The yellow wallpaper E-Book

Charlotte Perkins Gilman

• Herausgeber: Librofilio
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 30

Beschreibung

"The yellow wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman is a mesmerizing and unsettling exploration of the female psyche and the stifling constraints of 19th-century society. The story is narrated by a woman suffering from what her husband and physicians diagnose as "nervous depression." She is confined to a room in her home and prescribed a treatment of complete rest.

As the protagonist spends her days in isolation, she becomes increasingly obsessed with the room's yellow wallpaper. Her descent into madness is vividly portrayed through her journal entries, revealing a haunting journey of unraveling sanity.

Gilman's writing is a poignant critique of the patriarchal norms that suppressed women's voices and autonomy during her time. The novella serves as a powerful feminist statement, highlighting the devastating effects of the "rest cure" and the silencing of women's inner struggles.

"The yellow wallpaper" is a psychological masterpiece that continues to resonate with readers, scholars, and feminists alike. It offers a chilling portrayal of the intersection of mental health, gender, and societal expectations.

Step into the haunting world of "The yellow wallpaper" and experience the eerie and thought-provoking narrative that challenges the status quo and illuminates the resilience of the human spirit. Charlotte Perkins Gilman's work remains a timeless exploration of the female experience and the importance of self-expression.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR




Charlotte Perkins Gilman (1860-1935) was a pioneering American feminist, writer, and social reformer. Born in Hartford, Connecticut, Gilman is best known for her influential works of feminist literature, including the short story "The yellow wallpaper."

Gilman's writing often addressed gender inequality and the stifling effects of the traditional roles assigned to women in society. "The yellow wallpaper" is a powerful portrayal of a woman's descent into madness as a result of the oppressive treatment and confinement she experiences at the hands of her physician husband.

In addition to her literary achievements, Gilman was an advocate for women's rights and believed in economic independence for women. She wrote extensively on topics related to feminism, including her book "Women and Economics."

Gilman's legacy as a feminist thinker and writer continues to be celebrated today, as her works remain relevant in discussions of gender equality, mental health, and social reform. She played a significant role in advancing the feminist movement and challenging societal norms of her time.

Leseprobe

The Yellow Wallpaper

Charlotte Perkins Gilman

– 1892 –

It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer.

A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house, and reach the height of romantic felicity—but that would be asking too much of fate!

Still I will proudly declare that there is something queer about it.

Else, why should it be let so cheaply? And why have stood so long untenanted?

John laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage.

John is practical in the extreme. He has no patience with faith, an intense horror of superstition, and he scoffs openly at any talk of things not to be felt and seen and put down in figures.

John is a physician, and perhaps—(I would not say it to a living soul, of course, but this is dead paper and a great relief to my mind)—perhaps that is one reason I do not get well faster.

You see, he does not believe I am sick!

And what can one do?

If a physician of high standing, and one’s own husband, assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the matter with one but temporary nervous depression—a slight hysterical tendency—what is one to do?

My brother is also a physician, and also of high standing, and he says the same thing.

So I take phosphates or phosphites—whichever it is, and tonics, and journeys, and air, and exercise, and am absolutely forbidden to “work” until I am well again.

Personally, I disagree with their ideas.

Personally, I believe that congenial work, with excitement and change, would do me good.

But what is one to do?

I did write for a while in spite of them; but it does exhaust me a good deal—having to be so sly about it, or else meet with heavy opposition.

I sometimes fancy that in my condition if I had less opposition and more society and stimulus—but John says the very worst thing I can do is to think about my condition, and I confess it always makes me feel bad.

So I will let it alone and talk about the house.

The most beautiful place! It is quite alone, standing well back from the road, quite three miles from the village. It makes me think of English places that you read about, for there are hedges and walls and gates that lock, and lots of separate little houses for the gardeners and people.

There is a delicious garden! I never saw such a garden—large and shady, full of box-bordered paths, and lined with long grape-covered arbors with seats under them.

There were greenhouses, too, but they are all broken now.

There was some legal trouble, I believe, something about the heirs and co-heirs; anyhow, the place has been empty for years.

That spoils my ghostliness, I am afraid; but I don’t care—there is something strange about the house—I can feel it.

I even said so to John one moonlight evening, but he said what I felt was a draught, and shut the window.

I get unreasonably angry with John sometimes. I’m sure I never used to be so sensitive. I think it is due to this nervous condition.

But John says if I feel so I shall neglect proper self-control; so I take pains to control myself,—before him, at least,—and that makes me very tired.

I don’t like our room a bit. I wanted one downstairs that opened on the piazza and had roses all over the window, and such pretty old-fashioned chintz hangings! but John would not hear of it.

He said there was only one window and not room for two beds, and no near room for him if he took another.

He is very careful and loving, and hardly lets me stir without special direction.