An Interpretation of Jean Rhys' Used to Live Here Once Essay

If this story had been told from a first person point of view, the reader my not have gotten this in depth of a description of the setting. Without the reader understanding that the house was boarded up and abandoned, to the point where it seems

In this reading, the narrator talks about the reaction of Mrs. Millard who had heart problems, when she notices of her husband´s death. Louise Mallard is at home with her sister Josephine, when they hear of a rain accident; then Josephine tells Louise that her husband has been killed it in the accident.

She came up to the island and saw this big house, she was walking up to the door and she was bleeding out because of the thorns and trees. She knocked on the door and she saw Rainsford answer, and asked ‘’ can

She slumped to the floor of the the cottage”. This was really big for her because she just got freed from enslavement, then she learns that she will be reminded of that everyday of her life by this slavery child.

“The rain this mourning pours from the gutters and everywhere else it is lost in the trees. You need your glasses what you know is there because doubt is inexorable; you put on your glasses. The trees, their bark, their leaves, even the dead ones, are more vibrant wet. Yes, and it’s raining. Each moment is like this—before it can be known, categorized as similar to another thing and dismissed, it has to be experienced, it has to be seen. What did he just say? Did she really just say that? Did I hear what I think I just heard? Did that just come out of my mouth, his mouth, your mouth? The moment sinks. Still you want to stop looking at the trees. You want to walk out and stand among them. And as light as the rain seems, it still rains down on you.” (page 9)

As the family is driving along, the grandmother awakens from a nap and recalls “an old plantation that she had visited in this neighborhood once when she was a young lady” (189). This recollection happens while the family is driving through the town of Toomsboro, GA. The grandmother is extremely manipulative and selfish and coaxes the family into visiting the old plantation by lying to them with the possibility of finding hidden treasure. The name of the town is only a slight indication of the terrible tragedy that is yet to come. It is no

The next to die was a woman in her early twenties, her voice creaking in despair with every step she took like the old wood beneath her. Armand glanced at her as the pack in front all drooled thirsty for the satisfaction of her demise. “I’ve seen this woman before.” Armand murmured, scouring his mind, trying to match her face to that of the many

Her sudden death in the arms of her lover, was tragic and turned her success in Pyrrhic victory, her career throughout the novel is however a fascinating tale of determination, fortitude and resilience is.

“Like Miss Emily it stands “lifting its stubborn and coquettish decay” alone amidst alien surroundings. When the town complains about the smell emanating from the house, the judge equates house and woman: “Will you accuse a lady to her face of smelling bad?” Miss Emily becomes a fallen woman where she lived in a house that had “once been white… set on what had once been our most select street…lifting its stubborn and coquettish decay above the cotton wagons and gasoline pumps an eyesore among eyesores.” The house, like Miss Emily, has fallen from purity and like Miss Emily it is an eyesore, for

Which came to surprise since Mrs.Watson’s wasn’t very far, it would have taken less than five minutes if it wasn’t for the dreadful weather. Not only was that surprising but, the back door was unlocked. It was a blessing that it was because it would only cause more time to be wasted. They crossed the threshold, bringing in the blistering cold with them. The house’s walls were beautifully layered with flower print designs, and had a furry yellowish carpet which was extremely nice on Huck’s feet as he took off his shoes, though the other’s shoes remained on. The house had countless antiques and art paintings that were held up along the walls. The warm scent of coffee and some indistinguishable sweet aroma filled the

The leather furniture was cracked, and if the chairs were sat upon dust rose about one's thighs. The house seemed to be submerged in shadows as if it also refused to admit the light of the future. It had once been part of the most stylish street in town. Now it was surrounded with the cotton wagons and the gasoline pumps. It had obviously become an eyesore compared to once when it had been so beautiful.

After quickly recovering from the storm of grief which showered her, Louise comprehends her own independence; “‘Free, free, free!’” (202). Something of which she has not possessed before. Not to mention, Louise holds great passion for the future without her husband influencing her decisions, “...(the) long procession of years to come (...) would belong to her absolutely” (202). As the story continues, it becomes evident that Mrs. Mallard’s confidence and jubilance holds direction in her long life to come. Ironically, however, Louise only lives to see the next few minutes of her life. As the shock of seeing the living dead births a heart attack; “When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease- a joy that kills” (203). Ultimately, her gluttonous behaviour and extreme state of joy lead her to an untimely death when her eyes lay upon the presumed dead, Brently

The story begins with the writer describing Miss Emily’s house, which was once nice and luxurious but has become hideous looking. Her house was once apart of the most select in the city, it was now covered with mold. “It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what had once been our most select street.” (Lines 6-9) With the rebuilding of the Old South her house is left alone instead of making any improvements towards it, therefore emphasizing the habits Miss Emily is refusing to let go of.

“Her long shadow fell to the water’s edge. Her face had a tragic and fierce aspect of wild sorrow and of dumb pain mingled with the fear of some struggling, half-shaped resolve. She stood looking at us without a stir, and like the wilderness itself, with an air of brooding over an inscrutable purpose…”

It took very long, but by sunset, she recognized her farm and her fields. But it had been destroyed. The fields looked as if they had erupted, and her animals were missing. But her house was the saddest . . . it was gone. All her belongings were scattered everywhere.