The Yellow Wallpaper

So this book is supposed to be written by a feminist but as a man, I enjoyed it. It shows the errors of medicine of her day. While you read this remember that the narrator is not the same person as the author. Gilman was a tough woman who could get things done. Her work is great!

It was short, it took about 3 hours, fast paced, but I'll have to reread it because I just didn't get it in the end. Was the lady crazy to begin with or did her husband drive her crazy? Was it post partpartum depression or was she really part of the wallpaper? I guess we'll never know.

This story is indicative of the time it was written, but doesn't stand the test of time. I found it quite boring and difficult to understand. You can understand it when you attend a class and discuss. I hear this is often part of high school and college English courses. I read it for an adult book club, but would not read it otherwise.

This book is a composite of short stories. The reason that I like it so much is for its progressiveness of the time it was written! There are underlined feminist theory and thought in this book, which is always important to understand and be grateful for!

Completely misleading product photo, title, and description.

1. The cover above does not match the ISBN for the actual product.
2. There is no afterword.

The Yellow Wallpaper itself is a fantastic read and I wanted to have a copy for my shelves. I spent quite awhile choosing the cover I wanted from the various options available on the store. The book I received, almost square in shape, is unpleasant to hold and the cover is nothing like the fabulous torn wallpaper pictured in the product image here.

So DO buy and read The Yellow Wallpaper. DON'T buy this version and think you're getting the version in the photo above.

UPDATE: The product photo has now been corrected. The edition in the photo is the edition I received and reviewed. It's still ugly and I still hate it and I'm still disappointed in the look and feel of it but at least now you know what you're getting.

Well first off, it's old fashion in the style of writing of course. It's an old story. While reading it becomes rather repetitive. You can figure out long before the ending of the book that she has become insane.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman was ahead of her time. These stories drew me in. Each one tells of women struggling to find their place in the world, to have a voice in the world, to be accepted for who they are, not what the world expects of them. This book is a keeper, in my opinion.

While I appreciate that the author is likening the life of a 19th century woman to that of horrendous wallpaper I just found the story to be monotonous. Like wallpaper, a woman of her time was expected to be seen and not heard. Expected to look and act a certain way and if she didn't then there must have been something wrong with her. (So it was assumed... just like she imagines something is not quite right with the wallpaper.) But the tone of the story is definitely one of a woman off her rocker; a monotonous, frantic pace. I can't say that I thought it was a fantastic read and I probably would not tell anyone I know that they should read it. Two stars for just ok.

although dealing with a feminie perspective, the title story is also a chilling account of medical practices. as a nurse, i found it fascinating. i bought this for airplane reading and it fit the bill.

What I could read of the story was great. Not sure if it was an abbreviated version, but I felt like something was missing. I didnt feel as though I downloaded the entire book and some things were missed.

The author is an early feminist and has created a collection of short stories high lighting the conditions of women of the middle class of her era. They are well written & thought provoking as many of the issues can be seen in terms of women of today. I think to todays readers it will speak of the distance women have come, but that we've in someways just replaced who we are in bondage to.

After reading this I have no words. It was interesting to understand how woman believed what her husband was doing was for the best, but it actually made her more insane. it was odd that she believed him so much that she believed she was ill. This is a messed up story.

I have not read this yet...I reviewing the fact that I thought I was purchasing a "book"...not a pamphlet....while the story may well be great/good/fair/poor and or an admix therein...16 pages does not a book make.

This has to be the worst story I've ever read, hands down. I imagine there are people who enjoy such twisted stories, but I am not one of them. I didn't like the style, and the story was an assignment for college sophomores. WHY???

I read this book after reading Odette Kelada’s ‘Drawing Sybylla’, which refers to ‘The Yellow Wall-Paper’. I’d never heard of Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and I was intrigued by the references in Ms Kelada’s novel. A descent into madness, accompanied by (perhaps even occasioned by) yellow wall-paper? I had to read this story.

It took me two weeks to read the nineteen stories in this collection. ‘The Yellow Wall-Paper’ took me into places I really didn’t want to revisit: my own experience of psychosis some years ago. And while wall-paper (yellow or otherwise) was not part of my particular psychotic journey, I found it easy to relate to Ms Gilman’s story. I’ve also observed women with postpartum psychosis: how easy the boundary between reality and psychosis can become blurred, and then disappear. How easily inanimate objects take on new (and sometimes terrifying) realities. How hard it can be to find the way back. Imagine being confined to a room for three months, for ‘health reasons’.

As I worked through ‘The Yellow Wall-Paper’, found safety back in the real world, and then read Ms Gilman’s other stories, I could observe her thoughts without being overwhelmed by my own. Some of the stories in this collection hint of new possibilities for women, for new roles. But these stories are not only confined to the restrictions placed upon women. Men are also restricted by their duties, stifled as a consequence. ‘The Yellow Wall-Paper’ is the story foremost in my consciousness because I found it so unsettling. I don’t need to reread it, but I would like to reread some of the other stories in this collection.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman (1860-1935) wrote ‘The Yellow Wall-Paper’ in 1890.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

My daughter, who has a degree in English, recommended this story to me. I loved it. It was fascinating. It is funny but I remember being fascinated with wall paper patterns as a child, in much the same way as described here, but I don't think I ever told anyone. It was written long ago, but the language seemed modern in tone and it was like it was written yesterday. Of course in other ways it is dated. The males seem "to know better" and the narrator, a female, is expected to defer to them. The tension builds and I found the story quite gripping. In some ways it reminded me of Poe or Bram Stocker. I had no idea it had to do with postpartum depression until my daughter explained it to me.

The second story in this book, at least the one I have is called "Three Thanksgivings". It is a very pleasant story about a lady growing slightly older and successfully adjusting to her circumstances. It is a very nice counterbalance to the first story, which has its dark side. I think it suggests the empowerment of a woman in a way in which the first story suggests a form of helplessness. The third story is named "The Cottagette". It is, I think, a fairly light romantic short story, painless, and perhaps suggests that a male can take on the domestic duties within a marriage. I would call it a short, pleasant read.

The next story is "Turned". I will not risk spoiling it. I will just say it is well positioned in this work as it provides a contrast from the simple pleasantness of "The Cottagette". It too has to do with male - female relationships. I liked the story very much but it is somewhat intense. The next story is "Making a Change". It deals with issues of being the mother of a new born baby as well as economic empowerment of women. Given that "The Yellow Wallpaper" deals with postpartum depression and tone deaf males, these two stories remind me a little bit of each other and I am glad they are spaced away from each other. The final story is "Mr. Peebles' Heart", a brief, pleasant story suggesting the possibilities and good that can result from female empowerment. Each of these stories can be easily read, one at at time, at single sittings. All in all, I found reading this short work a very enjoyable experience.

THE YELLOW WALLPAPER

Written in January, 1892, by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, THE YELLOW WALLPAPER is a delight and a treat to read. Truly, Gilman was a woman to beat all.

THE YELLOW WALLPAPER is one of seven short stories in this small little 70 page book. However, there's nothing small about Gilman's writing. Such candor! Such wit! Such wisdom for a lady in the late 1800's, writing as a profession -- I mean, this was something that was just not done!

THE YELLOW WALLPAPER is about a woman who is 'nervous' and depressed. Her husband, a doctor, takes her to an old home to vacation and get well. She is suffering from depression after giving birth, but back in those days, this was an unknown and undiagnosed disease. Her hubby decides she needs rest and relaxation and insists she stay in an upper floor room, the one with the yellow wallpaper. Sadly, the days and weeks of being isolated lead this poor woman down a path that has no return. Her journey into madness is so wonderfully detailed you can feel her mind slip-slidin' away. What an awesome and shocking read. Yet, Gilman handles this poor woman's sorry fate with such wit, humor, and insight. To quote -- "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 fast. You see, he does not believe I am sick!" To sum up, the poor woman 'sees' things in the wallpaper and keeps a journal of her days/nights. What an enticing read. Very haunting.

Another favorite was TURNED. A married couple have a lovely young girl as a maid. After the husband seduces her and gets her with child, he goes away on a business trip. The young maid and the missus are left alone to work things out. The way things work out for the two women -- left alone to clean up the mess -- is quite the surprise, shocking, and very, very well written. A twist of fate opens the eyes of the young wife and she is no fool, revenge could be the answer.

Gilman writes beyond her time -- all of her writing was written and published in the late 1800's and early 1900's. Women were treated like children, received no respect, and were not considered equals to men. These stories are full of fun, wit, humor, surprises, and read easily and well. All of them revolve around the relationships between men and women and are fun and fantastic, yet disturbing both in content and truth.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman was born in 1860 and died in 1935 at the age of 75. She committed suicide after learning she had incurable cancer. She was an advocate of euthanasia and killed herself with an overdose of chloroform.

Gilman was a sociologist, novelist, author of short stories, poems, fiction and non-fiction. She was also a lecturer on social reform. Her aunt was Harriet Beecher Stowe.

THE YELLOW WALLPAPER short story was written in two days but has been enjoyed by readers around the world for over 100 years. Gilman's writing technique has made this reader a fan and I will certainly read more of her work. She is a great user of the exclamation point !!! -- in fact, in YELLOW WALLPAPER that simple !!! after thoughts and sentences makes the reader aware of how quickly and surely our friend who sees things in that horrid wall covering is going insane.

I highly recommend this small book of short stories -- they will stay with you for years to come.

Thank you.

Pam

"I never saw a worse paper in my life."

The truth is that I never would have read--or even heard of--this story had it not been a review of my own psychological thriller that said it reads like a modern version or retelling of The Yellow Wallpaper.

Many readers describe this piece as creepy or a horror story, but to me, it is none of those things. It is so chillingly accurate of the transcendence into psychosis that it is a wonder that the author was not in psychosis when she read it . In fact, I would warn readers of trigger warnings all over this place. If you have a serious mental illness and are familiar with psychosis, this story has the power to send you into it without a moments notice. It is surprising to me that the theme of this story is described as 'a bout of depression'. The Yellow Wallpaper is not depression; it is Paranoid Schizophrenia. I know that because I have it.

Beyond its stark realism, its literary effect is chilling, noting a man's response to a woman's psychosis as silly fancies; specifically, a doctor in this case. The feministic value of it for its time is exceptional.

"I suppose John never was nervous in his life. He laughs at me so about this wall-paper!"

If you are not affected by a serious mental illness and want to know what your loved ones who are go through, I would highly recommend this story. If you are mentally ill yourself, I would not read it unless you have come to a point that you are thoroughly comfortable in your own mind, because if you're not, it will seriously mess you up.

"It used to disturb me at first. I thought seriously of burning the house - to reach the smell.
But now I am used to it. The only thing I can think of that it is like is the color of the paper! A yellow smell."

A book group member recommended this short novella, a story that is in large part autobiographical. The story reminded me of Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar."

The story is set in Victorian times and is narrated from the POV of a nameless young woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Her husband John is a physician who has whisked his wife away for the summer to a large, isolated mansion for rest. Her days are confined to a room covered in "yellow wallpaper", a print pattern which seems to come alive as the days pass by. With nothing left to occupy her time, despite her husband's objections, she begins journaling her thoughts in secret -- almost as an act of defiance.

Written in 1892, this a short book worth reading - 4.5/5 stars

I promise to be brutally honest with my opinion, but it should not be taken as fact. Any reader should read it for themselves, before they decide if this book has any merit or not. Do not judge this book biased solely on my opinion. If you do, you might miss out on a great read. You never know. It could happen.

1. Strong Main Character/ Female Heroine: The female character is never named in the short story. Some people may call her delusional, but I call her whimsical and imaginative. For the time in which this piece was written in, this woman was the typical "angel of the house" who could no longer function as one, so she was seen as useless, but I call her strong. She freed herself from the bounds of her society, even if she did kind of lose it in the end. 4 out of 5 stars

2. Strong Minor Characters: Her husband, John, is very strict and scientific. He is a doctor that does not see why his wife would be sick. He is clueless in a way and loving, but he is more concerned about how society will view his family than his wife's health. 4 out of 5 stars

3. The Setting: It is a short story, so I cannot fault it with taking place in only a couple of places throughout the story. 5 out of 5 stars

4. The Plot: This piece was a radical statement at the time, where the rest cure was being prescribed to women as a cure-all for their "pretend" illnesses. In fact, the rest cure turned many women insane and some even died from boredom. This is a must-read for feminists everywhere. 5 out of 5 stars

Overall, 4 1/2 stars.

I promise to be brutally honest with my opinion, but it should not be taken as fact. Any reader should read it for themselves, before they decide if this book has any merit or not. Do not judge this book biased solely on my opinion. If you do, you might miss out on a great read. You never know. It could happen.

1. Strong Main Character/ Female Heroine: The female character is never named in the short story. Some people may call her delusional, but I call her whimsical and imaginative. For the time in which this piece was written in, this woman was the typical "angel of the house" who could no longer function as one, so she was seen as useless, but I call her strong. She freed herself from the bounds of her society, even if she did kind of lose it in the end. 4 out of 5 stars

2. Strong Minor Characters: Her husband, John, is very strict and scientific. He is a doctor that does not see why his wife would be sick. He is clueless in a way and loving, but he is more concerned about how society will view his family than his wife's health. 4 out of 5 stars

3. The Setting: It is a short story, so I cannot fault it with taking place in only a couple of places throughout the story. 5 out of 5 stars

4. The Plot: This piece was a radical statement at the time, where the rest cure was being prescribed to women as a cure-all for their "pretend" illnesses. In fact, the rest cure turned many women insane and some even died from boredom. This is a must-read for feminists everywhere. 5 out of 5 stars

Overall, 4 1/2 stars.

I am totally stunned by this book. It let's you see and feel how a person undergoing depression would feel. They can't make others believe what's going on inside them and have to face the harsh experience themselves. That is exactly what the title character in this book goes through. Her husband, John, who is a physician always calms her down with soothing words and reassures her she is alright and getting better, when she herself knows she is not. But she is not able to convince him for fear of his reaction.

The main highlight in this book, as suggested by the title, is the yellow wallpaper of her room, at the summerhouse she and John comes to stay at, as a countryside cure for her. Though she insists on staying in another room, John is adamant she stays there as that room has many windows and lot of sunlight. However, the wallpaper, stripped off from the wall at certain places, consumes her world completely. She spends hours at end watching it, forming shapes and patterns out of it. Her feelings of imprisonment are projected onto the wallpaper and she, having all the time in the world at hand, tries to scrutinize every bit of it.

The author very successfully takes us along the main character's descent to insanity. The book is written in first person narrative and that appealed to me a lot. What can a wallpaper possibly do to drive a person crazy??. You might wonder. But just read this book and you will, for a very short period, be taken down the road to madness. The ending stunned and creeped me out. Being the imaginative person that I am, I could very well visualize the creepy scene. For a few minutes I sat still, horror gripping my heart, trying to get that picture out of my mind. I really wish I could say more but well, I hate spoilers myself!

Though this was written a long time ago (1899), it somehow sounds modern to me. Sometimes classics can bore you. But not this one. This one, though only a few pages, is powerful beyond imagination. I think the bookcover is perfect.

This is a brilliantly written book and I highly recommend you read it too!. This book gets a 5/5 from me, which by Goodreads standards mean it's amazing!

A classic tale of horror, especially suited for feminists. A young woman is taken to a country home for a "rest cure" to soothe her nerves, and is confined to one room. Nervous paranoia and cabin fever set in, focusing on the ugly yellow wallpaper of the room, where the woman begins to see a lurking figure. The ending has such a hard punch I can't call it a twist, and thank goodness. This story is direct and wonderfully paced.

If you're a fan of horror or early feminist works, this is an excellent match for you.

This story is in the public domain, so you can find it about anywhere. I listened to the audio production from Tales to Terrify, but I know there's ones from Librivox, as well.

This is such a good look at historical mental illness! You just need rest, air, blah blah it’s all in your head, it’s not real. While it IS in your head, it’s very real. In some aspects we’re still in the same boat as way back when this was written, but at least we’re coming out into the light finally! Splendid imagery, I could really see her creeping woman and awful wallpaper, even if they were all part of her illness.

I just finished this book and was mildly interested in what was going on. I gave it five stars because, while I wasn't quite ready for it, I did feel it is a writer who is completely in control of her art. This is an important story, I feel, even though I was in no frame of mind to fully embrace it. Perhaps I will go back one day and fully concentrate.

Someone who is going to start it, succumb to it, enter Ms. Gilman's world, unlike the way I just wasn't prepared enough when I started reading it; it's only 36 pages.

Plot Summary:
A young family goes to a country home in a small American town for the summer. The husband is a physician who hopes that being in the country will help his wife over her currently unhappy state. The wife is probably suffering from what we would call postpartum depression. She often feels tired, and her physician husband's cure for this is to isolate her in the attic of their rented home. The attic has barred windows, a bed nailed to the floor, and hideously yellow wallpaper. As time moves on, we see the woman, who narrates the story, become more and more enthralled with the wallpaper- first she sees it as ugly, then she sees patterns and shapes in it and finally she sees that there is a woman trapped behind it, trying desperately to get out. And she decides to help this poor woman escape.

My thoughts:
In The Yellow Wallpaper, the narrator asks her husband multiple times to let her out and to allow her to socialize and write and enjoy her life, but he refuses, citing her health as his reason. As the narrator says, her husband "is very careful and loving, and hardly lets me stir without special direction." Thus, isolated as she is and suffering from what starts as a seemingly mild form of mental illness, the woman in The Yellow Wallpaper descends into insanity and no one even notices until it is too late.

I think this is a very important story when one considers women's health and the coddling way in which women were (and still often are) treated. Here is a story of a woman who tried to stand up for herself, but was told to just relax by her dear, sweet husband who always knows and wants what is best for her. The narrator's thoughts on the yellow wallpaper also morph and change with her mental state and her own feelings. What begins as ugly wallpaper turns to moldy and smelly paper and then finally becomes a prison for a woman stuck behind it, yearning to break out. And the narrator tries to help this imprisoned woman get out, in much the way she herself wants to escape her room and her life.

This story conveys a great deal in a very limited amount of space. It's also a very important work for its time- it sheds light on both mental illness and the role and rights of a woman in a family. It really makes clear just how unhappy women were in some circumstances, Gilman proves in her short story that unhappiness can lead us all to commit desperate acts. Whether to gain love, or freedom, or just to remove herself from horrible circumstances, a woman will leave her person and personality behind to escape her reality.

Highly recommended for fans of Kate Chopin's The Awakening. I also highly recommend Stephen Benatar's Wish Her Safe at Home!

Published a little over 100 years ago, The Yellow Wall-Paper is a 50-page masterpiece by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. It is usually described as a woman slowly succumbing to mental breakdown due to a combination of the male belief in his own superiority and the female desire to please. A century on, and I believe it is a lot cleverer than that.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman was the prototype feminist. The woman of her novelette kept virtually a prisoner by her husband in a room with ugly yellow wallpaper doesn't so much have a breakdown, but liberates herself from the male prison by female guile and a profound sense of self. There are many views and reviews. Don't be led by them. Read this marvellous book.

This is a fascinating and most poignant story of a woman who, is effectively incarcerated in her attic by her busy doctor husband, John, who, whilst devoted, fails to understand her depression after childbirth, locks her in the attic room while he is on call, and forbids her to write, thinking that her writing is driving her mad.

In fact, it is depression after birth, added to the incarceration in the attic room with yellow wallpaper that causes her eventual deterioration of personality until she is paranoid. She becomes delusional, 'sees' a woman in the wallpaper, creeping, trying to escape but then this is surely a reflection of her own inner craving to be free; not only from the attic room but from her own demons.

Written in diary form I felt able to understand her the more through internal monologue at every stage of her increasing collapse into mental confusion and, when her husband returns to find her creeping around on the floor on all fours, I couldn't help but be deeply moved by the state to which a person, entitled to a happy life, had become so reduced to despair.

I read it thru once and at the end thought, "That's it???" Then I went back and reread it and started to ponder the different dimensions ot it. What struck me was the likely possibility of severe postpartum depression - the concern she expresses for her baby, the gratitude it is being well cared for and then her attempts to find her way to health while slipping further into mental torment via the wallpaper. It does remind me of the imaginativeness of childhood too, when one can imagine other magical worlds residing in the most ordinary places.

The Yellow Wallpaper is a short story by author Charlotte Perkins Gilman. First published in 1892, it has been described variously as gothic, horror, and feminist literature. Gilman, herself, saw it as an indictment of the treatment of women by the medical profession. A woman, who is suffering from depression after the birth of her child, is brought by her husband to an isolated mansion for a ‘rest cure’. She is forbidden any activity including writing. As she sinks slowly into insanity, she becomes obsessed with the yellow wallpaper in one of the rooms. In a very few pages, Perkins manages to convey the treatment of women in the 19th c. not only in terms of mental illness but in their position in the professional as well as domestic life. Most of all, though, The Yellow Wallpaper may be the most chilling depiction of the descent into madness ever written.

This is a master study in unreliable narration in an exceptionally compact space. There is enough room here for this to be psychological trauma, or a haunting by a woman who was locked in the attic. It deserves a place in your reading schedule alongside We Have Always Lived in the Castle.

I actually read this for free online... it took me about 25 minutes to read the whole story so I'm glad I didn't spend any money on it. But I AM glad that I read it. This is a strange little short story from the viewpoint of a woman who has recently given birth and suffers from post-partum depression. The cure for this at the time was strict bed rest with little to no mental stimulation. Our poor protagonist is married to a physician who believes that she needs to spend as much time as possible resting.

Because women were considered weak and incapable of handling too much thinking, the diagnosis is to prevent them from thinking. This was used to cure anxiety and depression... but anyone who has ever been forced into bedrest knows that all you do when laying there is think... and your thoughts get a little screwy after you've stared at the ceiling counting the dots. So is our heroine loosing her mind or is that horrible wall paper actually changing, showing her things, is there a woman behind bars trying to escape? Or is she projecting her misery with her confinement, her husband, and her situation into the frayed and torn wallpaper.

This was really a fun read that I could envision people having hours and hours of discussion on. It's one of those little bits of writing that you can easily gloss over and not think of again... but if you pull back that first layer you'll discover that there is so much more to this tiny little tale. I highly recommend taking the 20 minutes it will take you to read this, specifically to women and people in the medical profession... the insanity of what the medical profession used to believe is unbelievable.

The Yellow Wallpaper is a well-written gothic classic. That being said, I did not love this book. It did not leave a lasting impression on me. Short, odd and maybe a bit too over-hyped for me to thoroughly enjoy it. This early feminist tale tries to be a bit too obtuse for my taste.

Written in the 1890's this is a classic piece of gothic fiction. In the Yellow-Wallpaper, Gilman’s most famous and disturbing story, the house is portrayed as a domestic prison, a warden, and later as a mirror that depicts the awful break-down of the main character. In truth, I was not prepared for the subtle horror of the final scene due to Gilman’s clever use of language.

One thing that thoroughly irked me was the overly feminist tone and how the plots all began to merge together within the novel at an alarmingly fast rate. I am all for women's rights and power, yet not so much to the point of preaching and belittling men, which to me, is what made up this novel.

The narrator is…unreliable, to say the least. She is a mother confined to a room upstairs in a rented house, separated from her baby and prevented from doing anything at all. She tells us that the room has bars on the windows and rings on the walls because it was a nursery, but it is obvious that it has been set up as a secure place for a mentally-ill patient. There is a gate at the top of the stairs, and even the bed is nailed to the floor. The horrible yellow wallpaper is torn, but it doesn't take the reader long to work out who is tearing it.

The woman's secret journal is written in a bleak, fractured style, which adds to the sense of disorientation.

Overall, The Yellow Wallpaper was far not the worst book I’ve read, yet I simply did not truly care much for it.

The first time I read the Yellow Wallpaper I was struck by the sheer force the words have on the reader. Perkins Gillman plays a mind game with her words, and the reader is made to join her sense of imagination. I first read it for a literature class, and each of the students in the class had a different interpretation of the story. This seemed extremely effective - it had made all of us think, and imagine. It had made is not just analyze the words, but it made us become a part of the story.I myself felt that the woman in the story was quite amazing - there were two men in her life, her husband and her brother both doctors by profession who were most incensitive to her needs. As can be expected of that time period, they were more interested in the norms of society, and were not going to allow the woman to act contrary to the norm. She however, was not about to give up on behalf of the norm. She was going to fight to the very end, and it felt almost as though she had liberated her own mind when she stopped seeing another woman in the wallpaper, but herself became one with it. Those of you who read this should also go ahead and read something on the author. It is a truely amazing story, and leaves plenty of room for the imagination. or. In one of her essays she talks of why she wrote this story.

Love love! One of my all-time favorites short stories. There's not a thing wrong with The Yellow Wallpaper. Charlotte Perkins Gilman was an amazing writers. This story has so much wit and sass wrapped up in its few pages. To think of the times in which she lived, awful. I wrote a paper on this story in college and it's the best paper I've ever written and was the most fun writing. This is a beloved classic short story that I will read many more times before my days are done.

A sort of creepy book in which the protagonist creeps all over. Ha ha! You have to read the story to understand what I mean.

The story is told from the depths of mental illness- clear, vivid, amusing, disheartening and striking! I loved the conceptualization and description of the story.

A little read but it makes you think for hours after. The language is beautiful and there is so much show rather than tell in the writing that I could see clear visuals of the happenings.

You must read this one for the sake of having a glimpse into madness (and I don't say that in any bad way. Equivalent to mental illness, a crude term).

These stories are written in a different time frame, almost a century and a half ago, they are more literature than the made for TV tales turned out furiously on the computers of modern day authors, turned out with stories of violence and sex to attract an audience, rather than with interesting stories about life's challenges. This collection of short stories was simply a pleasure to read. Each one, on its own, had a different theme about women. One story was about a misunderstood woman going mad after the birth of her child, when her hormones were batting each other around like baseballs.
Another was about a young woman wronged, who haunts the dreams of those living in the home she once lived in with her fatherless child. The next is about a pampered woman who finds her own strength and grows independent. Then there is the story of a bitter, over zealous aunt who makes a deceitful bargain with her great nephews, only to be chastised by the minister for her duplicity.
The selection of stories is wholesome. There is a mixture of the real with the mystic. There is no stupid sex or foul language. There is really no violence to speak of and there are happy endings, of a fairy tale nature, in some cases. They cover the gamut of women's issues, career, emotion, freedom, purpose, love, marriage, divorce, devotion, loyalty, faithfulness, religion, responsibility, and even vengeance, but all of the stories are treated in such a way that they do not tax the reader, but rather they entertain perfectly with the style and the message.

This novella is a terrifying account of one women's descent into madness. This tale is told in the first person by the wife of a doctor. Modern day readers will recognize that she is suffering from postpartum depression. This book was published in 1892 and therefore reflects the attitudes and treatments of mental illness. What made me cringe the most was the comments and limitations the husband/doctor made for his wife.

The bedroom's description gave me shivers. Allegedly, it was a former nursery which was the explanation for metal rings and other objects inserted in the wall. The bed appears to be nailed to the wall and there are gouges in it and the walls. It makes the reader wonder is someone else was confined here due to madness.

The yellow wallpaper becomes the woman's focus and she begins to have hallucinatory experiences. It becomes a living organism and the woman believes that another woman is trapped in it. Our protagonist has projected her dilemma to the woman in the wallpaper. The wallpaper draws the woman and the reader into its serpentine web.

This is my favorite short story. It made my stomach flip! It is a creepy, terrifying and disturbing account of one women's descent into terrifying madness. The descriptions are very graphic and vivid; especially the one's of the wallpaper, which are reader's clues to what is really going on in the story.

The story is presented as a collection of journal entries written by the woman who is suffering from what modern readers will recognize as post-partum depression. The woman's husband is a physician and he treats his wife's illness by confining and isolating her to the attic bedroom of a rural manor house he has rented for the summer. The windows of her attic room are barred, the floor is scraped, the wallpaper is torn and there are strange metal rings hanging from the wall. There is also a locked gate across the top of the stairs, so only her husband can control of her access in and out of the locked room. The woman is forbidden from doing anything intellectual or stimulating: no reading, no writing, no sewing, nothing, so she is forced to hide her diary from him.

Her isolation, confinement begins to affect her mental state. With nothing to stimulate her, she becomes obsessed by the pattern, designs and color of the torn yellow wallpaper in her room. First she sees strange patterns and designs in the paper, then she becomes delusional and descends into complete psychosis, imagining there are women creeping around behind the patterns of the wallpaper, and soon she comes to believe that she is one of those women. The ending is bone-chilling and brilliant.

Gilman's novel is even more relevant today than when it was first printed. More than merely a narrative of female intellectual oppression or a critique of late 19th century social mores, "The Yellow Wallpaper" documents a practice that was common among the middle and upper class. Known as the "rest cure," women who displayed signs of depression or anxiety were committed to lie in bed for weeks at a time, and allowed no more than twenty minutes of intellectual exertion a day. Believing that intellectual activity would overwhelm the fragile female mind, "rest cure" refers to the prevention of women from thinking, relying on the assumption that the natural state of the female mind was one of emptiness. Seeing as how the women were confined to empty rooms with no exercise or stimulation of any kind, the obvious consequence was that the women became still more anxious, which reinforced the convictions of the doctors and husbands that their wives needed further rest.
The "rest cure" was prescribed most commonly to women who had recently given birth. Suffering from what we now know is post-partem depression (caused by hormonal fluctuations of seratonin that result from the female body adjusting to not having a fetus to delivering hormones to), women were locked up and kept from seeing their newly born children.
Gilman's book, therefore, is not only an American literary classic, but it also provides insight into America's social history; a history which will not be forgotten as long as people continue to carefully read this psychologically wrought story.

Abigail Swope
Period 3
1/30/14
The Yellow Wallpaper
No one will understand what you are going through except for you. In 1892 men wouldn’t consider women equal to them. They would underestimate us and the capabilities we have. Men would call us “weak”. Charlotte Perkins Gilman was a feminist writer during 1892. She wrote a short story called “The Yellow Wallpaper” talking about how a lady goes crazy being in a yellow room that her husband put her in because he thought she had a “nervous disorder”. Equal means being the same, not being less or more.
Throughout the story the narrator/main person went from being a mellow character to this psycho character. “For outside you have to creep on the ground, everything is green instead of yellow” (Gilman, 481) in the beginning she talked about how beautiful the garden was and how she wanted to go outside, she didn’t like being in the yellow room she hated so much. She was always trapped in the yellow room because her husband thought she was sick that she felt comfortable being in there and nowhere else. “I’ve got out at last…in spite of you and Jane” (Gilman, 500). We all feel trapped in a way and want to get free. The narrator now feels like her psycho self is who she was always meant to be. She became this way because her husband considered her weak and sick and not equal to him.
I recommend this book to people who like a good twist at the end it shows how women felt to be discriminated and treated as less. You can also read it if you like hearing what happened during 1892. This book captures the struggles women went through and how their personalities changed into what men thought were normal.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman, The Yellow Wallpaper (Feminist Press edition, 1973)

One of the best things about this small volume is that there's good deal of biographical and context information in the back. The story itself, already creepy enough on its own, takes on added weight when tied in to various minor details in Gilman's life. The biographer notes at one point that of Gilman's many writings, the only ones to survive in print at the time were this story and a textbook, Women and Economics. While this is certainly an above-average piece of work, there are a number of things about it that make it easy to see why less gripping tales in Gilman's corpus might have fallen by the wayside.

The main annoyance of Gilman's writing style is the constant paragraph breaks, a longstanding (and, one wonders, is there any reason behind it besides tradition?) affectation of what we'll call euphemistically erotic novelists. Really, subtlety is a good thing. While we're at it, the story would be more effective with half, or less, the number of existing exclamation points. The only parallel I can think of these days, stylewise, is the chatter of vacuous fourteen-year-old girls mooning over the Backstreet Boys. It gets painful after a while.

Annoyances of grammar aside, the story itself is quite a work. It purports to be the diary of a woman descending into madness thanks to, in essence, being treated like a woman in nineteenth-century America (the story itself dates from 1899). One wonders if H. P. Lovecraft didn't lift some of his descriptions of raw chaos from Gilman's descriptions of the wallpaper in the title, which is about the closest thing to raw chaos one is likely to find outside a straight horror story.

There is nothing here to suspend disbelief; there is nothing here that requires it. By the time the last few sentences roll around, the author's state is entirely plausible, and that, more than anything, is what makes this such a fine piece of work. Should be, and in many places is, required reading. ****

What's great about this story is that I've found it reprinted in horror anthologies, women's fiction anthologies, college readers, texts on madness...It's a masterful example of an unreliable narrator and a woman's descent into madness. A wife is prescribed bed rest for what appears to be postpartum depression, is confined to a room w/ sickly yellow overly ornate wallpaper...and goes mad from inactivity, lack of meaningful stimulation. Don't want to spoil it by saying any more, if you haven't already read this great short story.

I cannot speak for the rest of this book, but I have read "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gillman, and it is a fantastic story about a woman who is married to a cheating husband and ends up locking him in a cellar. The prose is clear, concise and meditative in style. It brings into question what should we value in life... one can have all the riches in the world and still be empty inside, as the main character in the short story is.

Recommended.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman is a genius. She has a superb inmagination and brings the reader into all of her stories. I wrote a paper on her and her life along with "The Yellow Wallpaper"--everything she writes makes the readers think long after they have read anything by her. The way she shows this woman's life of being locked up within her babies nursery and her visions of women behind the putrid, stinking yellow wallpaper--along with many other things within the story really gets the reader involved in her life of pain of depression of losing her child. She never sees her baby and often to never sees anyone else. She is being talked into being crazy and a bad mother--from her doctor husband and her brother-in-law doctor. I think she has been set personally so her husband can have an affair with someone else,other than her. This story really makes you hate men that treat women like dogs or worse than that. What no one can really answer after they have read the story is whether she truly has freedom or not or is it just a mental freedom from everything real. Gilman really allows the reader to picture what the woman in the yellow wallpapered room is seeing with the vividness in words and actions that happen within the short story. She also melts together the dream/insane with the real world and that is also what makes her stories so great and so symbolic to the reader.

The story I am reviewing is The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. This story was written in the 1890's. During this time women were not very highly regarded due to a lot of sexism and that men were superior. Women during this time were expected to be the perfect housewife that would consist of staying home there whole life, taking care of the children, the house, and food on a daily basis. The lifestyle leads to a lot of depression in women which was "cured" by leaving them in solitary confinement for a certain length of time. In my opinion the story displays a lot of the authors thoughts on what women of the time suffered on a day to day basis during this point of time
In the story there are not a lot of characters which the author makes up with the vast amount of dialog throughout the entire story. the main character in the story is the woman whose name is not mentioned. she is very different in her opinion from other women during the time because she has a voice and does not act like the typical house wife despite her best attempts at it. The main setting of the story is a very well portrayed urban house. while reading through the start you almost feel as though you are there. the whole story in my opinion falls into a much larger picture that is we don't fully understand what someone else is going through.
To me i feel that this story would be best enjoyed by someone with a higher level of reading and comprehension of the text; high school students would be the suggested readers to me. I come to that conclusion from the way the story is worded and from the amount of dialogue used it would be harder for people without a higher level of reading to follow. although i was not the biggest fan of the story I would suggest reading The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman from a historical standpoint of how women lived during that time.

First published in 1892, The Yellow Wallpaper is a short story of choppy sentences that punctuate the rambling thoughts of a woman going mad. The narrator is an obedient wife and mother, sexually restrained and socially isolated. Her husband and brother, both physicians, confine her to an attic nursery in order to calm her nerves. Instead, she is tormented by a woman trapped inside the wallpaper "where the pattern lolls like a broken neck and two bulbous eyes stare at you upside down."

I haven't gotten around to reading the whole book, even though it is only 70 pages long. I bought it for "The Yellow Wallpaper". The covers are very thin, so I don't think it will withstand much traveling, but the price is fantastic.

The Yellow Wallpaper and other stories by Charlotte Perkins Gilman is a wonderful compilation of feminist short stories. The first story, The Yellow Wallpaper reminds us, even today, that a woman who allows herself to become dominated to the point where her talents are suppresed can made herself a prisoner of her own creativity. The protagonist,much like Gilman, has a "nervous disorder." Unlike Gilman, who wrote her way out of the "disorder" the "wife" is not allowed to write and thus must sneak her writing, much like an alcoholic. Eventually, the wallpaper invades her space to the point of madness. Other stories point up other women's issues, such as Three Thanksgivings, in which the women save themselves via a business adventure, which is similar to Making a Change, in which a mother's anxiety and depression are alleviated by following her true creative urges and an older woman's losses are alleviated by her ability to nurture. The Cottagette was a light-hearted romp into the problems women create for themselves and how a too-good-to-be-true suitor helps out his beloved. Turned is an interesting story of what happens when a man makes a wrong move in the presence of a strong woman! Last but not least, Mr. Peebles Heart is an interesting story of a fiftyish shopkeeper. For $1.00, this book is a highly recommended find for those that enjoy feminist literature. I happen to be one of those so I have given it a "10."END

A woman suffering from an unnamed disease-sadness, nervousness, anxiety, mental fogginess-is told she must rest as much as possible. To that end, she and her husband have rented a house in the country, and she is confined to an upstairs room, with only a hideous, maddening yellow wallpaper for company.

Forbidden to read, write, see her children, or do work of any kind, the unnamed protagonist spends her time attempting to unravel the pattern within the wallpaper. She studies it so intently that she begins to see someone-a woman-trapped within the wallpaper. Determined to free the woman, she starts to unwind the wallpaper, even as her own mind starts to unravel.

As many, I first read "The Yellow Wallpaper" in high school. Back then, I was intrigued by the story, and felt empathy towards the main character, but felt myself struggling more between an unfamiliar dialect and of course an impending test.

Now that I am an adult, I decided to reread it, and found it fascinating. It is quite short, but contains incredible symbolism: we feel sorry for this woman, apparently a new mother suffering from severe post-partum depression, banned from doing something therapeutic: writing.

J.R. Reardon
author, "Confidential Communications"

This is still my favorite short story to date. I remember the first time reading it as a young college student and feeling a connection to the story more than I ever had with a book before. I can't recommend it enough.

Filled to the brim with symbolism and bizarre allusions, The Yellow Wallpaper is truly a satisfying read for anyone willing to put their mind to work. Though the initial reading and comprehension of the story may seem choppy at first, don't let it throw you off. Stick with it and toss it around in your head for awhile. Re-read it and the symbolism becomes strikingly vivid. A wonderful read for anyone wishing to challenge their imagination, I highly recommend this story.

The Yellow Wallpaper is a pinnacle of feminist literature, though most contemporary feminists wouldn't think so. This is the feminism of our great-grandmothers, suffragette-style.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman explores independence, spiritual and mental wellbeing, and empowerment within the confines of early-20th century through this collection of short stories originally written for her feminist newspaper. She cunningly explores women's relationships with children, men, and other women in very accessible stories that nearly everyone can relate with on some level.

These are stories of women doing it on their own and doing it well. Don't be spooked by the first story, but keep on reading and find yourself looking at women's empowerment from a whole new angle.

Best of all, the Dover Thrift Edition costs only $1.50!

The Yellow Wallpaper and other stories by Charlotte Perkins Gilman is a wonderful compilation of feminist short stories. The first story, The Yellow Wallpaper reminds us, even today, that a woman who allows herself to become dominated to the point where her talents are suppresed can made herself a prisoner of her own creativity. The protagonist,much like Gilman, has a "nervous disorder." Unlike Gilman, who wrote her way out of the "disorder" the "wife" is not allowed to write and thus must sneak her writing, much like an alcoholic. Eventually, the wallpaper invades her space to the point of madness. Other stories point up other women's issues, such as Three Thanksgivings, in which the women save themselves via a business adventure, which is similar to Making a Change, in which a mother's anxiety and depression are alleviated by following her true creative urges and an older woman's losses are alleviated by her ability to nurture. The Cottagette was a light-hearted romp into the problems women create for themselves and how a too-good-to-be-true suitor helps out his beloved. Turned is an interesting story of what happens when a man makes a wrong move in the presence of a strong woman! Last but not least, Mr. Peebles Heart is an interesting story of a fiftyish shopkeeper. For $1.00, this book is a highly recommended find for those that enjoy feminist literature. I happen to be one of those so I have given it a "10."END

A woman suffering from an unnamed disease-sadness, nervousness, anxiety, mental fogginess-is told she must rest as much as possible. To that end, she and her husband have rented a house in the country, and she is confined to an upstairs room, with only a hideous, maddening yellow wallpaper for company.

Forbidden to read, write, see her children, or do work of any kind, the unnamed protagonist spends her time attempting to unravel the pattern within the wallpaper. She studies it so intently that she begins to see someone-a woman-trapped within the wallpaper. Determined to free the woman, she starts to unwind the wallpaper, even as her own mind starts to unravel.

As many, I first read "The Yellow Wallpaper" in high school. Back then, I was intrigued by the story, and felt empathy towards the main character, but felt myself struggling more between an unfamiliar dialect and of course an impending test.

Now that I am an adult, I decided to reread it, and found it fascinating. It is quite short, but contains incredible symbolism: we feel sorry for this woman, apparently a new mother suffering from severe post-partum depression, banned from doing something therapeutic: writing.

J.R. Reardon
author, "Confidential Communications"

This is still my favorite short story to date. I remember the first time reading it as a young college student and feeling a connection to the story more than I ever had with a book before. I can't recommend it enough.

Filled to the brim with symbolism and bizarre allusions, The Yellow Wallpaper is truly a satisfying read for anyone willing to put their mind to work. Though the initial reading and comprehension of the story may seem choppy at first, don't let it throw you off. Stick with it and toss it around in your head for awhile. Re-read it and the symbolism becomes strikingly vivid. A wonderful read for anyone wishing to challenge their imagination, I highly recommend this story.

The Yellow Wallpaper is a pinnacle of feminist literature, though most contemporary feminists wouldn't think so. This is the feminism of our great-grandmothers, suffragette-style.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman explores independence, spiritual and mental wellbeing, and empowerment within the confines of early-20th century through this collection of short stories originally written for her feminist newspaper. She cunningly explores women's relationships with children, men, and other women in very accessible stories that nearly everyone can relate with on some level.

These are stories of women doing it on their own and doing it well. Don't be spooked by the first story, but keep on reading and find yourself looking at women's empowerment from a whole new angle.

Best of all, the Dover Thrift Edition costs only $1.50!

Alice Cooper once said, "Welcome to my nightmare!" and this is what I felt from the moment I started this story. What is going on? Is her husband gaslighting her? Is her family aware of what is happening? This story is so creepy that you can't wait to finish it, but when you do, you may need to read it again to make sure you didn't miss anything.

Very entertaining!

I was confused after the first 1/3 of the book which is really part of the plot. I actually had to google it to understand the full intention. Then had to go back and re-read. Don't google until you read it once.

Although feminists seem to own "The Yellow Wallpaper", this short and semi-autobiographical plot is more about the control the medical profession holds over our health and well being than it is about oppression of women in general. Once the story's protagonist falls under the permanent control of her physician husband, her life becomes one obsessive-compulsive act after another until the climax. Post partum depression is the primary diagnosis presented in this rapidly moving plot. Perhaps this gem of a story would be better reviewed as medical literature and made required reading- it's short, after all- for students and professors who study physician-patient communications.

The yellow wallpaper is a brilliant piece of writing that captures you from the first mental image if this wallpaper all the way to the end. I knew the ending and I still didn't see it coming. It is a very different style of writing than what I generally read, however I was captured from the first line.

The excessive use of exclamation marks is slightly annoying, as another reviewer pointed out.

The story is about a woman circling madness. The ending creeps up on you and is quite spooky. Worth the read.

My thought on the "Yellow Wallpaper" is that it was a short story about women's obsession within the yellow wallpaper. While I can't resonate to depression, it's always worth it to peek into the life experience of others. Jane the main character is suffering from depression, which she finds herself out in the open country that her husband John a doctor thought would do her good. Her husband John belittles her both her illness and her.

Her husband's idea of treatment is that she's required that she do almost nothing. Also her husband John had forbidden her from writing. I also might be on edge if my efforts to communicate via journal or direct talk would to be cut off. Her husband John insists on smothering her with dominance. Also what to me would be imprisonment from bars on the windows. Which bring us to the eerie yellow wallpaper, she finds herself very sensitive with a room that has yellow wallpaper she finds the patterns to be disturbing. I suppose would get a bit anxious too if I were to be faced in a room I didn't like. But the wallpaper obviously bothers Jane. In my opinion it represents everything she not right now. The ugly wallpaper is free to be "ugly"... It's free to be confusing and obscured and yellow to me is happiness. Yellow is enlightment and energy. Jane has not one of these things right now. I believe that's why she becomes obsessed with the wallpaper

-ariel

The narrator makes this short story extremely unique. As the reader progresses deeper into the mind of the speaker, who is also the main character, he will begin to feel disturbed/sympathy as she goes further into psychosis. And that is what makes the story so intriguing. She goes from absolutely hating the wall paper to slowly getting sucked into an obsession with it until finally believing she is a part of the patterns. I'd recommend this story to anyone looking for something totally original and outside mainstream novels, or to anyone interested in psychological problems.

I read The Yellow Wallpaper for a class, and absolutely loved it! It's so well-written, and haunting, I still remember the story very clearly, and I haven't read it in at least a year. Gilman does a great job of entering the mind of a woman gone mad.

This is not only one of my favorite classic pieces of literature, it inspired my first novel A White Room. Thus my review mentions my book and how this piece inspired it.

The review is via vlog - [...]

Here is my reading of The Yellow Wallpaper if you want to get an idea of what this short story is all about. [...]

For more of my reviews at [...] and learn more about my books at [...]

Hope these reviews are helpful.

Sincerely,
Stephanie Carroll

I first read this book in Lit 150 class. Perhaps the narrator is truly an honest victim of the sensitive nerves and active uterus that characterized the nervous diseases and hysteria. Then again, perhaps she is forced to endure the "rest cure" in order to quell her creative inclinations and allow her to take on the role of a proper wife to her husband. Either way, as the narrator plunges deeper into the world of the yellow wallpaper, the reader cannot help but wonder how many other "nervous" or "hysterical" women have suffered the same fate.

I read this in college and it quickly became on of my favorite reads of that time. I recommend not reading this alone and instead reading with a group, it helps you work through the intense nature of the material.

This is not only one of my favorite classic pieces of literature, it inspired my first novel A White Room. Thus my review mentions my book and how this piece inspired it.

The review is via vlog - [...]

Here is my reading of The Yellow Wallpaper if you want to get an idea of what this short story is all about. [...]

For more of my reviews at [...] and learn more about my books at [...]

Hope these reviews are helpful.

Sincerely,
Stephanie Carroll

This story takes you inside of a woman's mind. A completely different view than you are used to!! It's a short read and an exceptionally well written book, by a woman who experienced a similiar situation, but thankfully a different outcome! Enjoy

This is truly incredible work. I can't think of any other to compare it to; the story, the writing -- it is just incredible. It is so haunting, so effective. I recommend it highly to any aspiring writer or just anyone who likes to read a great short story. This one could change your life.

Any red-blooded American alpha males who suffered
academic "forced exposure" to this delightful little
tale should seek out the short story "A Piece Of
Linoleum" by Dr. David H. Keller, M.D. Reading it
will put you right again.

Considering I don't read a lot, I liked this book. It kept my interest, as to what the narrator was talking about, but I thought it could have went into a bit more detail. None the less, it was a good book.

***WARNING- POSSIBLE TRIGGERS***

I just finished reading The Yellow Wallpaper for a discussion in a feminist book club I just joined. I thought it would be so easy; there was a link for a free, downloadable PDF available through the Gutenberg Project, so I wouldn’t even have to shell out a few bucks, or worse, have to special order it after waiting until the last minute. The next day, I walked into my local free book exchange, and found a copy. The pages were still crisp and everything. I thought, “Score!” Since it was very short, only thirty-six pages, (not counting the afterward) I was able to off reading it in favor of another book I was excited to start. Less than an hour after I optimistically turned the first pages, I had reached the end.

I HATED that book.

I wanted to throw it across the room. I might still do it. Every time the husband, John, dismissed the wife (did she even HAVE a name? I’m assuming her personal worth does not necessitate an identifying factor, like a NAME) I had to use my utmost self-control and not rip the damn thing in half. My self-control was ADMIRABLE, above all things. NOBODY. GOT. HURT.

I guess the reason I had such a strong reaction was because her situation was so similar to my own. My husband kept me totally isolated from my family and friends- my children had their rooms on the upper level of the house we lived in, and we slept on the lower level, in the finished basement. It was horrible, the feeling of being underground, constantly. My husband took over the childcare responsibilities, including waking them and readying them for school, their schedules, and putting them to bed each evening. They weren't allowed to play downstairs, because that was "OUR special space," and I really only saw them at dinner time. I was discouraged from being on the main level of the house, and wasn't able to drive my own car, because he had it blocked in. We lived in the country, with few neighbors... I was stuck.

I became SO ENRAGED.

I tried to speak for myself and my children and set boundaries, but, in the same way the narrator describes being dismissed, my husband would entirely disregard the validity of my feelings and my needs by reminding me of my delicate state. He'd pour me wine, and put me to bed. Later, when I'd drank my feelings away, he would use my body.

That horrible cycle the wife in The Yellow Wallpaper couldn't escape (attempting to discuss her needs/ being pat on the head and diagnose her as being "prone to fancy," the historical context of F'ed up in the head/ the wife assuming her feelings are wrong, and only her husband truly understands her) was all too familiar... Like the wife, I began doubting myself; editing my self-perception to line up with my abuser. Eventually, he didn't need to impart his "wisdom," as I was able to hear his voice in my head along with my own, correcting me, pruning me, shaping me into the perfect invalid.

It got to the point where my sanity was not the question; the question was more to the point of my family avoiding contact with me because no one knew what would set me off. My husband’s new refrain was no longer convincing me I was too delicate too be taxed with unnecessary contact with others, but that I was irrational; abusive.

Like the wife in The Yellow Wallpaper, I was ushered off to bed as soon as I dared make eye contact. And I WAS tired. So, blessed tired. Sooooooooo tired. The more these fruitless interactions I had with my husband, the more weary I became.

So I slept. My body became weaker, and I wasn’t as able to be physical in the way I had been before marrying my husband. When I first noticed my body’s betrayal, I was stupefied. My husband came rushing in, digging the point home that I was to delicate and weak to accomplish my normal tasks. My mind reeled; everything that I knew to be true about myself was no longer true; my confidence became a slippery thing, and I began to look to my husband for answers about myself.

It wasn’t until years later and four attempts to leave my abuser that I was able to regain control over my own boundaries and potential. For quite a while after I had “taken a walk,” I was badly in need of reassurance as to who I was. Even after therapy, it wasn’t until I stopped looking in the mirror and started looking at the face of God through prayer, studying the Word, and worship, that I began to see myself clearly reflected in His own love. I couldn’t trust myself anymore, but I could trust the Creator.

It was through those same channels that I was able to find forgiveness. The forgiveness I found for my husband looked like shoving a round peg through a square hole; it more accurately resembled compassion. To be honest, I choose not to give him any more mental space than what he already took from me.

The true forgiveness I found was in forgiving myself… Forgiveness for allowing someone like him into my life. Forgiveness for what marrying him did to my children, as they watched me unravel. Forgiveness for choosing a relationship with such an unhealthy and unloving man instead of waiting for a husband who honored God in his relationship with me, rather than defiling me. Forgiveness for believing that I was all that he said I was. Forgiveness for believing that I was unlovable, and no one else would want me.

Now, every night, before I go to bed, I swallow my Zoloft. I consciously make the choice not to swallow the words that inevitably fill my head as I down the bitter pill, saying, “See? If you weren’t a mental case, you wouldn’t have to take anti-psychotics!” Every night, I remind myself that I haven’t been prescribed anti-psychotic medication, because I’m not psychotic. I take Zoloft because it helps me cope with my PTSD symptoms; a result of living for three short years with a man who could probably use a head change, himself.

Now, every day, I wake up and fill my head with the remembrance of how Jesus saved me, AGAIN. The first time was two thousand plus years ago when He took my sins as His own, and bore them, suffering, on the cross at Calvary. The latter was when He held me in His arms and said, “I created you. I love you. I see you as whole and perfect, just as My love for you is whole and perfect. I sent My Son to die for you, because I love you, and through His Blood, you are made clean.”

I love Him for that.

***WARNING- POSSIBLE TRIGGERS***

I just finished reading The Yellow Wallpaper for a discussion in a feminist book club I just joined. I thought it would be so easy; there was a link for a free, downloadable PDF available through the Gutenberg Project, so I wouldn’t even have to shell out a few bucks, or worse, have to special order it after waiting until the last minute. The next day, I walked into my local free book exchange, and found a copy. The pages were still crisp and everything. I thought, “Score!” Since it was very short, only thirty-six pages, (not counting the afterward) I was able to off reading it in favor of another book I was excited to start. Less than an hour after I optimistically turned the first pages, I had reached the end.

I HATED that book.

I wanted to throw it across the room. I might still do it. Every time the husband, John, dismissed the wife (did she even HAVE a name? I’m assuming her personal worth does not necessitate an identifying factor, like a NAME) I had to use my utmost self-control and not rip the damn thing in half. My self-control was ADMIRABLE, above all things. NOBODY. GOT. HURT.

I guess the reason I had such a strong reaction was because her situation was so similar to my own. My husband kept me totally isolated from my family and friends- my children had their rooms on the upper level of the house we lived in, and we slept on the lower level, in the finished basement. It was horrible, the feeling of being underground, constantly. My husband took over the childcare responsibilities, including waking them and readying them for school, their schedules, and putting them to bed each evening. They weren't allowed to play downstairs, because that was "OUR special space," and I really only saw them at dinner time. I was discouraged from being on the main level of the house, and wasn't able to drive my own car, because he had it blocked in. We lived in the country, with few neighbors... I was stuck.

I became SO ENRAGED.

I tried to speak for myself and my children and set boundaries, but, in the same way the narrator describes being dismissed, my husband would entirely disregard the validity of my feelings and my needs by reminding me of my delicate state. He'd pour me wine, and put me to bed. Later, when I'd drank my feelings away, he would use my body.

That horrible cycle the wife in The Yellow Wallpaper couldn't escape (attempting to discuss her needs/ being pat on the head and diagnose her as being "prone to fancy," the historical context of F'ed up in the head/ the wife assuming her feelings are wrong, and only her husband truly understands her) was all too familiar... Like the wife, I began doubting myself; editing my self-perception to line up with my abuser. Eventually, he didn't need to impart his "wisdom," as I was able to hear his voice in my head along with my own, correcting me, pruning me, shaping me into the perfect invalid.

It got to the point where my sanity was not the question; the question was more to the point of my family avoiding contact with me because no one knew what would set me off. My husband’s new refrain was no longer convincing me I was too delicate too be taxed with unnecessary contact with others, but that I was irrational; abusive.

Like the wife in The Yellow Wallpaper, I was ushered off to bed as soon as I dared make eye contact. And I WAS tired. So, blessed tired. Sooooooooo tired. The more these fruitless interactions I had with my husband, the more weary I became.

So I slept. My body became weaker, and I wasn’t as able to be physical in the way I had been before marrying my husband. When I first noticed my body’s betrayal, I was stupefied. My husband came rushing in, digging the point home that I was to delicate and weak to accomplish my normal tasks. My mind reeled; everything that I knew to be true about myself was no longer true; my confidence became a slippery thing, and I began to look to my husband for answers about myself.

It wasn’t until years later and four attempts to leave my abuser that I was able to regain control over my own boundaries and potential. For quite a while after I had “taken a walk,” I was badly in need of reassurance as to who I was. Even after therapy, it wasn’t until I stopped looking in the mirror and started looking at the face of God through prayer, studying the Word, and worship, that I began to see myself clearly reflected in His own love. I couldn’t trust myself anymore, but I could trust the Creator.

It was through those same channels that I was able to find forgiveness. The forgiveness I found for my husband looked like shoving a round peg through a square hole; it more accurately resembled compassion. To be honest, I choose not to give him any more mental space than what he already took from me.

The true forgiveness I found was in forgiving myself… Forgiveness for allowing someone like him into my life. Forgiveness for what marrying him did to my children, as they watched me unravel. Forgiveness for choosing a relationship with such an unhealthy and unloving man instead of waiting for a husband who honored God in his relationship with me, rather than defiling me. Forgiveness for believing that I was all that he said I was. Forgiveness for believing that I was unlovable, and no one else would want me.

Now, every night, before I go to bed, I swallow my Zoloft. I consciously make the choice not to swallow the words that inevitably fill my head as I down the bitter pill, saying, “See? If you weren’t a mental case, you wouldn’t have to take anti-psychotics!” Every night, I remind myself that I haven’t been prescribed anti-psychotic medication, because I’m not psychotic. I take Zoloft because it helps me cope with my PTSD symptoms; a result of living for three short years with a man who could probably use a head change, himself.

Now, every day, I wake up and fill my head with the remembrance of how Jesus saved me, AGAIN. The first time was two thousand plus years ago when He took my sins as His own, and bore them, suffering, on the cross at Calvary. The latter was when He held me in His arms and said, “I created you. I love you. I see you as whole and perfect, just as My love for you is whole and perfect. I sent My Son to die for you, because I love you, and through His Blood, you are made clean.”

I love Him for that.

Any red-blooded American alpha males who suffered
academic "forced exposure" to this delightful little
tale should seek out the short story "A Piece Of
Linoleum" by Dr. David H. Keller, M.D. Reading it
will put you right again.

Considering I don't read a lot, I liked this book. It kept my interest, as to what the narrator was talking about, but I thought it could have went into a bit more detail. None the less, it was a good book.

***WARNING- POSSIBLE TRIGGERS***

I just finished reading The Yellow Wallpaper for a discussion in a feminist book club I just joined. I thought it would be so easy; there was a link for a free, downloadable PDF available through the Gutenberg Project, so I wouldn’t even have to shell out a few bucks, or worse, have to special order it after waiting until the last minute. The next day, I walked into my local free book exchange, and found a copy. The pages were still crisp and everything. I thought, “Score!” Since it was very short, only thirty-six pages, (not counting the afterward) I was able to off reading it in favor of another book I was excited to start. Less than an hour after I optimistically turned the first pages, I had reached the end.

I HATED that book.

I wanted to throw it across the room. I might still do it. Every time the husband, John, dismissed the wife (did she even HAVE a name? I’m assuming her personal worth does not necessitate an identifying factor, like a NAME) I had to use my utmost self-control and not rip the damn thing in half. My self-control was ADMIRABLE, above all things. NOBODY. GOT. HURT.

I guess the reason I had such a strong reaction was because her situation was so similar to my own. My husband kept me totally isolated from my family and friends- my children had their rooms on the upper level of the house we lived in, and we slept on the lower level, in the finished basement. It was horrible, the feeling of being underground, constantly. My husband took over the childcare responsibilities, including waking them and readying them for school, their schedules, and putting them to bed each evening. They weren't allowed to play downstairs, because that was "OUR special space," and I really only saw them at dinner time. I was discouraged from being on the main level of the house, and wasn't able to drive my own car, because he had it blocked in. We lived in the country, with few neighbors... I was stuck.

I became SO ENRAGED.

I tried to speak for myself and my children and set boundaries, but, in the same way the narrator describes being dismissed, my husband would entirely disregard the validity of my feelings and my needs by reminding me of my delicate state. He'd pour me wine, and put me to bed. Later, when I'd drank my feelings away, he would use my body.

That horrible cycle the wife in The Yellow Wallpaper couldn't escape (attempting to discuss her needs/ being pat on the head and diagnose her as being "prone to fancy," the historical context of F'ed up in the head/ the wife assuming her feelings are wrong, and only her husband truly understands her) was all too familiar... Like the wife, I began doubting myself; editing my self-perception to line up with my abuser. Eventually, he didn't need to impart his "wisdom," as I was able to hear his voice in my head along with my own, correcting me, pruning me, shaping me into the perfect invalid.

It got to the point where my sanity was not the question; the question was more to the point of my family avoiding contact with me because no one knew what would set me off. My husband’s new refrain was no longer convincing me I was too delicate too be taxed with unnecessary contact with others, but that I was irrational; abusive.

Like the wife in The Yellow Wallpaper, I was ushered off to bed as soon as I dared make eye contact. And I WAS tired. So, blessed tired. Sooooooooo tired. The more these fruitless interactions I had with my husband, the more weary I became.

So I slept. My body became weaker, and I wasn’t as able to be physical in the way I had been before marrying my husband. When I first noticed my body’s betrayal, I was stupefied. My husband came rushing in, digging the point home that I was to delicate and weak to accomplish my normal tasks. My mind reeled; everything that I knew to be true about myself was no longer true; my confidence became a slippery thing, and I began to look to my husband for answers about myself.

It wasn’t until years later and four attempts to leave my abuser that I was able to regain control over my own boundaries and potential. For quite a while after I had “taken a walk,” I was badly in need of reassurance as to who I was. Even after therapy, it wasn’t until I stopped looking in the mirror and started looking at the face of God through prayer, studying the Word, and worship, that I began to see myself clearly reflected in His own love. I couldn’t trust myself anymore, but I could trust the Creator.

It was through those same channels that I was able to find forgiveness. The forgiveness I found for my husband looked like shoving a round peg through a square hole; it more accurately resembled compassion. To be honest, I choose not to give him any more mental space than what he already took from me.

The true forgiveness I found was in forgiving myself… Forgiveness for allowing someone like him into my life. Forgiveness for what marrying him did to my children, as they watched me unravel. Forgiveness for choosing a relationship with such an unhealthy and unloving man instead of waiting for a husband who honored God in his relationship with me, rather than defiling me. Forgiveness for believing that I was all that he said I was. Forgiveness for believing that I was unlovable, and no one else would want me.

Now, every night, before I go to bed, I swallow my Zoloft. I consciously make the choice not to swallow the words that inevitably fill my head as I down the bitter pill, saying, “See? If you weren’t a mental case, you wouldn’t have to take anti-psychotics!” Every night, I remind myself that I haven’t been prescribed anti-psychotic medication, because I’m not psychotic. I take Zoloft because it helps me cope with my PTSD symptoms; a result of living for three short years with a man who could probably use a head change, himself.

Now, every day, I wake up and fill my head with the remembrance of how Jesus saved me, AGAIN. The first time was two thousand plus years ago when He took my sins as His own, and bore them, suffering, on the cross at Calvary. The latter was when He held me in His arms and said, “I created you. I love you. I see you as whole and perfect, just as My love for you is whole and perfect. I sent My Son to die for you, because I love you, and through His Blood, you are made clean.”

I love Him for that.

***WARNING- POSSIBLE TRIGGERS***

I just finished reading The Yellow Wallpaper for a discussion in a feminist book club I just joined. I thought it would be so easy; there was a link for a free, downloadable PDF available through the Gutenberg Project, so I wouldn’t even have to shell out a few bucks, or worse, have to special order it after waiting until the last minute. The next day, I walked into my local free book exchange, and found a copy. The pages were still crisp and everything. I thought, “Score!” Since it was very short, only thirty-six pages, (not counting the afterward) I was able to off reading it in favor of another book I was excited to start. Less than an hour after I optimistically turned the first pages, I had reached the end.

I HATED that book.

I wanted to throw it across the room. I might still do it. Every time the husband, John, dismissed the wife (did she even HAVE a name? I’m assuming her personal worth does not necessitate an identifying factor, like a NAME) I had to use my utmost self-control and not rip the damn thing in half. My self-control was ADMIRABLE, above all things. NOBODY. GOT. HURT.

I guess the reason I had such a strong reaction was because her situation was so similar to my own. My husband kept me totally isolated from my family and friends- my children had their rooms on the upper level of the house we lived in, and we slept on the lower level, in the finished basement. It was horrible, the feeling of being underground, constantly. My husband took over the childcare responsibilities, including waking them and readying them for school, their schedules, and putting them to bed each evening. They weren't allowed to play downstairs, because that was "OUR special space," and I really only saw them at dinner time. I was discouraged from being on the main level of the house, and wasn't able to drive my own car, because he had it blocked in. We lived in the country, with few neighbors... I was stuck.

I became SO ENRAGED.

I tried to speak for myself and my children and set boundaries, but, in the same way the narrator describes being dismissed, my husband would entirely disregard the validity of my feelings and my needs by reminding me of my delicate state. He'd pour me wine, and put me to bed. Later, when I'd drank my feelings away, he would use my body.

That horrible cycle the wife in The Yellow Wallpaper couldn't escape (attempting to discuss her needs/ being pat on the head and diagnose her as being "prone to fancy," the historical context of F'ed up in the head/ the wife assuming her feelings are wrong, and only her husband truly understands her) was all too familiar... Like the wife, I began doubting myself; editing my self-perception to line up with my abuser. Eventually, he didn't need to impart his "wisdom," as I was able to hear his voice in my head along with my own, correcting me, pruning me, shaping me into the perfect invalid.

It got to the point where my sanity was not the question; the question was more to the point of my family avoiding contact with me because no one knew what would set me off. My husband’s new refrain was no longer convincing me I was too delicate too be taxed with unnecessary contact with others, but that I was irrational; abusive.

Like the wife in The Yellow Wallpaper, I was ushered off to bed as soon as I dared make eye contact. And I WAS tired. So, blessed tired. Sooooooooo tired. The more these fruitless interactions I had with my husband, the more weary I became.

So I slept. My body became weaker, and I wasn’t as able to be physical in the way I had been before marrying my husband. When I first noticed my body’s betrayal, I was stupefied. My husband came rushing in, digging the point home that I was to delicate and weak to accomplish my normal tasks. My mind reeled; everything that I knew to be true about myself was no longer true; my confidence became a slippery thing, and I began to look to my husband for answers about myself.

It wasn’t until years later and four attempts to leave my abuser that I was able to regain control over my own boundaries and potential. For quite a while after I had “taken a walk,” I was badly in need of reassurance as to who I was. Even after therapy, it wasn’t until I stopped looking in the mirror and started looking at the face of God through prayer, studying the Word, and worship, that I began to see myself clearly reflected in His own love. I couldn’t trust myself anymore, but I could trust the Creator.

It was through those same channels that I was able to find forgiveness. The forgiveness I found for my husband looked like shoving a round peg through a square hole; it more accurately resembled compassion. To be honest, I choose not to give him any more mental space than what he already took from me.

The true forgiveness I found was in forgiving myself… Forgiveness for allowing someone like him into my life. Forgiveness for what marrying him did to my children, as they watched me unravel. Forgiveness for choosing a relationship with such an unhealthy and unloving man instead of waiting for a husband who honored God in his relationship with me, rather than defiling me. Forgiveness for believing that I was all that he said I was. Forgiveness for believing that I was unlovable, and no one else would want me.

Now, every night, before I go to bed, I swallow my Zoloft. I consciously make the choice not to swallow the words that inevitably fill my head as I down the bitter pill, saying, “See? If you weren’t a mental case, you wouldn’t have to take anti-psychotics!” Every night, I remind myself that I haven’t been prescribed anti-psychotic medication, because I’m not psychotic. I take Zoloft because it helps me cope with my PTSD symptoms; a result of living for three short years with a man who could probably use a head change, himself.

Now, every day, I wake up and fill my head with the remembrance of how Jesus saved me, AGAIN. The first time was two thousand plus years ago when He took my sins as His own, and bore them, suffering, on the cross at Calvary. The latter was when He held me in His arms and said, “I created you. I love you. I see you as whole and perfect, just as My love for you is whole and perfect. I sent My Son to die for you, because I love you, and through His Blood, you are made clean.”

I love Him for that.