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A review by lessidisa
We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
4.0
Livre avec effet pages coupées.
On voit très bien que ça se passe dans la même ville que La loterie, que demander de plus ? C'est très plaisant de retrouver ce cadre si particulier et cette folie est délicieuse à lire. Ça m'a aussi fait penser à Carrie et Salem's Lot.
Déroutant car on est dans le point de vue de personnages qui ont de graves problèmes psychologiques et font passer un certain autre pour un démon alors que c'est eux les démons pendant que lui essaie de se dépatouiller avec ces horreurs.
« I always hesitated, vulnerable and exposed, on the side of the road while the traffic went by. Most Main Street traffic was going through, cars and trucks passing through the village because the highway did, so the drivers hardly glanced at me; I could tell a local car by the quick ugly glance from the driver and I wondered, always, what would happen if I stepped down from the curb onto the road; would there be a quick, almost unintended swerve toward me? Just to scare me, perhaps, just to see me jump? And then the laughter, coming from all sides, from behind the blinds in the post office, from the men in front of the general store, from the women peering out of the grocery doorway, all of them watching and gloating, to see Mary Katherine Blackwood scurrying out of the way of a car. I sometimes lost two or even three turns because I waited so carefully for the road to clear in both directions before I crossed. »
On voit très bien que ça se passe dans la même ville que La loterie, que demander de plus ? C'est très plaisant de retrouver ce cadre si particulier et cette folie est délicieuse à lire. Ça m'a aussi fait penser à Carrie et Salem's Lot.
Déroutant car on est dans le point de vue de personnages qui ont de graves problèmes psychologiques et font passer un certain autre pour un démon alors que c'est eux les démons pendant que lui essaie de se dépatouiller avec ces horreurs.
« I always hesitated, vulnerable and exposed, on the side of the road while the traffic went by. Most Main Street traffic was going through, cars and trucks passing through the village because the highway did, so the drivers hardly glanced at me; I could tell a local car by the quick ugly glance from the driver and I wondered, always, what would happen if I stepped down from the curb onto the road; would there be a quick, almost unintended swerve toward me? Just to scare me, perhaps, just to see me jump? And then the laughter, coming from all sides, from behind the blinds in the post office, from the men in front of the general store, from the women peering out of the grocery doorway, all of them watching and gloating, to see Mary Katherine Blackwood scurrying out of the way of a car. I sometimes lost two or even three turns because I waited so carefully for the road to clear in both directions before I crossed. »