry.” Merricat, Constance, and Uncle Julian are left frozen within their “jarred” existence; Merricat does everything within her power for it to remain this way. She utters her three words of protection: “Gloucester,” “Melody,” and “Pegasus,” (p. 57) to defend them from change and so they marinate in their trauma, never escaping the endless fear of reality. We “watch them rot,” locked away in their “castle.”

“We were safe.” And then there was Charles. Charles, “the round stone” with a face scratched upon it (p. 89), knocked away Merricat’s most sacred protection, “the book nailed to the tree.” (p. 41) He threatened Merricat’s control over Constance and over their routine. He shattered their “jarred” existence. “Charles had blackened the world,” (p.94) and for this, he must pay. Merricat did not wish to escape the frozen reality she created those many years ago, and so this drove her to evil acts. She burned down their home and drove Charles away, severing what remained of their ties with the world. They made it “to the moon,” Merricat sits upon her rightful throne as queen, and “it is a very happy place.” (p. 133)

Throughout the novel, Merricat pays little attention to the true nature of her dearest sister, Constance, and so I wanted my poem to serve as a voice to her silence. It became almost a letter to Merricat, whether that be a plea for escape or merely coming to terms with their unfortunate circumstances. While writing, I hoped to explore her mixed emotions of blame, fear, desire, and love.

Constance lives in endless fear of the world. She took the blame for her family’s murder and even though she “was acquitted of murder,” (p.30) she continued to suffer from the belittling judgements of society. She could not go so far as to open the door without requiring Merricat to “protect (her) from their evil acts.” I found this to be the most peculiar aspect of their relationship. Merricat is the one to blame for the entirety of her suffering and yet Constance clings to her the most. Is this out of fear, out of shared experience, out of guilt? Her intentions remain unknown, yet the dysfunctional codependency between Merricat and Constance is clear. They depend upon each other’s worst traits to function. Merricat must foster Constance’s fear of society so that Constance will never leave her. Constance must play along with “silly Merricat’s” games so that Merricat will not succumb to more drastic measures “like (she) did before.” She “must remain (her) most loyal servant,” for what is the alternative? Either the world suffers from the “consuming presence” of Merricat or she must, and Constance cares too much for the lives of others to let such a thing happen. She assumes the role of mother and caregiver, maintaining what little control she can, dictating Merricat’s “rules” and protecting both herself and society from what Merricat may be capable of.

It is the necessity of this protection that traps Constance within her unfortunate reality. She is young and intelligent and caring and talented, full of immense potential and worth and yet she has become Merricat’s “silver dollar beneath the earth.” When there lies any hope for her escape, for her to reach her potential, Merricat strikes once again, burning the home they cherish and tidy so dearly. The flames diminish and they, alone, remain the “jarred preserves upon the cellar shelves.”