"...And Whatever Walked There, Walked Alone."

                                     That literary phrase says more about Shirley Jackson than one might imagine.  Though married, and with children, her most celebrated accomplishments--the body of her work--was done in solitude and contemplation.

                                       Ruth Franklin adeptly juxtaposes Jackson's life and travails with the burgeoning rise of the Women's Rights Movement, referencing such key players as Betty Friedan, and Susan Sontag.  What I could not help noticing was how the dynamics of Jackson's and Stanley Edgar Hyman's marriage was remarkably similar to that of Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes.  Both women's genius far exceeded their husbands, who were academic, at best.  Sylvia turned her despair inward, while Jackson reached outward; writing was her way of getting out in the world, no matter what degree of agoraphobia or obesity she suffered.

                                       Then, there was Mother Geraldine.  Apparently, she was a great beauty, and was devastated when Jackson turned out to be less than that.  Geraldine would have preferred a Grace Kelly type for a daughter, and made that apparent Jackson's entire life.  It is interesting to me that, despite this disparity, the relationship never reached estrangement.  Whereas, Jackson had a younger brother, Phillip, who, apparently, was everything Geraldine wanted Jackson to be.  As soon as Jackson moves on from childhood, Phillip is heard of no more.  I cannot help but wonder why Franklin failed to explore that.

                                        This is a satisfying literary biography, but, for my money, spends too much time on Stanley Edgar Hyman!  Who cares?  The man was second tier, a sexist pig, whose wife's genius outshone any of his accomplishments.  Though it is made clear teaching may have been his best work, though he probably would not agree.

                                          I must warn you.  Franklin wrote this book for those who have read quite a lot of Shirley Jackson. If you have not, this book is not for you, as many of Shirley's plots are given away, in examining them.  I will never forget the first time I read "The Lottery" in my high school library.  It took my breath away. No one should be deprived of that pleasure.

                                            Nor did I realize that Jackson's two domestic works--"Life Among The Savages," and "Raising Demons"--both preceded Jean Kerr's "Please Don't Eat The Daisies," which I had always thought pioneered the comic suburban expose.

                                            It seems there was nothing Shirley could not do.  And, for one with such a short life, she did more than many who live twice as long as she.  The talent, the complexity, are all captured superbly, but if there is one message Shirley sends out through this book it is this--

                                            Whatever one pursues, do not allow anyone to stop you.

                                             Somewhere, in the Great Beyond, Shirley, with coffee is writing away.

                                             So many of us look forward to reading that treasure trove!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!