Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” was first published in the
New Yorker in June of 1948. It’s a strange
little tale about a small town ritual that takes place every year at the end of
June. The residents gather and draw
ballots from a black box. Every family
in the village must be accounted for.
The family that draws the ballot with the black mark then has to draw
ballots for a second time; one for every member of the family. When a family member draws the black marked
ballot, that person is surrounded by the townspeople and stoned to death.
The reason for this ritual is to ensure a
good fall harvest. The tradition has
gone on for decades and it seems that the townspeople continue to do it out of
mostly out of habit, not necessity.
They’re not even sure of the details surrounding the origin of the
lottery, but they participate nonetheless.
I want to focus on this:
A person is surrounded by her (in this case, Tessie Hutchinson)
neighbors and is stoned to death. This
story ends with a person being stoned to death.
This story ends with a
person being stoned to death.
Think about it. Stoned. To. Death. That means people get to hit you with rocks
until you die. Do you know how long that
takes? To have to stand there and be
tortured like that all for the sake of a harvest…this story stuck with me for years.
One of the reasons it’s such a horrifying tale is because of the mob
mentality. The entire town participates
and in this case, Tessie’s own son is given pebbles to throw at his
mother. No one ever knows the identity
of the person who throws the rock that kills the unfortunate lottery winner and
therefore, no one ever takes responsibility.
The very idea of this whole thing gives me the
heebie-jeebies. There are all sorts of
analyses and think pieces regarding Mrs. Jackson’s nasty little narrative, but
I don’t need to be told how I should feel about it. Getting hit with one rock is enough for me,
but to be continuously pelted until your heart no longer beats…? Nope, nope, nope!
Bravo, Mrs. Jackson.
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That sounds like a horrible way to die.
ReplyDeleteIt has to be. This story still creeps me out.
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