The mysterious figure of a woman trapped behind the yellow wallpaper becomes a symbol for the ways in which the narrator herself feels trapped by her role in the family. It slaps you in the face, knocks you down, and tramples upon you. He seems very queer sometimes, and even Jennie has an inexplicable look. She was only allowed two hours of mental stimulation a day, and writing materials were banned. Thus as the story progresses, the narrator follows both her childlike promptings and her artistic faith in creating a Gothic alternative to the stifling daylight world of her husband and the society at large.
This was in her marriage without a doubt, although it has to be recognized that John most likely loved his wife very much and thought he was doing what was best. There were greenhouses, too, but they are all broken now. Liberation from his and society's oppression of women is only available in this internal struggle which ultimately leads to a mental breakdow The Yellow Wallpaper is a short but powerful masterpiece in which Charlotte Perkins Gilman offers insight into oppression and madness. The baby is fine; thank goodness, the baby is fine. But I don't want to go there at all. I'm so pleased that I revisited this! Her husband, a doctor, instructs her to get a lot of rest and refrain from doing any work. Lie down an hour after each meal.
John would not hear of it. So I will let it alone and talk about the house. There is a recurrent spot where the pattern lolls like a broken neck and two bulbous eyes stare at you upside-down. A martyr, he definitely is. This is actually one of those books I wish I didn't read. It is so discouraging not to have any advice and companionship about my work.
It is a big, airy room, the whole floor nearly, with windows that look all ways, and air and sunshine galore. It is so pleasant to be out in this great room and creep around as I please! Gilman Presents the Best Arguments Possible in Behalf of Votes for Women. Because that's what I wanted her to do throughout, but we cannot really expect that from a genteel 19th century lady and that is when the story was written. She would like to write, which is forbidden, and surreptiously keeping a diary exhausts her, as does trying to oppose her husband. She starts to see a woman inside the wallpaper, and believes the woman is struggling to break free. This sad story of a psychological breakdown spirals from low energy and spirits into a very dark place in its few pages.
The narrator has become fond of the room, perhaps because of the wallpaper. In 1903, she addressed the International Congress of Women in Berlin, and, the next year, toured in England, the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, and Hungary. So I, being an extremely practical Victorian man, have decided that the best solution for the problem is to restrain her in the house. Fisher Unwin, 1924; Westport: Hyperion Press, 1976. Round and round and round — round and round and round — it makes me dizzy! There is one that commands the road, a lovely, shaded, winding road, and one that just looks off over the country. Gilman also believed old stock Americans of British colonial descent were giving up their country to immigrants who, she said, were diluting the nation's reproductive purity. If that worthless husband of hers would have just changed it when she told him to none of this would have happened.
Jennie sees to everything now. The Yellow Wallpaper is about a poor lady with a nervous disposition moving into a creepy but not haunted mansion with her husband and sister in law. John is practical in the extreme. But instead of interpreting her tears as evidence of her suffering, he takes them as evidence that she is irrational and can't be trusted to make decisions for herself. The Yellow Wallpaper illuminates the challenges of being a woman of ambition in the late 19th century. Hopefully I will find some classic authors, from across the ages, that I may not have come across had I not bought this collection. She didn't know I was in the room, and when I asked her in a quiet, a very quiet voice, with the most restrained manner possible, what she was doing with the paper she turned around as if she had been caught stealing, and looked quite angry — asked me why I should frighten her so! She tried to get me out of the room — it was too patent! I can see her out of every one of my windows! It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and most women do not creep by daylight.
And though I always see her, she may be able to creep faster than I can turn! Dickinson abruptly demanded new wallpaper for her bedroom. I got up softly and went to feel and see if the paper did move, and when I came back John was awake. He loves me very dearly, and hates to have me sick. It is always the same shape, only very numerous. It dwells in my mind so! Mitchell, largely through his treatment of Gilman and her later description of this, gained a notorious reputation, and he may well have misdiagnosed her or believed that her intellectual pursuits were too introspective. It is stripped off - the paper in great patches all around the head of my bed, about as far as I can reach, and in a great place on the other side of the room low down. And why would a children's playroom have weird metal rings on the walls and bars on the windows? Of course I didn't do a thing.
The color is hideous enough, and unreliable enough, and infuriating enough, but the pattern is torturing. It was nursery first and then playground and gymnasium, I should judge; for the windows are barred for little children, and there are rings and things in the walls. Our narrator spends time trying to peel off all the wallpaper to free the woman. Women were reported to be putting themselves at risk of nervous collapse with their eagerness to take on roles unsuited to their gender, including higher education or political activities. She envisions the woman stooping around during the day when she is let out and shaking the bars of her prison at night when she is locked up. He knows there is no reason to suffer, and that satisfies him.
Liberation from his and society's oppression of women is only available in this internal struggle which ultimately leads to a mental breakdown and loss of identity. Round and round and round - round and round and round - it makes me dizzy! Rather than improving her health, the patterns lead her to a greater state of mental illness. The words must be taken from her mind to make room for more words. She then returns to her examination of the wallpaper. Out of another I get a lovely view of the bay and a little private wharf belonging to the estate. I even said so to John one moonlight evening but he said what I felt was a draught, and shut the window. The people are all gone and I am tired out.
The baby is fine; thank goodness, the baby is fine. I should have left her in darkness. Instructed by her husband not to engage in any intellectual activity and to get total bed rest, the narrator becomes obsessed with the wallpaper until, at the end of the story, she goes insane. Even coming to anger does not mean change or improvement. She creates stories out of the supposed paisley design and has delusions that a woman from the paper is out to get her. I get positively angry with the impertinence of it and the everlastingness. But, turn as fast as I can, I can only see out of one at one time.