We Have Always Lived in the Castle
Published
January 1962
Publishers
UK
Penguin
US
Penguin USA
Brazil
Objetiva
Catalan
L'Altra
Croatia
Vorto Palabra
Denmark
Alhambra
France
Payot et Rivages
Germany
Festa Verlag
Greece
Metaichmio
Indonesia
Mizan
Israel
Tal-May
Italy
Adelphi
Korea
Munhakdongne
Poland
Replika
Portugal
Cavalo de Ferro
Romania
Grup Media Litera
Russia
AST
Serbia
Mcmillan
Slovenia
LUD Literatura
Spain
Minuscula
Spain (Catalan)
L'Altra Editorial
Spain (Galician)
Rinoceronte
Sweden
Mima
Sweden
Mima Forlag
Taiwan
Aquarius
Thailand
Merry Go Round
The Netherlands
Atlas Contact
Turkey
Siren
Ukraine
Zhorzh
Living in the Blackwood family home with only her sister Constance and her Uncle Julian for company, Merricat just wants to preserve their delicate way of life. But ever since Constance was acquitted of murdering the rest of the family, the world isn't leaving the Blackwoods alone. And when Cousin Charles arrives, armed with overtures of friendship and a desperate need to get into the safe, Merricat must do everything in her power to protect the remaining family.
In her final novel, Shirley Jackson displays a mastery of suspense, family relationships and black comedy.
The world of Shirley Jackson is eerie and unforgettable ... She is a true master.
A. M. Homes
A masterpiece of Gothic suspense.
Joyce Carol Oates
Her greatest book ... at once whimsical and harrowing, a miniaturist's charmingly detailed fantasy sketched inside a mausoleum ... Through depths and depths and bloodwarm depths we fall, until the surface is only an eerie gleam high above, nearly forgotten; and the deeper we sink, the deeper we want to go.
Donna Tartt
In her final novel, Shirley Jackson displays a mastery of suspense, family relationships and black comedy.
The world of Shirley Jackson is eerie and unforgettable ... She is a true master.
A. M. Homes
A masterpiece of Gothic suspense.
Joyce Carol Oates
Her greatest book ... at once whimsical and harrowing, a miniaturist's charmingly detailed fantasy sketched inside a mausoleum ... Through depths and depths and bloodwarm depths we fall, until the surface is only an eerie gleam high above, nearly forgotten; and the deeper we sink, the deeper we want to go.
Donna Tartt
