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Remember the short story #TheLottery by #ShirleyJackson, where, every year, each villager draws a slip of paper and the one who draws the X "wins" - and everyone, incl her own children, must pick up a rock and stone her death? That's cult worship. That's ignorance. That's MAGA. https://t.co/6IaxcIDAqp

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Remember the short story #TheLottery by #ShirleyJackson, where, every year, each villager draws a slip of paper and the one who draws the X "wins" - and everyone, incl her own children, must pick up a rock and stone her death? That's cult worship. That's ignorance. That's MAGA. https://t.co/6IaxcIDAqp

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This is political exploitation of children.

Besides, “Pin the Toupee on the Jack-Ass”, sounds way more fun. 

 https://t.co/vTCwpk0lPC

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Children were told to ‘build the wall’ at White House Halloween party

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A Halloween party on Oct. 25 at the Eisenhower Executive Office Building in D.C. featured candy, paper airplanes — and concerning for some attendees — a station where children were encouraged to help “Build the Wall” with their own personalized bricks.

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Remember the short story #TheLottery by #ShirleyJackson, where, every year, each villager draws a slip of paper and the one who draws the X "wins" - and everyone, incl her own children, must pick up a rock and stone her death? That's cult worship. That's ignorance. That's MAGA. https://t.co/6IaxcIDAqp
— Katherine Fugate (@katherinefugate) November 2, 2019

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Remember the short story #TheLottery by #ShirleyJackson, where, every year, each villager draws a slip of paper and the one who draws the X "wins" - and everyone, incl her own children, must pick up a rock and stone her death? That's cult worship. That's ignorance. That's MAGA. https://t.co/6IaxcIDAqp

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Children were told to ‘build the wall’ at White House Halloween party

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A Halloween party on Oct. 25 at the Eisenhower Executive Office Building in D.C. featured candy, paper airplanes — and concerning for some attendees — a station where children were encouraged to help “Build the Wall” with their own personalized bricks.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props_source.includes.tweets[].text
This is political exploitation of children.

Besides, “Pin the Toupee on the Jack-Ass”, sounds way more fun. 

 https://t.co/vTCwpk0lPC

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Remember the short story #TheLottery by #ShirleyJackson, where, every year, each villager draws a slip of paper and the one who draws the X "wins" - and everyone, incl her own children, must pick up a rock and stone her death? That's cult worship. That's ignorance. That's MAGA. https://t.co/6IaxcIDAqp

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Remember the short story #TheLottery by #ShirleyJackson, where, every year, each villager draws a slip of paper and the one who draws the X "wins" - and everyone, incl her own children, must pick up a rock and stone her death? That's cult worship. That's ignorance. That's MAGA. https://t.co/6IaxcIDAqp

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props.referenced_tweets[].entities.urls[].title
Children were told to ‘build the wall’ at White House Halloween party

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props.referenced_tweets[].entities.urls[].description
A Halloween party on Oct. 25 at the Eisenhower Executive Office Building in D.C. featured candy, paper airplanes — and concerning for some attendees — a station where children were encouraged to help “Build the Wall” with their own personalized bricks.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.metadata.attachment_props.referenced_tweets[].text
This is political exploitation of children.

Besides, “Pin the Toupee on the Jack-Ass”, sounds way more fun. 

 https://t.co/vTCwpk0lPC

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When Shirley Jackson's chilling story "The Lottery" was first published in 1948 in The New Yorker, it generated more letters than any work of fiction the magazine had ever published. Readers were furious, disgusted, occasionally curious, and almost uniformly bewildered.

The public outcry over the story can be attributed, in part, to The New Yorker's practice at the time of publishing works without identifying them as fact or fiction. Readers were also presumably still reeling from the horrors of World War II. Yet, though times have changed and we all now know the story is fiction, "The Lottery" has maintained its grip on readers decade after decade.

"The Lottery" is one of the most widely known stories in American literature and American culture. It has been adapted for radio, theater, television, and even ballet. The Simpsons television show included a reference to the story in its "Dog of Death" episode (season three).

"The Lottery" is available to subscribers of The New Yorker and is also available in The Lottery and Other Stories, a collection of Jackson's work with an introduction by the writer A. M. Homes. You can hear Homes read and discuss the story with fiction editor Deborah Treisman at The New Yorker for free.

Plot Summary

"The Lottery" takes place on June 27, a beautiful summer day, in a small New England village where all the residents are gathering for their traditional annual lottery. Though the event first appears festive, it soon becomes clear that no one wants to win the lottery. Tessie Hutchinson seems unconcerned about the tradition until her family draws the dreaded mark. Then she protests that the process wasn't fair. The "winner," it turns out, will be stoned to death by the remaining residents. Tessie wins, and the story closes as the villagers-including her own family members-begin to throw rocks at her.

Dissonant Contrasts

The story achieves its terrifying effect primarily through Jackson's skillful use of contrasts, through which she keeps the reader's expectations at odds with the action of the story.

The picturesque setting contrasts sharply with the horrific violence of the conclusion. The story takes place on a beautiful summer day with flowers "blossoming profusely" and the grass "richly green." When the boys begin gathering stones, it seems like typical, playful behavior, and readers might imagine that everyone has gathered for something pleasant like a picnic or a parade.

Just as fine weather and family gatherings might lead us to expect something positive, so, too, does the word "lottery," which usually implies something good for the winner. Learning what the "winner" really gets is all the more horrifying because we have expected the opposite.

Like the peaceful setting, the villagers' casual attitude as they make small talk- some even cracking jokes-belies the violence to come. The narrator's perspective seems completely aligned with the villagers', so events are narrated in the same matter-of-fact, everyday manner that the villagers use.

The narrator notes, for instance, that the town is small enough that the lottery can be "through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner." The men stand around talking of ordinary concerns like "planting and rain, tractors and taxes." The lottery, like "the square dances, the teenage club, the Halloween program," is just another of the "civic activities" conducted by Mr. Summers.

Readers may find that the addition of murder makes the lottery quite different from a square dance, but the villagers and the narrator evidently do not.

Hints of Unease

If the villagers were thoroughly numb to the violence-if Jackson had misled her readers entirely about where the story was heading-I don't think "The Lottery" would still be famous. But as the story progresses, Jackson gives escalating clues to indicate that something is amiss.

Before the lottery starts, the villagers keep "their distance" from the stool with the black box on it, and they hesitate when Mr. Summers asks for help. This is not necessarily the reaction you might expect from people who are looking forward to the lottery.

It also seems somewhat unexpected that the villagers talk as if drawing the tickets is difficult work that requires a man to do it. Mr. Summers asks Janey Dunbar, "Don't you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?" And everyone praises the Watson boy for drawing for his family. "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it," says someone in the crowd.

The lottery itself is tense. People do not look around at each other. Mr. Summers and the men drawing slips of paper grin "at one another nervously and humorously."

On first reading, these details might strike the reader as odd, but they can be explained in a variety of ways -- for instance, that people are very nervous because they want to win. Yet when Tessie Hutchinson cries, "It wasn't fair!" readers realize there has been an undercurrent of tension and violence in the story all along.

What Does "The Lottery" Mean?

As with many stories, there have been countless interpretations of "The Lottery." For instance, the story has been read as a comment on World War II or as a Marxist critique of an entrenched social order. Many readers find Tessie Hutchinson to be a reference to Anne Hutchinson, who was banished from the Massachusetts Bay Colony for religious reasons. (But it's worth noting that Tessie doesn't really protest the lottery on principle-she protests only her own death sentence.)

Regardless of which interpretation you favor, "The Lottery" is, at its core, a story about the human capacity for violence, especially when that violence is couched in an appeal to tradition or social order.

Jackson's narrator tells us that "no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box." But although the villagers like to imagine that they're preserving tradition, the truth is that they remember very few details, and the box itself is not the original. Rumors swirl about songs and salutes, but no one seems to know how the tradition started or what the details should be.

The only thing that remains consistent is the violence, which gives some indication of the villagers' priorities (and perhaps all of humanity's). Jackson writes, "Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones."

One of the starkest moments in the story is when the narrator bluntly states, "A stone hit her on the side of the head." From a grammatical standpoint, the sentence is structured so that no one actually threw the stone-it's as if the stone hit Tessie of its own accord. All the villagers participate (even giving Tessie's young son some pebbles to throw), so no one individually takes responsibility for the murder. And that, to me, is Jackson's most compelling explanation of why this barbaric tradition manages to continue.

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Analysis of 'The Lottery' by Shirley Jackson

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When Shirley Jackson's chilling story "The Lottery" was first published in 1948 in The New Yorker, it generated more letters than any work of fiction the magazine had ever published. Readers were furious, disgusted, occasionally curious, and almost uniformly bewildered.

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This is a "The Lottery" in a modern tv show.

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Overlooking the Overstatement: On Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" and Bojack Horseman's "Thoughts and Prayers" Episode

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That Shirley Jackson's short story "The Lottery" has managed to perennially retain its status in anthologies and high school curriculums as a quintessentially "American" work of literature is - on paper, at least - curiously anomalous. A parable of sorts in its minimal exposition and heavy-handed mo...

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The Huffington Post, December 2013

American Constitution Society, December 2013

3 Pages Posted: 18 Jan 2014

Date Written: December 1, 2013

Abstract

Reflecting on the one-year anniversary of the Sandy Hook elementary school shooting, this very short essay compares the experience of gun violence in America to the dystopian game of chance in Shirley Jackson's classic American short story, "The Lottery." With references to the role of Constitutional law, media consumption, and cultural change, it urges an available, common-sense middle ground on gun policy. The essay was first published by the American Constitution Society (Dec. 17, 2013) and later appeared in the Huffington Post (Dec. 20, 2013).

Keywords: Newtown shooting, Sandy Hook shooting, Clackamas Town Center shooting, gun violence, gun control, gun rights, gun culture, Constitutional law, Second Amendment, background checks, mental illness and guns, assault weapons, videogame violence, television violence, Shirley Jackson, The Lottery

Suggested Citation

Ryan, Erin, The Great American Gun Violence Lottery (December 1, 2013). The Huffington Post, December 2013, American Constitution Society, December 2013, Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=2380306

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The Huffington Post, December 2013 American Constitution Society, December 2013 3 Pages Posted: 18 Jan 2014 Date Written: December 1, 2013 Reflecting on the one-year anniversary of the Sandy Hook elementary school shooting, this very short essay compares the experience of gun violence in America to the dystopian game of chance in Shirley Jackson's classic American short story, "The Lottery."

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emileigh keener

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Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” - Coronavirus Edition

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emileigh keener

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The lottery itself is symbolic of the traditions of the people, and their reluctance to change. The lottery is an annual event, and though it is a senseless sacrifice of their fellow brethren, it is defended by the town's people. It is a ritualistic sacrifice, which the town's people believe will have an impact on their crops. Old Man Warner repeats a popular saying which states "Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon" which is evidence of their strong associations with the lottery.

The lottery is also be symbolic of the idea of the greater good, and what it means to be a part of a community. The lottery though a wicked event somehow manages to live on as an established tradition because of this understanding. The people gather as if for an impending celebration, an atmosphere which the setting contributes to. The morning of the lottery is described as "[being] clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full ...green." The lottery functions as a unifying force which brings the people together, husband and wife, parent and child, neighbors are all brought together as a community. People are not coerced into attending the event, and they all willingly participate well aware of the possible conclusion.

The black box symbolizes the importance the people of the town place on tradition, and the critical role it plays in their lives. Like the traditions of the town, the black box is placed on a sort of pedestal (three legged stool), and is treated with reverence by the town's people during the lottery. Although Mr. Summers expresses his desire to have the box changed, the narrator notes that, " no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box." The significance of the black box is also shown in the comparison to Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, with the narrator noting that the box is older than even him.
It is interesting to note that with all the level of respect shown to the box, the box is not treated with much regard beyond the lottery. The box has no permanent home, and seems to move throughout the town at Mr. Summer's convenience. The narrator also notes that the black box is actually in poor condition and no longer black, which shows that the town's people seem to be more obsessed with the idea of the box than the box itself. The lottery is therefore more of an obsession with tradition, an idea, than an obsession with the perceived benefits.

The stones symbolize the judgement, and the impending ritualistic death brought on by the lottery. From the very beginning we are given the idea that the stones may be associated with something negative. Although the gathering of the stones appear to be the simple act of kids playing, the narrator observes that the villagers "stood together, away from the pile of stones". The stones are used to enforce the judgement, and brings the community together in the final act of sacrifice.

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The lottery itself is symbolic of the traditions of the people, and their reluctance to change. The lottery is an annual event, and though it is a senseless sacrifice of their fellow brethren, it is defended by the town's people. It is a ritualistic sacrifice, which the town's people believe will have an impact on their crops.

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If you would like screenshots of the full source info, email me on Canvas

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Shirley Jackson's The Lottery and Holocaust Literature

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Robinson, Michael. “Shirley Jackson’s ‘The Lottery’ and Holocaust Literature.” Humanities (2076-0787), vol. 8, no. 1, Mar. 2019, p. 35. EBSCOhost, doi:10.3390/h8010035.

Shields, Patrick J. “Arbitrary Condemnation and Sanctioned Violence in Shirley Jackson’s ‘the Lottery.’” Contemporary Justice Review, vol. 7, no. 4, Dec. 2004, pp. 411–419. EBSCOhost, doi:10.1080/1028258042000305884.

(Disclaimer: I haven't double checked these citations' formatting, so make sure you do so before using them!)

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Arbitrary Condemnation and Sactioned Violence in Shirley Jackson's The Lottery

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This is Liz Bowen Posting.

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Richard Lindgren: Governor Kim Reynolds lost a good two months of time pretending that her state was immune from the virus when she could have been turning over rocks testing for emerging hot spots. -promoted by Laura Belin
I do not live in Iowa anymore, although I did spend a lot of my years in a very rural part of the state. I still have grandchildren in Iowa and I can't help but watch with horror the slow-rolling disaster that is the "economic re-opening" of the state by Governor Kim Reynolds. It has brought from the deep recesses of my mind a classic short story written by Shirley Jackson, and I have realized that we are living this tale in real-time.

"The Lottery" was first published in 1948. During my youth, this work became a part of every American Literature curriculum. I confess that I neither understood the story nor grasped its importance until now.

Jackson's fable confused me as a teen because the story seemed so implausible. This idyllic small town conducts a lottery every year to pick one citizen at random. Then the entire town population, from the little children on up, begins to stone to death the unfortunate "lottery winner." With that gruesome act the story abruptly ends: "And then they were upon her."

Our English teachers tried to explain the concept of the scapegoat to us, as well as the immorality of mindless conformity, but I remember that whole scenario as seeming just too silly to be taken seriously.
Taking the probabilities seriously
I have been writing a lot recently about the trend lines and probabilities that characterize this novel coronavirus and the resultant tragic deaths from the new disease called COVID-19. The exponential spread of this virus has at times seemed to have a power of its own. However, there is a huge difference between trying to quickly uncover "God's coronavirus lottery picks" so that we can best direct our life-saving efforts versus what we are effectively doing in the re-opening plans of several "Red States." [1]

In these states, the Republican establishment has apparently decided that a growing number of not-so-random deaths is quite acceptable, because the nation's meat supply must be maintained at (quite literally) all costs. We even know who these virus victims are probabilistically most likely to be in Iowa. They work in your county's meatpacking plants and they live in your community's nursing homes.

Iowa's governor literally said about these loosened restrictions, "Isn't it a wonderful thing? Isn't this great?" She has in effect said here, "Get out the stones." Reynolds has moved this from a tragedy of the uncontrollable to the immorality of intentional harm.
The unreachable plan
In mid-April, the Trump administration released guidelines for economic re-openings based primarily on statistical success in addressing the COVID-19 numbers:

The guidelines recommend that states document a "downward trajectory" in cases of coronavirus and flu-like illnesses for two weeks before beginning a three-phase process to return to near normal work and social life. States should document another two weeks of declining cases before proceeding from one phase to another, the guidelines say, while a "rebound" in case numbers could mean reimposing some or all restrictions.

However, as I had written at Bleeding Heartland just days before that announcement, this plan would likely never work in states like Iowa or South Dakota that didn't have a New York-like flood of cases to begin with. The math of coronavirus in these mostly rural states has looked more like the cruel randomness of the "active shooter," with the virus finding targets in the grouped pockets of vulnerable people like immigrant slaughterhouse workers and nursing home residents.

The numbers of COVID-19 deaths in Iowa, both in absolute numbers and daily growth percentages, continue to rise rather than fall. [2] And because the state is mostly still testing known hot spots only, it is "looking for the lost keys only where the light shines the brightest."

Those federal guidelines remain a long way from working in Iowa; even the Trump administration seems to be pretending that they were never issued. Since she could not meet the federal guidelines, Governor Reynolds has apparently decided that there are "magic wall" boundaries between her counties, and so she has opened 77 of the 99 counties (colored gray on this map) for business.

Reynolds recently signed a $26 million no-bid contract with a controversial and inexperienced Utah company to expand testing in the state. I have advocated that the state also needs to be aggressively shining a very bright testing light "where the symptoms ain't" in order find the asymptomatic cases in the counties, health facilities and workplaces that officially report few cases right now. Because, I maintain, they do not have few cases. They are "the bullets that you don't hear," to use another analogy.

The governor lost a good two months of time pretending that her state was immune from the virus when she could have been turning over rocks testing for emerging hot spots.
Bad policy is also a spreading virus
My new home state of Florida is not doing any better. Until this week you still needed to go through many hoops in my county just to get tested. This usually included a doctor's prescription, which you could not obtain without symptoms. Still, Governor Ron DeSantis, has pulled out the old (bad) joke about Florida being "God's waiting room" to excuse the high number of deaths (1,268 to date), especially in elder-care facilities.

DeSantis even directed his state's health department to exclude from the death count the "snowbirds," those winter-only Florida residents (including many Iowans) who die while in the state. My spouse and I were snowbirds for about eight years before persistent problems with Iowa's intentionally kneecapped ACA health insurance exchange expedited our full-time move, in order to solidify our health insurance coverage. Our family remains in the "very high risk" category with this virus.

There are ways to move back away from a jaded acceptance of virus death to active engagement. Workplaces, especially the meatpacking plants, must vigorously fight the spread of this virus. Reports indicate that the government is making only voluntary requests for improving worker safety in the meatpacking plants. Instead, we should mandate paid leave in order to keep the economically desperate employees from showing up to work while sick. We should require the state to pay lodging costs for sick workers to isolate them from their families in order to stop the spread. And of course, we need contact tracing and testing, testing, testing.

Morality is a collective societal attitude. Do we accept many more deaths, knowing probabilistically where they will be, or do we fight it? When you are losing billions of dollars of economic activity, then it is surely worth millions of dollars of testing and tracing efforts to actively root out this virus in every corner of the state before it takes many more lives.
Richard Lindgren is Emeritus Professor of Business at Graceland University in Lamoni, Iowa, now retired in Gulf Coast Florida. He blogs at godplaysdice.com. Notes

1. It is important to recognize that some Republican-led states have been very tied to the math and the science from the outset in their response to COVID-19. I spent almost 20 years as an Ohio resident and rarely agreed with Mike DeWine, but as governor he has taken a very brave, science-based stand in protecting his state. He is to be commended. Republican Governor Larry Hogan of Maryland is another math-literate Republican doing an admirable, and often very creative, job in delivering key resources and life-saving policies to his state.

2. I use a seven-day average of the effective daily growth rate to smooth out the daily variances in state-reported cases and deaths. The Excel function for a seven-day exponential trend is RATE(7, 0, -day1count, day8count,,0.1).

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Living Shirley Jackson's story 'The Lottery' in real time - Bleeding Heartland

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Richard Lindgren: Governor Kim Reynolds lost a good two months of time pretending that her state was immune from the virus when she could have been turning over rocks testing for emerging hot spots. -promoted by Laura Belin I do not live in Iowa anymore, although I did spend a lot of my years in a very rural part of the state.

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https://www.nbc12.com/2020/04/21/before-calling-reopening-economies-ask-yourselves-whos-expendable/

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Comparison of Tessie from "The Lottery" and the COVID-19 deaths being used as a sacrificial pawn and society is completely fine with

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As the daily Covid-19 case count soars to new heights here in the United States (even as we are told by our federal government that it is important we all get back to work and send our children back to school), I find myself thinking of Shirley Jackson's short story, "The Lottery" (1948).
In this insidiously morbid story, Jackson skillfully conveys a dystopian reality in which a woman, Tessie, is stoned to death after 'winning' the town lottery. The stoning of the woman reflects ancient traditions (as well as those illustrated in myths) of sacrificing a scapegoat in order to benefit the community. In the case of 'The Lottery', the woman was sacrificed because it was her village populace belief that they needed a blood offering to ensure an abundant harvest.

What makes 'The Lottery' story extraordinarily eerie and sinister is that it takes place in the 20th century, and the stoning of the woman is woven within the fabric of a town that is nondescript and seemingly ordinary. The lottery and the planned scapegoating and ritual sacrifice appears to be viewed in as casual a manner as a conversation about farm equipment, taxes, or the weather.

The scapegoated woman selected via the town's lottery system served as a symbol of a non-productive member of society who is unable to serve the 'economic machine' and therefore has no usefulness. She therefore must be sacrificed. It is a weeding-out process in which the weak must die to make room for the capable and strong members of the village.

Jackson's story exemplifies an emotionally numb society, one in which the villagers are impatient for the lottery process and the stoning to be completed so they can resume their daily tasks and get back to work. The villagers have no obvious feelings about Tessie's brutal stoning as they passively observe her suffering, nor do they display feelings toward each other. They move about in a 'consensus trance', devoid of compassion or empathy.

Like the villagers in Jackson's story, it seems that the Trump administration is willing to sacrifice citizens in a 'practical', unfeeling, and dehumanizing manner in order to "keep the economy going". Massive increases in Covid-19 cases (over 77,000 new cases were reported yesterday) are referred to still as "embers" - little fires that need putting out.

At what point do we acknowledge that the village itself, along with the crops, is in danger of burning down?

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When Citizens Are Human Sacrifice: Shirley Jackson's 'The Lottery', Scapegoating and Covid-19 - Scapegoat Recovery Coaching

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As the daily Covid-19 case count soars to new heights here in the United States (even as we are told by our federal government that it is important we all get back to work and send our children back to school), I find myself thinking of Shirley Jackson's short story, "The Lottery" (1948).

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https://www.gale.com/open-access/shirley-jackson

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Parallel Criticism of The Lottery and The United States Army Lottery Draft

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Parallel Criticism of The Lottery and The United States Army Lottery Draft

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The fundamental principles of "utilitarianism" is that the moral is worthy of an action that benefits the majority of the population and minimizes the negative consequence of the action, thus the "greatest happiness rationale" rules. This further implies that the welfare of the entire population is more important than the welfare of a sole individual. Shirley Jackson's, "The Lottery", and the United States military draft lottery demonstrate two different examples of lottery practices - the stoning in "the Lottery" and the raising of military manpower through the draft lottery. Both of these examples claim the major aim is allegedly for the welfare of the majority, however otherwise. Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" epitomizes communities, America, the world, and the orthodox society in its entirety through utilizing setting and most significantly various representations with her imaginative, enigmatic literary style. The Lottery was written in 1948 and this was approximately three years following the release of a World War II concentration camp Auschwitz. Shirley Jackson illustrates through the setting of the story, a humble, close-knit community, that despite the population's ignorance to evil, it is still prevailing in the lottery. Lottery in the story pertains to the villagers' yearly ritual of sacrificing and stoning a member of the community in exchange for a plentiful harvest. The façade of the lottery may appear beneficial for the majority of the villagers because, according to their belief, doing the lottery will provide them with an abundant harvest (Jackson). The sacrifice of one community member may appear justifiable because that one person's sacrifice is for the good of the entire community. However, if we are going to...

... middle of paper ...

...eone to do something is not only a violation of his or her rights, but it is also a form of abuse. Government is in control of an abundant amount of power and abuses it by threatening citizens with fines, imprisonment, or the corruption of their reputation. Most of the time, the real goal of a practice or tradition is disguised in the idea of common good. Sadly, most of these practices or traditions are preserved to control, manipulate, and even worse harm individuals.

Works Cited

Jackson, Shirley. "The Lottery." Classic Short Stories. n.d. Web. 7 Feb. 2011.

http://www.classicshorts.com/stories/lotry.html.

Fienberg, Stephen E. "Randomization and Social Affairs: The 1970 Draft Lottery." Science

171.3968 (1971): 255-261. Print.

Landscaper.net. 1969 Draft Lottery. 24 Mar. 2009. Web. 7 Feb. 2011.

http://www.landscaper.net/draft/html.

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Parallel Criticism of The Lottery and The United States... | 123 Help Me

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The fundamental principles of "utilitarianism" is that the moral is worthy of an action that benefits the majority of the population and minimizes the negative consequence of the action, thus the "greatest happiness rationale" rules. This further implies that the welfare of the entire population is more important than the welfare of a sole individual.

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Live action 'film' of "The Lottery" that alludes that everyone is susceptible to the COVID-19 lottery regardless of age

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Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” - Coronavirus Edition

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When Shirley Jackson's chilling story "The Lottery" was first published in 1948 in The New Yorker, it generated more letters than any work of fiction the magazine had ever published. Readers were furious, disgusted, occasionally curious, and almost uniformly bewildered.

The public outcry over the story can be attributed, in part, to The New Yorker's practice at the time of publishing works without identifying them as fact or fiction. Readers were also presumably still reeling from the horrors of World War II. Yet, though times have changed and we all now know the story is fiction, "The Lottery" has maintained its grip on readers decade after decade.

"The Lottery" is one of the most widely known stories in American literature and American culture. It has been adapted for radio, theater, television, and even ballet. The Simpsons television show included a reference to the story in its "Dog of Death" episode (season three).

"The Lottery" is available to subscribers of The New Yorker and is also available in The Lottery and Other Stories, a collection of Jackson's work with an introduction by the writer A. M. Homes. You can hear Homes read and discuss the story with fiction editor Deborah Treisman at The New Yorker for free.

Plot Summary

"The Lottery" takes place on June 27, a beautiful summer day, in a small New England village where all the residents are gathering for their traditional annual lottery. Though the event first appears festive, it soon becomes clear that no one wants to win the lottery. Tessie Hutchinson seems unconcerned about the tradition until her family draws the dreaded mark. Then she protests that the process wasn't fair. The "winner," it turns out, will be stoned to death by the remaining residents. Tessie wins, and the story closes as the villagers-including her own family members-begin to throw rocks at her.

Dissonant Contrasts

The story achieves its terrifying effect primarily through Jackson's skillful use of contrasts, through which she keeps the reader's expectations at odds with the action of the story.

The picturesque setting contrasts sharply with the horrific violence of the conclusion. The story takes place on a beautiful summer day with flowers "blossoming profusely" and the grass "richly green." When the boys begin gathering stones, it seems like typical, playful behavior, and readers might imagine that everyone has gathered for something pleasant like a picnic or a parade.

Just as fine weather and family gatherings might lead us to expect something positive, so, too, does the word "lottery," which usually implies something good for the winner. Learning what the "winner" really gets is all the more horrifying because we have expected the opposite.

Like the peaceful setting, the villagers' casual attitude as they make small talk- some even cracking jokes-belies the violence to come. The narrator's perspective seems completely aligned with the villagers', so events are narrated in the same matter-of-fact, everyday manner that the villagers use.

The narrator notes, for instance, that the town is small enough that the lottery can be "through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner." The men stand around talking of ordinary concerns like "planting and rain, tractors and taxes." The lottery, like "the square dances, the teenage club, the Halloween program," is just another of the "civic activities" conducted by Mr. Summers.

Readers may find that the addition of murder makes the lottery quite different from a square dance, but the villagers and the narrator evidently do not.

Hints of Unease

If the villagers were thoroughly numb to the violence-if Jackson had misled her readers entirely about where the story was heading-I don't think "The Lottery" would still be famous. But as the story progresses, Jackson gives escalating clues to indicate that something is amiss.

Before the lottery starts, the villagers keep "their distance" from the stool with the black box on it, and they hesitate when Mr. Summers asks for help. This is not necessarily the reaction you might expect from people who are looking forward to the lottery.

It also seems somewhat unexpected that the villagers talk as if drawing the tickets is difficult work that requires a man to do it. Mr. Summers asks Janey Dunbar, "Don't you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?" And everyone praises the Watson boy for drawing for his family. "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it," says someone in the crowd.

The lottery itself is tense. People do not look around at each other. Mr. Summers and the men drawing slips of paper grin "at one another nervously and humorously."

On first reading, these details might strike the reader as odd, but they can be explained in a variety of ways -- for instance, that people are very nervous because they want to win. Yet when Tessie Hutchinson cries, "It wasn't fair!" readers realize there has been an undercurrent of tension and violence in the story all along.

What Does "The Lottery" Mean?

As with many stories, there have been countless interpretations of "The Lottery." For instance, the story has been read as a comment on World War II or as a Marxist critique of an entrenched social order. Many readers find Tessie Hutchinson to be a reference to Anne Hutchinson, who was banished from the Massachusetts Bay Colony for religious reasons. (But it's worth noting that Tessie doesn't really protest the lottery on principle-she protests only her own death sentence.)

Regardless of which interpretation you favor, "The Lottery" is, at its core, a story about the human capacity for violence, especially when that violence is couched in an appeal to tradition or social order.

Jackson's narrator tells us that "no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box." But although the villagers like to imagine that they're preserving tradition, the truth is that they remember very few details, and the box itself is not the original. Rumors swirl about songs and salutes, but no one seems to know how the tradition started or what the details should be.

The only thing that remains consistent is the violence, which gives some indication of the villagers' priorities (and perhaps all of humanity's). Jackson writes, "Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones."

One of the starkest moments in the story is when the narrator bluntly states, "A stone hit her on the side of the head." From a grammatical standpoint, the sentence is structured so that no one actually threw the stone-it's as if the stone hit Tessie of its own accord. All the villagers participate (even giving Tessie's young son some pebbles to throw), so no one individually takes responsibility for the murder. And that, to me, is Jackson's most compelling explanation of why this barbaric tradition manages to continue.

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Analysis of 'The Lottery' by Shirley Jackson

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When Shirley Jackson's chilling story "The Lottery" was first published in 1948 in The New Yorker, it generated more letters than any work of fiction the magazine had ever published. Readers were furious, disgusted, occasionally curious, and almost uniformly bewildered.

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Short comparison of COVID-19 being a lottery of death similar to "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson

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"Horror grips us as we watch you die. All we can do is echo your anguished cries.

Stare as all human feelings die" (From "Wooden Ships", by David Crosby, Stephen Stills, and Paul Kantner)

Who gets to die in the COVID-19 lottery? Mostly the fatalities are the elderly and the infirm with diabetes, hypertension, respiratory or cardiovascular problems, or other health vulnerabilities. Increasingly, fatalities are infected and afflicted younger people and/or

the lower socio-economic strata skewed toward non-Caucasian.

It is reminiscent of the American classic short story, "The Lottery," by Shirley Jackson, where the person who draws the short straw in the village gets stoned to death.

Why should we dare infringe on the freedom of not wearing a mask in public, or on the lack of hand washing hygiene, or inadequate social-distancing practices, or eschewing gathering in large groups? So what if people die or get seriously ill from such manners and acts?

"[A]ny man's [or woman's] death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." ("Meditation XVII," John Dunne, 1623).

Why present an affront to Narcissus when President Trump does not? We can castigate and recriminate the president; however, this is not going to solve our COVID-19 pandemic.

To limit the spread of COVID-19, we need to implement the recommendations of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for social distancing, wearing masks in public and close proximity. hand washing hygiene, and not associating in sizeable groups.

By delusions, we are greatly forsaking these practices for some miraculous techno-optimistic solution, such as an anti-viral drug, or an anti-viral vaccine, or by thinking we are otherwise invincible and/or immune. Such is the selfishness by vanity of Narcissus. There is always the hope, though in the meantime, how many are to get infected, seriously ill or die?

Are we to learn from this? The changes from SARS-CoV-2 are and have been indelibly stamped on all humans and our world, our country and our communities: socioeconomically,

politically, racially, ecologically and technologically for a long time now. We must do better. "We are cruelly trapped between what we would like to be and what we actually are." (James Baldwin). Let's realize the need to be socially responsible, just and healthy, and make it so.

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Healthy Changes and the COVID-19 Lottery

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"Horror grips us as we watch you die. All we can do is echo your anguished cries. Stare as all human feelings die" (From "Wooden Ships", by David Crosby, Stephen Stills, and Paul Kantner) Who gets to die in the COVID-19 lottery?

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The Simpsons Full Episodes 2019 -Dog of Death Part 03

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The coronavirus pandemic takes me back to high school, and a short story by Shirley Jackson called "The Lottery." All of the villagers gather each June for the lottery. Some tentatively questioned why. The best answer seemed to be "Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon." Someone is sacrificed for the harvest. Or maybe for tradition. Nobody stood up to the local authority, Mr. Summers. The lottery proceeds.

First the unlucky family is named. All male heads of household step up and draw a number from the black box. Bill Hutchinson's family is named. Next each family member draws a folded paper. Bill's wife, Tessie, defiantly hesitates, but in the end takes her slip. One by one the kids open blank pieces of paper. Their lives are spared. "It's Tessie," said Mr. Summers. Her paper is revealed, showing the black dot.

Nobody questions what must come. Tessie is surrounded by her neighbors, stones in hand. She desperately held her hands out. "It isn't fair, it isn't right" Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.

We are in an inverted version of "The Lottery." The stones today are the coronavirus. It's as though the community came together in the square, gathered stones and then started randomly throwing them through the crowd.

When I venture out needlessly, I throw viral stones at you. When you don't wear a mask, you throw stones at me. We harm each other without meaning to. Tessie didn't think she'd get the black dot, and neither do we. The pandemic spreads. The bodies pile up.

We can stop this viral lottery by changing our habits. If I stay inside when sick, practice social distancing and cover my face in public, you are protected. If you do the same, I am protected. By changing our habits, we can stop the hail of stones.

Hopefully testing, contact tracing and quarantining will be in place soon. Then we can cautiously start opening things up. Till then we need to hang tough, and keep each other safe. We can get through this.

* Robert Welton is a retired State of Alaska employee, who worked for 17 years as an administrative officer at the Department of Fish and Game. He resides in Douglas. Columns, My Turns and Letters to the Editor represent the view of the author, not the view of the Juneau Empire.

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Opinion: We're living in an inverted version of 'The Lottery' | Juneau Empire

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The coronavirus pandemic takes me back to high school, and a short story by Shirley Jackson called "The Lottery." All of the villagers gather each June for the lottery. Some tentatively questioned why. The best answer seemed to be "Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon." Someone is sacrificed for the harvest.

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The Huffington Post, December 2013

American Constitution Society, December 2013

3 Pages Posted: 18 Jan 2014

Date Written: December 1, 2013

Abstract

Reflecting on the one-year anniversary of the Sandy Hook elementary school shooting, this very short essay compares the experience of gun violence in America to the dystopian game of chance in Shirley Jackson's classic American short story, "The Lottery." With references to the role of Constitutional law, media consumption, and cultural change, it urges an available, common-sense middle ground on gun policy. The essay was first published by the American Constitution Society (Dec. 17, 2013) and later appeared in the Huffington Post (Dec. 20, 2013).

Keywords: Newtown shooting, Sandy Hook shooting, Clackamas Town Center shooting, gun violence, gun control, gun rights, gun culture, Constitutional law, Second Amendment, background checks, mental illness and guns, assault weapons, videogame violence, television violence, Shirley Jackson, The Lottery

Suggested Citation

Ryan, Erin, The Great American Gun Violence Lottery (December 1, 2013). The Huffington Post, December 2013, American Constitution Society, December 2013, Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=2380306

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The Huffington Post, December 2013 American Constitution Society, December 2013 3 Pages Posted: 18 Jan 2014 Date Written: December 1, 2013 Reflecting on the one-year anniversary of the Sandy Hook elementary school shooting, this very short essay compares the experience of gun violence in America to the dystopian game of chance in Shirley Jackson's classic American short story, "The Lottery."

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This article will discuss current issues surrounding the administration of capital punishment in the U.S. with insights from Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery". The story itself shows the atavistic nature lurking beneath humankind's civilized surface and leads the reader to examine such notions as scapegoating, ritual cleansing, gender, class structure, arbitrary condemnation, and sanctioned violence. There may be more truth in Jackson's short story than the reader cares to confront. This opens the possibility that fiction can give us more insight into value issues than other sources can. Although fiction is made up of imaginary elements, it is true to reality and human experience. The legal historical reality of capital punishment and its subsequent implementation as it has existed and still exists in our culture purports to establish and maintain what amounts to a legal fiction of its own. In this story, Jackson presents us with a glimpse into humankind's past and brings the reader to question the justification and use of capital punishment in our culture.

Keywords: Arbitrary Condemnation; Atavism; Capital Punishment; Ritual Cleansing; Sanctioned Violence; Scapegoating

The less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. (Mark Twain)

It is a pleasant day in late June. The townsfolk gather in the village square as they do each year for this event. All attention is focused on the annual lottery drawing. Families anxiously wait to hear whose name will be called this time. The suspense finally ends when Tessie Hutchinson's name is drawn and announced. The townspeople then proceed to savagely stone her to death.

As high school students, most American readers have been exposed to Shirley Jackson's startling short story "The Lottery." The incident that is usually associated with the story is the above‐mentioned random execution of a member of the community in what appears to be a barbaric primitive ritual grounded in tradition. The death by stoning is ritually performed by fellow villagers who seem to be "common decent folks" and believe that what they are doing will somehow benefit the common good.

So what is it exactly about this story that seems so shocking to readers? Why is it that most recall this particular incident so vividly? And how is a work of fiction written in 1948 significant to our understanding of present day issues of social justice as they relate to our criminal justice system and its processes?

What the story tells us as a work of art, amplified by sociological and anthropological perspectives, proves relevant to our current society's policies on capital punishment.

What appears to shock the reader may be the notion of the inherent unfairness of the act, since it involves the killing of an innocent victim. But beyond this, the arbitrary nature of the selection process of who is to be executed haunts us and leaves us with feelings of uneasiness. It is precisely this feeling of uneasiness about an arbitrary execution that moved readers to react to this story at the time it was published. In fact, the controversy surrounding Jackson's work caused the cancellation of hundreds of subscriptions to the New Yorker where it first appeared. Ironically, it was later adapted for television, radio, and ballet.

Jackson had apparently hit a nerve by presenting a fictional arbitrary execution that appears to happen on a regular basis with the complete support of the citizenry. Referring to the furor caused by the 1948 publication of the story, Jackson said, "Millions of people, and my mother, had taken a pronounced dislike of me." She goes on to say:

[O]f the three hundred odd letters that I received that summer, I can count only 13 that spoke kindly to me, and they were mostly from friends. People at first were not so much concerned with what the story meant; what they wanted to know was where these lotteries were held, and whether they could go there and watch. ([ 3], p.1311-1312)

Harold Bloom seems to agree that Jackson hit a universal nerve and suggests that the shock effect achieved by Jackson "depends upon tapping into a universal fear of arbitrary condemnation, and of sanctioned violence" ([ 2], p. 9). In response to readers being upset, Jackson responded that "she wanted to dramatize graphically the 'pointless violence' in peoples lives, to reveal the general inhumanity to man" ([ 5], p. 64).

Bloom ([ 2]) goes on to suggest that "The Lottery" "is crisply written and cunningly plotted. But it scarcely bears rereading, which is the test of canonical literature" (p. 9). Nevertheless, it has been widely anthologized, and a rereading may be useful in the context of literature relating to issues of social justice and utopia, the kind of world we would like to live in. The fact that the story seems to be such a transparent attack on blind obedience to tradition may be the reason that no further explanation is necessary. But it is not just an attack on mindless, cultural conformity; it is a suggestion of evil inherent in human nature ([ 4]).

The feelings of uneasiness caused by executions being performed in an arbitrary manner reverberates on several levels. First, we see the characters within the story itself begin to question the necessity of the ritual. Though these ritual executions seem to have the support of the entire community and have been carried out for as long as everyone seems to remember, a doubt seems to linger. Mrs. Adams tells us, "Some places have already quit lotteries" ([ 9], p. 77). On another level, we as readers feel quite uncomfortable observing such blind obedience to tradition among the villagers. And further, we as readers may be likely to make a connection as we witness modern day executions and realize that there is arbitrariness in these instances as well.

To what degree do we as individuals resemble the different villagers? Do we accept executions as part of our cultural tradition or do we question the manner in which they are performed? As we well know, some places have already quit executions.

The title Jackson has chosen for her story reinforces the underlying meaning. Our lives, in many instances, are subject to fate or chance. This is not a new theme in literature but it takes on special meaning when related to issues of justice and society. Justice, as it relates to life, especially life on death row, becomes like a lottery.

Not all people who kill or are convicted of killing are executed. Between 1976 and 1998, 5,553 people were sentenced to death; 403 were executed. Does this make the death penalty an "arbitrary lottery," as opponents claim, or a filter reserving death for only the worst offenders, as supporters claim? ([13], p. 157)

The decision to execute is dependent on many variables not related to the offense itself. Our present day policy of state sanctioned execution is shrouded in a legal myth that blatantly ignores reality. The certainty of execution for capital offenses is guided not just by the nature of the offense but by race, class, gender, geography, media attention, and political variables. Jackson's story prods the reader into confronting these realities by her shocking ending.

The setting and atmosphere of "The Lottery" significantly contribute to the impact and meaning of the story. Jackson opens the story on the morning of June 27. It is a clear and sunny day, the grass is green and the flowers are blooming. Townsfolk gather in the village square for an annual event and exchange smiles and small talk. This setting, however, conveys an atmosphere which is deceptive since this pleasant summer gathering will sharply change and eventually lead to ritual murder. Jackson uses this atmosphere to increase the irony of the story.

The setting where the story takes place appears to be a New England town, very likely North Bennington, Vermont. Shirley Jackson was married to Stanley Edgar Hyman, a literary critic who taught at a nearby college. The significance of the locale would be historically relevant because of New England's history of witch trials and persecutions ([19]). These were essentially rituals conducted out of fear and involved selecting certain individuals to be executed as scapegoats for the good of the community.

Ritual executions involve notions of ritual pollution and ritual purification. The end result is thought to have been a type of ritual cleansing through the execution of the accused. The villagers in Jackson's story see this as being accomplished through their annual event and this may provide insights into our own cultural acceptance of executions.

Yarmove ([19]) suggests that there is significance in the day of June 27 being chosen by Jackson to begin her story. The summer solstice (June 21) has already passed and the Fourth of July has not yet arrived. June 27 falls halfway between these two dates. He explains that in European societies, Midsummer's Day was celebrated at the summer solstice, not in the middle of summer as its name would suggest. It had a long, heathen, orgiastic tradition behind it. American Independence Day, on the other hand, is redolent of democracy, freedom, and to a certain degree, justice, because it marks the birth of a nation anchored in the belief that people are "endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights. June 27 bisects the two weeks between these two dates and may well embody the contrast between superstitious paganism and rational democracy, a dynamic that plays a central role in 'The Lottery,' especially in light of the story's locale" ([19]).

The annual summer gathering of the villagers seems rather routine. The men mingle and speak of planting, rain, tractors, and taxes. The villagers prepare for the lottery as they would for any other business function which is essential to the conduct of the community.

Griffin tells us that:

[A] good harvest has always been vital to civilizations. After the fields have been prepared and the seeds are sown, the farmer can only wait and hope that the proper balance of rain and sun will ensure a good harvest. From this hope springs ritual. ([ 7], p. 44)

And so we see Old Man Warner who has been through the lottery 77 times saying, "Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon" (S. Jackson, [ 9]/1999, p. 77). Griffin goes on to say that:

Many ancient cultures believed that growing crops represented the life cycle, beginning with what one associates with the end-death. Seeds buried, apparently without hope of germination, represent death. But with the life forces of water and sun, the seed grows, representing rebirth. Consequently, ancient peoples began sacrificial rituals to emulate this resurrection cycle. What began as a vegetation ritual developed into a cathartic cleansing of an entire tribe or village. By transferring one's sins to persons or animals and then sacrificing them, people believed that their sins would be eliminated, a process which has been termed the "scapegoat" archetype. ([ 7], p. 44)

In the Jungian sense, archetypes are complexes of past collective experience represented by rituals and symbols and even more or less civilized people remain inwardly primitive. Jung's collective unconscious has been described as a storehouse that contains latent memory traces inherited from man's ancestral past. The crowd of townsfolk in Jackson's story appears to be under a hypnotic spell of sorts. And so we discover that the "original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago," and "so much of the ritual had been forgotten or discarded" (S. Jackson, [ 7]/1999,p. 75).

The group experience then lowers the level of consciousness. Therefore, the base actions exhibited in groups, such as the stoning of Tessie Hutchinson, do not take place on an individual level, for here such actions would be deemed "murder." On the group level, people classify their heinous act simply as "ritual." Although civilized people may no longer hold lotteries, Jackson's story illustrates society's tendency toward violence and its tendency to hold onto tradition, even meaningless, base tradition, revealing our need for both ritual and belonging ([ 7]). It is not a far stretch of the imagination to view public acceptance of executions in this light. Violence and fear of violence lead to more violence. It is a never ending cycle that gains acceptance like tradition.

Jackson has chosen a third person point of view. As readers, we are unaware of the narrator. In a sense, we mingle with the crowd of villagers and become participants as onlookers. The narrator seems to disappear into the crowd. We are left alone to make judgments and draw conclusions. Jackson presents the events but we must decide why they occurred and what they mean. We are presented with a moral and ethical scene and sit as judge and jury.

Most of the villagers are faceless, nameless onlookers who seem to participate in the annual ritual in a somewhat robotized trance. They smile but do not laugh. They do not question the authority and tradition of these executions that has convinced them that what they are doing is somehow in their best interest.

Mr. Graves, Mr. Summers, and Mr. Martin are characters Jackson has chosen to represent the power and authority within the community. Peter Kosenko ([11]) suggests that the village exhibits the same socio‐economic stratification that most people take for granted in a modern capitalist society. He looks at the upper social hierarchy of the village and observes that Mr. Summers, who conducts the lottery, owns the village's largest business (a coal mine). He is wealthy and, as his name suggests, has the time and energy to devote to civic affairs. Mr. Graves who assists him is the village's second most powerful government official-the postmaster. His name reinforces the solemnity of the occasion and is associated with death. And beneath Mr. Graves is Mr. Martin, who has the economic advantage of being the small town grocer. These three economic and politically powerful men also happen to administer the lottery. Kosenko notes that in the off season, the lottery box is stored either at their places of business or their houses.

Jackson tells us that Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves make up slips of paper to be used in the drawing and store them in the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company where they are locked up until the morning of the lottery. For the rest of the year, the box is put away in Mr. Graves' barn, underneath the post office, or on a shelf in Mr. Martin's grocery store. Kosenko ([11]) draws the connection: who controls the town also controls the lottery. Kosenko goes on to say that the lottery takes place in the village square between the post office and the bank, two buildings which represent government and finance, the institution from which Summers, Graves, and Martin derive their power. They represent authority, power, tradition, and conformity. Executions are symbolic rituals that magnify the power and authority and forcibly remind the citizenry of the immense coercive power behind the law ([10]).

On the other hand, we meet Tessie Hutchinson, the protagonist, who exhibits a rebellious nature. Tessie challenges the sanctity of the affair by being late for the lottery: "Clean forgot what day it was," she says to Mrs. Delacroix. And later we will see her speak out defiantly about the justness of the whole process when she is selected to be executed. Yarmove ([19]) suggests that her name is significant. It is the irony that lies behind the protagonist's name, Tessie Hutchinson, that magnifies the allegorical force in this story. Historically, there really was a well known New England Hutchinson-Annie Hutchinson, who, having been exiled from Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1638 because of her religious beliefs, emigrated to Rhode Island, where she established her own church ([19]). In Salem witchcraft trials, purification rituals expelled the suspected pollutants in a similar fashion that modern day executions purport to do and in a similar arbitrary manner. Tessie Hutchinson serves this function for the greater good of the community. The community sees the lottery as serving this function also.

On its surface, Jackson gives us a story that seems to be an obvious attack on blind obedience to tradition but, beyond this, we may gain some insights into our own acceptance of obedience to tradition as it relates to capital punishment. Coulthard ([ 4]) points out that it is not the ancient custom of human sacrifice that makes the villagers behave so badly, but that it is their thinly veiled cruelty that keeps such a custom alive. Savagery fuels evil tradition and not the other way around. He notes from the beginning that the villagers display no genuine human community, no real bond of love of any type. We cannot help but detect the absence of family loyalties as evidenced by Tessie Hutchinson disputing the results of the drawings once her name is drawn, by making attempts to lower her chances of being chosen and attempting to draw her own married children into the situation.

Jackson's story prods the reader into confronting the realities of modern day execution rituals by presenting a fictional counterpart. Many people in contemporary society have preconceived ideas about capital punishment, why it is done, what purpose it serves, and to whom it is done. Many of us are guilty of accepting custom and tradition without questioning it. Many of us are socialized into this process from such a young age that it goes without examination. At the beginning of Jackson's story, we see that little Bobby Martin had stuffed his pockets full of stones and that the other boys will soon follow. We guard our traditions and beliefs as if they are sacred burial mounds that should be beyond reproach. We see little Bobby and Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix making a big pile of stones in their own corner of the square and guarding it against the raids of the other little boys.

Stones are mentioned five times at the beginning of the story and then five or more times near the end. We must assume that Jackson has attached some symbolic significance to these objects she has selected to include. The use of stones in execution rituals has historical and biblical significance.

Jackson has chosen simple objects such as stones, a box, and slips of paper to represent the workings of a simple‐minded solution to provide for the betterment of the community. The villagers accept this solution in a trance‐like state because it has always been done that way. The ritual has lost its significance, and the purpose has long been forgotten.

The black box used to draw the lottery slips of paper from has become splintered and faded, suggesting replacement may be necessary. Mr. Summers suggests that a new box be made but this upsets the villagers because tradition is involved here. He was successful in having slips of paper substituted for the wood chips that were originally used as lots to be drawn. The increasing numbers of people involved in lotteries demanded a change in the technology used. But most of the history of the lottery and the black box is somewhat vague, creating a feeling of uncertainty.

It is this feeling of uncertainty about the arbitrariness of ritual executions that has cultural implications for us today and gives added meaning to Jackson's story. We now view ritual executions in cultures like the 14th‐century Aztecs as archaic and barbaric and indicative of a primitive atavistic nature. But the U.S. is among a tiny handful of countries that are responsible for the majority of executions worldwide. In fact, 80% of all known state‐sanctioned executions took place in China, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Iran, and the United States ([16]).

In the U.S., not everyone who is responsible for killing someone is executed. As the saying goes, many are called but few are chosen. What then, determines whose name is drawn? There are a variety of variables unrelated to the act itself that lead to these fatal decisions: race, geography, gender, politics, media, and class.

The relationship of race and capital punishment has a long history. Numerous researchers allude to the notion that blacks are more likely to receive the death penalty than are whites charged with the same crime, indicating systemic racial bias in the administration of capital punishment ([17]).

Justice Powell, author of the majority opinion in McLeskey, admitted the inability to conduct executions expeditiously and in a nonarbitrary manner had since led him to reject the post‐ Furman jurisprudence with which he had been so intimately involved. He referred to this as a failed experiment and said he regretted his decision ([17]).

However, it is not just the race of the offender that extends the odds of execution but also the race of the victim. This is especially true if the victim is white. Blacks who kill whites are more likely to proceed to a capital trial than the other way around ([17]).

If the death penalty operates in a just manner, it would be imposed fairly regardless of race and region. Arbitrariness involving racial and regional applications has policy implications. Murders committed in certain geographical regions, especially Southern states (sometimes referred to as the Death Belt), are more likely to result in death penalties than others. One's chances of being executed in a Southern state are roughly three times greater than if convicted of the same crime elsewhere ([ 9]).

Another variable that needs to be addressed and which determines who is to live and who is to die is gender. Sex bias has been recognized by legal scholars such as Justice Thurgood Marshall ([14]) in Furman v. Georgia. There is also overwhelming evidence that the death penalty is employed unfairly against men and not women. It is difficult to understand why women have received such favorable treatment since the purposes allegedly served by capital punishment are seemingly applicable to both sexes. Female offenders are unlikely to be arrested for murder, are only very rarely sentenced to death, and almost never executed. Males who commit homicides are nearly seven times as likely to be sentenced to death as are females who commit homicide ([18]).

The death penalty operates like an old used car that starts and stops at will. A particularly insightful analysis is provided by Alex Kozinski and Sean Gallagher:

The net effect is that we have little more than an illusion of a death penalty in this country. To be sure, we have capital trials; we have convictions and death sentences imposed; we have endless and massively costly reviews by the state and federal courts; and we do have a small number of people executed each year. But the number of executions compared to the number of people who have been sentenced to death is miniscule, and the gap is widening every year. Whatever purposes the death penalty is said to serve-deterrence, retribution, assuaging the pain and suffering of the victims' families-these purposes are not served by the system as it now operates. (Kozinski & Gallagher, [12], p. 1)

Media and politics also influence who is likely to be executed. The amount of attention particular media devote to particular homicides must have an impact on prosecuting attorneys, especially those with political ambitions. As in all cases, some cases proceed to trial and others do not. Some are plea bargained and some have their charges reduced to other offenses. Someone makes these decisions, whether we consider them arbitrary or not.

Other types of unfairness also persist, especially class distinctions. James Acker addresses the issue of social class and capital prosecution:

Defendants not wealthy enough to hire the best legal talent-the kind that anyone accused of a crime would want if his or her own neck were on the chopping block are too often abandoned to the services of lawyers who lack the resources, experience, or ability to mount a decent defense. Whereas, financially well‐off murder defendants will hire a dream team of lawyers and experts, indigents may be saddled with a fatal nightmare; lawyers who drink on the job, sleep through trials, and are grossly inept. Many observers see more than a grain of truth in the old saying: If you don't have the capital, you get the punishment. ([ 1], p. 181)

Recent discoveries utilizing DNA technologies indicate that mistakes occur in capital cases and innocent people have been executed by the state. The discovery that 13 defendants had been wrongfully convicted and sentenced to death in Illinois in a little over a decade prompted Governor Ryan of Illinois to order a moratorium on executions in that state effective January 2000 (Governor's Commission on Capital Punishment, 2002). Acker notes that "most nations throughout the world, and in particular those endorsing democratic values shared by the U.S., have chosen to abolish capital punishment in law or practice" and also says that

[T]he death sentences that are eventually carried out-at no time exceeding 100 annually over a quarter century since executions resumed in 1977, in a nation where 15,000 to 20,000 intentional homicides have been committed each year-are deliberately hidden from view and cloaked in euphemisms that shield a distant public from the grim realities of state‐sponsored killings. (2003, p. 182)

It is hard for some to imagine abolition of capital punishment in our culture. They equate abolition with undermining law and morality. But it is precisely law and morality that are being undermined by the arbitrary administration of capital punishment.

If we acknowledge that the death sentence is imposed arbitrarily based on social class, race, gender, geography, and other variables and puts innocent people at risk, then, "the time may be at hand to condemn state killing for what it does to not for America and what Americans most cherish" ([15], p. 30). We must look beyond the mere act of execution and look at the meaning behind it all. This is what Jackson's story "The Lottery" allows us to do. And so in the final sentence of the story it is indeed fitting that when Tessie Hutchinson is arbitrarily selected from the crowd to be executed, she cries out: "It isn't fair, it isn't right..." (S. Jackson, 1948/1999 p. 79).
References Jacobs, D and Carmichael, J. (2002). The political sociology of the death penalty. American Sociological Review, 67: 109-131) Kosenko, P. (1985). A reading of Shirley Jackson's "The lottery.". New Orleans Review, 85 Kozinski, A and Gallagher, S. (1995). Death: The ultimate run‐on sentence. Case Western Reserve Law Review, 46: 1 MacionisJ(2002)Society: The basicsUpper Saddle River, NJPrentice‐Hall MarshallT(1972)Furman v. Georgia408 U.S. 238, 3 SaratA(2001)When the state kills: Capital punishment and the American traditionPrinceton, NJPrinceton University Press SennaJSiegalL(2001)Essentials of criminal justice(Instructor's 3rd ed.).Belmont, NYWadsworth Sorensen, J and Wallace, D. (1999). Prosecutorial discretion in seeking death: An analysis of racial disparity in the pretrial stages of case processing in a midwestern county. Justice Quarterly, 16: 558-578. Streib, V. (2002). Gendering the death penalty: Countering sex bias in a masculine sanctuary. Ohio State Law Journal, 63: 443-474. Yarmove, J. (1994). Jackson's "The lottery.". Explicator, 52: 242-245.
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By Patrick J. Shields

Reported by Author

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Arbitrary condemnation and sanctioned violence in shirley jackson's "the lo...: Discovery Service for Pensacola State College

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This article will discuss current issues surrounding the administration of capital punishment in the U.S. with insights from Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery". The story itself shows the atavistic nature lurking beneath humankind's civilized surface and leads the reader to examine such notions as scapegoating, ritual cleansing, gender, class structure, arbitrary condemnation, and sanctioned violence.

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The Lottery, by Shirley Jackson (Analysis & Interpretation)

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Emileigh keener

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Shirley Jackson's classic dystopian short story "The Lottery" ― often assigned in English classes, invoked when current events take a dark turn, and omnipresent in paeans to great short fiction ― holds a special place in the hearts of many readers. None more so, as it happens, than Miles Hyman, an illustrator and graphic novelist who also happens to be Jackson's grandson.

In a brand-new graphic adaptation of "The Lottery," Hyman translates his grandmother's famously spare, unyielding prose into an implacably ominous visual journey through one day in a small town with a dark secret.

The unbearable suspense of the original short story derives from Jackson's slow, detailed unspooling of the day's events, all building toward the yearly lottery, juxtaposed with her coyness about what the lottery is or means ― even as unmistakable tension mounts amongst the townspeople. In his graphic adaptation ― which Hyman spent decades mulling over before attempting ― it's a progression of scenes drawn from the book that lay the eerie groundwork. Without including much of the original text, or giving the whole game away, he depicts an ordinary little town that seems just slightly off-kilter, up until it becomes clear just how twisted the situation is.

In an email conversation, Hyman opened up to HuffPost about his approach to adapting "The Lottery," his grandmother's influence, and why the story remains so resonant. We've also excerpted several pages from the graphic adaptation to give just a glimpse into the creepy world Jackson created, and her grandson has reimagined:
What made you realize that you could adapt "The Lottery" as a graphic novel, despite being hesitant to do so in the past?
It took me awhile because I knew it would be an important book for me and, in short, I really wanted to get it right. On one hand "The Lottery" is considered a masterpiece of short fiction and is widely read, a respected part of our American literary heritage. On the other it has tremendous importance ― like all of my grandmother's writing ― to members of my family. (You wouldn't exactly call it a "family heirloom," but you see what I mean.)

So I was careful to set things in motion only when I felt that the graphic novel could really do something original and innovative with the story ― invite a new reading of this classic tale that has riveted but also inspired so many readers for generations. The folks at Farrar, Straus & Giroux (Hill and Wang) were excited about a graphic adaptation of the "The Lottery," and their enthusiasm was a definite "plus" since I had worked with them in the past and knew the high quality of the books they produce. Their support was absolutely essential.

Part of what took a while to work out was what form the adaptation should take. I had felt for years that a more traditionally illustrated version would be an effective way to adapt the story, but something about that direction felt too static.

Then came the chance for me to work on a series of graphic novel adaptations, working with great texts such as Jim Thompson's "Savage Night" and especially James Ellroy's "The Black Dahlia." I realized that this approach ― a graphic novelization ― would be an exciting direction for "The Lottery," a format that would best allow me to convey the electric tension of the original story in a new way. My feeling was that if the adapted story was to develop the same seamless crescendo of intensity that the original does, it would be important to make the reader feel like they were right there in the crowd ― as if they were participating in the ritual themselves. A graphic novelization allows for that degree of proximity that illustration sometimes doesn't.
What approach did you take to make use of the visual element to provide new insight to the story?
"The Lottery" is one of the most carefully constructed stories I've ever come across, so I knew that my drawings had to carefully respect the basic mechanics of the original text while rebuilding it as a graphic tale. This was no small task. In the original story much of the information shared with the reader about the ritual practice of the lottery itself is communicated with the help an omniscient narrator. However with graphic fiction you generally want to avoid over-using blocks of narrative text if at all possible. Action and dialogue tend to be much more effective storytelling tools when adapting a text in graphic form.

So I made the decision to "tease out" the opening scenes of the graphic novel with a series of nearly text-less sequences, based on small snippets of the original story. It's in these scenes that we get the bulk of our key information ― the essential visual landmarks that are going to help us navigate the action going forward.

For instance, the opening scene of the graphic novel introduces us to Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves, who meet in the dead of night to prepare the ceremony in the store-room of Mr. Summers' coal store. This new scene is actually inspired by a simple sentence of the original story that struck me as having a potentially strong visual impact, but which also lays the groundwork for what's to come by allowing the reader of the graphic novel "sit in" on this late-night encounter, in a sense.

As a result we have important visual elements in mind from the get-go: We meet two of the key characters and see them preparing the black box that has been sitting on a dusty storeroom shelf for the last 364 days. We're able to observe the folding of these curious pieces of paper that are going to be so important moving forward. And above all, we watch the men marking one of those pieces of paper with a mysterious black dot. The theatrical principle known as "Chekhov's Gun" comes to mind. We're left with a gut feeling that this strange marked paper, visible for an instant and then hidden away in the black box in the first scene of the graphic adaptation, will inevitably have some sinister impact on the story as events unfold. And, of course, it does.

Beyond developing a familiar setting for the decor and characters in the earliest passages of the graphic novel, the main challenge in adapting "The Lottery" revolved around creating the right choreography for the lengthly, increasingly vivid exchange between the various villagers as the ritual draws to its terrifying conclusion. That's where my fondness for unusual angles, composition and lighting came into play!

I have to admit that I very much enjoyed making that scene work as a graphic experience for the reader. As a "spectator," we're constantly moving in and out of the crowd, alternating close-ups on facial expressions with wide-angle views of the village and its inhabitants grouped together in the square, as if we were simultaneously a participant in the event and a neutral observer. Working with this part of the story was a challenge but also great fun to do. It feels like the adaptation does something I'm particularly proud of. By creating "The Lottery" as a visual experience, we're able to see aspects of the story from a new and sometimes unexpected point of view, giving the reader a new take on a story so many of us thought we knew by heart.
How did you adapt your artistic style to fit the literary style of "The Lottery"?
When readers of The New Yorker discovered the story in June 1948, many of them believed they were not reading fiction at all but an eyewitness account of something Shirley Jackson had just experienced a few days earlier.

In her essay "Biography of a Story," my grandmother spoke about how surprised she was by the letters she received, asking for (and sometimes demanding ) details about the ceremony. Many curious readers actually wanted to come watch the following year's lottery in person! I think that the simple, meticulous quality of her writing explains part of the shock readers feel when they first experience the story, and I felt like the drawings ― while not hyper-realistic in style ― needed to be realistic enough that we might feel they were inspired by observed events.

So while I've sometimes used a more stylized sort of drawing in my previous graphic novels, in the case of my adaptation of "The Lottery" I was careful to stay as close as possible to a style of drawing that looks generally more realistic than other books of mine.
What influence, if any, has your grandmother's work had on you as an artist?
With time, I've come to notice quite a few parallels between my grandmother's work and my own. I do all sorts of illustration, for a wide variety of publishers, but perhaps what I like best tends to be that intense interplay of light and shadows that has come to typify so much of my work. As a result, publishers tend to associate my work with certain genres ― detective novels, horror stories, etc. This being said, like Shirley Jackson's work, there is also a contrasting lighter side to my work that is equally important ― children's books, editorial pieces.

I admire my grandmother's ability, even in her most terrifying novels, to include elements of dark comedy. I think we share a common taste for this paradoxical blending of humor and horror. Whether it's an artistic influence or just a family trait is up for debate, but I certainly recognize a common artistic taste for these qualities that would generally seem mutually exclusive.
This graphic adaptation of "The Lottery" will be publishing less than a month before a very controversial presidential election in the U.S. Do you think the book has any useful lessons for voters or citizens today, in particular?
Hmm ... I wouldn't want to draw any direct parallels between a short story written in 1948 and our current political environment. Any analogies would obviously be imperfect at best and the last thing I'd want to do would be to bend the story's meaning to address current events. As my grandmother might have said, "The Lottery" is just a story.

This being said, the story in question has clear allegorical qualities that make its meaning timeless. Part of the tale's impact comes from its ability to speak to something broader and deeper than the fictional events it describes. Those elements are what has made the story so unsettling to people over the years. I guess "The Lottery" speaks to something latent in all of us, whether or not we choose to face it.

Jackson explores our proclivity to bow to rote tradition and ritual out of fear ― or, worse still, out of complacency, perpetuating conventions that are not only archaic but downright inhuman simply because we lack the courage to change them.

Something tells me my grandmother had many things on her mind when she wrote this dark tale in 1948: the country was still traumatized from an apocalyptic World War, coming to terms with the unimaginable horror of the Holocaust. Jim Crow-era legislation continued to segregate citizens based on the color of their skin, while "red scare" policies began persecuting some Americans based on their political convictions. Economic gains brought prosperity to much of the nation but fear, entrenched hatred and archaic conventions determined much of the rigid social and political boundaries that dominated our country during these conservative post-war years. It doesn't sound like anything we'd want to go back to.

My grandmother always turned down her readers' requests to explain the meaning of "The Lottery." Evoking her refusal to do so in his introduction to the posthumous omnibus The Magic of Shirley Jackson my grandfather, literary critic Stanley Edgar Hyman, recalled her pride upon learning that the Apartheid-era Union of South Africa had banned "The Lottery." According to my grandfather she allowed herself a rare enigmatic quip in reaction to the news: "At least they understand the story," she said.

At work in my studio over the last year, listening to a steady stream of radio news as the graphic adaptation of "The Lottery" took shape on my drawing table, I couldn't help but be struck by how pertinent this short story continues to be today, nearly 70 years after its original publication. Never in my lifetime have we seen a political environment so laced with those old toxic emotions: fear and hatred. Seen through the eyes of my grandmother's classic tale, some of what has been said during this election cycle has, if anything, taken Old Mr. Warner's irate rants to a whole new level of shrill demagoguery.

You could argue that "The Lottery" has only one hero: the reader. The story's ultimate goal is perhaps to "shock us awake," so that we might be moved to act differently the next time we're confronted with stale ideas that perpetuate senseless cruelty, bigotry or injustice. If anything positive should come from the harrowing spectacle of watching our political discourse degenerate into reality TV, perhaps the current election cycle ― like the reading of my grandmother's dystopic tale of horror ― might just shock us awake as a nation, encouraging us to move together beyond this dark and ugly place we seem to be in.

But, again: "The Lottery" is just a story.
This interview has been edited.
Pages from Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery": The Authorized Graphic Adaptation by Miles Hyman, published by Hill and Wang, a division of Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Copyright © 2016 by Miles Hyman. All rights reserved.

BEFORE YOU GO

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This Shocking Short Story From 1948 Has Never Felt More Necessary

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Shirley Jackson's classic dystopian short story "The Lottery" ― often assigned in English classes, invoked when current events take a dark turn, and omnipresent in paeans to great short fiction ― holds a special place in the hearts of many readers.

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Cultural and historical context of Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery

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Cultural and historical context of Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery

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Culture and history have always remained an important influence on literature. Literature has always mirrored the two forces that can be both cruel and inspiring in their own ways. Jackson's The Lottery can also be seen in this context. Culture is a powerful influence on people's lives which are bound by traditions and customs. Infact society and culture cannot be seen in separation from each other. So is literature, which generally mirrors the cultural values of its times. However, while culture can be a positive influence often, its hidden potential for evil has not gone undiscovered either.

Jackson discovers the macabre side of culture and its lethal potential in her short story 'The Lottery'. In the modern world, along with culture there are several forces like economic progress and globalization that have to a great extent balanced its negative impact. What unfolds in the Lottery reminds of none else but Taliban and its barbaric treatment of women. Jackson builds a powerful suspense that makes the brutality in the story deepen making the bloody event gloomier, shocking and absurd.

It is how the audiences of the times when Jackson wrote it found the story - absurd and shocking. All is progressing well until readers suddenly arrive at a point where their imagination is shocked and minds terrorized by the cruelty Tessie Hutchinson is slain with. As a short story, Jackson's work is quite engaging and quite pleasant until the sudden deathly end comes. The irony lies in the fact that it is a kind of lottery where the winner gets to lose his/her life.

Published in 1948, The Lottery was heavily criticized initially for the kind of horror of culture and customs it evokes. The subject matter was difficult to digest for most who felt inclined to condemn it. A reflection of Shirley Jackson's own life events could also be felt in the story. The author herself had led a troubled life of identity crisis and depression. It is why several critics argue that its influence has been on her works too. Writing provided her the solace that other things in her life could not afford.

As an adult, Jackson had to combat severe anxiety and depression for which she was forced to leave her college. However, the matter that Jackson raised in her work was related to superstitions and yet it was a macabre subject. Superstitions can kill but the way they do in The Lottery also brings out what kind of barbarism the society is capable of. In several societies around the world, traditions have always been considered above science and common sense. The story presents a common English village where all the general things are happening except one thing that the readers discover at the end.

It all looks simple and innocent until the villagers grow murderous and the Gothic event follows. The entire village had been preparing for the event and no one knew that whose turn it would be. It could have been a kid or an older woman. Tessi is a middle-aged woman and Jackson does not reveal her card until the one stone hits Tessie. However, the enthusiasm with which the whole village had been preparing for this barbaric event shows the importance of the traditions and rituals for the human society.

The practice is being abolished in the other villages but the village elders are reluctant. The oldest one in the village has been a part of this ritual at least 79 times. There is also a feminist angle to the short story. It is because the person who is murdered is a female and the ones who argue in the favor of these rituals are the village males and especially the elders who have enjoyed the custom since they were kids. They are caught in a cultural trap and cannot throw out an evil custom that they have followed for long. The innocent victim or its family cannot protest or retaliate because the entire society is standing on the other side.

The era in which the story was written was one of social unrest and war. At the time the world was confronted with brutal realities of war and terror of the atomic bomb. Apart from that, the society was still not very well developed. It was also the time of rise of communism. The story also deals with feminist issues. At the time of the publication of the story, the Western society including the US was still largely patriarchal. The subordinate position of the women in the society and there helpless status are also portrayed in the story. A Tessi crying that what they are doing to her is not justified evokes sympathy and mercy. However, her cries failed to evoke any sympathy from the people who have known her. The second she has been selected the winner, the people around her change.

The horror in the story leaves a lasting impression on reader's mind because of its suddenness. There are so many questions that come to mind. Can people be as merciless in the name of tradition? Has humanity been as cruel to its females? Can innocent looking people in a village society have the capability of as much evil? In how many corners of the world such sacrifices are still made? Jackson's The Lottery just unveils the horrors hidden within a civilized society with a dominant male mindset. However, the sarcasm is also more than evident in the story. People would blindly follow these customs even if they are turning them into animals. Traditions, customs and superstition have never rhymed with scientific and rational thought and never will.

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Shirley Jackson's The Lottery in a Historical and Cultural Context

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Culture and history have always remained an important influence on literature. Literature has always mirrored the two forces that can be both cruel and inspiring in their own ways. Jackson's The Lottery can also be seen in this context.

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The tradition of having two political powers, which is a bad tradition that was warned by George Washington and ties in how "The Lottery" Warns its audience the harm tradition brings.

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In The Lottery , a short story by Shirley Jackson, we are introduced to a quaint town living in what sounds like good old rural America and we get to see the town on a day of grand tradition: the Lottery. This Lottery was not like the Powerball however, but was an ingrained tradition in this society that was a ritualistic selection and then killing of a random member of the community. The bluntness of the short story was, in my opinion, a mechanism for decrying unquestioned societal traditions, whether it involves randomly bludgeoning citizens or other horrible acts that citizens do unquestioningly. That message of this short story is one that we as Americans need to take to heart and use to internally review the current some traditions that we have endured unquestioningly for decades at a time.

The first tradition I'd like to tackle is the process of elections in a presidential election cycle. If you have turned on your T.V., watched a YouTube video or glanced at a newspaper within the last year, the chances of you seeing something based around the 2016 elections are pretty damn high. What is worse is that over the course of that year long (and still incomplete) campaigning is that metaphorically (and physically if Trump had his way) other politicians, the media, and the public all hurl stones at the candidates they dislike until that candidate dies out. This time-honored tradition of "denigrate until dead" is more modern than other traditions, but to me is the most severe in how it has come to a head in the 2016 election cycle. America has allowed itself to see elections as a grand show of mudslinging and yelling (two things we get excited to see) with little substance and the not advocating the change of this process is more likely to kill us than being a member of a town practicing the "Lottery".

Keeping with political traditions, the second American tradition I think needs re-exploring is the two-party system. When George Washington himself warns of the dangers of having only two parties in power, one would think Americans would take that to heart and attempt to have a more pluralistic political society, but since the days of the Federalists and anti-Federalists we have really seen only two major political parties holding power at any time.

The tradition of telling voters to select either choice A or choice B for their elected official distorts the true nature of American political beliefs and making citizens choose between their lesser of two evils rather than a candidate that they fully support. Unlike the last tradition I tackled that rose out of consumers wants, this tradition stems from parties that have existed longer than their oldest members, really knocking home how we as Americans have let this slip by us for so long.
There are more American "traditions" that I have not included, but these two I have highlighted truly draw a parallel with The Lottery and its warning of following old traditions without question. While we do not drag citizens into the streets and stone them to death, metaphorically doing so to candidates or handicapping voters by offering them a small choice of candidates are things we as Americans have grown unquestioningly accompanied to, and I believe it is time we re examine our ways before we end up in a society like The Lottery .

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In The Lottery, a short story by Shirley Jackson, we are introduced to a quaint town living in what sounds like good old rural America and we get to see the town on a day of grand tradition: the Lo...

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Richard Lindgren: Governor Kim Reynolds lost a good two months of time pretending that her state was immune from the virus when she could have been turning over rocks testing for emerging hot spots. -promoted by Laura Belin
I do not live in Iowa anymore, although I did spend a lot of my years in a very rural part of the state. I still have grandchildren in Iowa and I can't help but watch with horror the slow-rolling disaster that is the "economic re-opening" of the state by Governor Kim Reynolds. It has brought from the deep recesses of my mind a classic short story written by Shirley Jackson, and I have realized that we are living this tale in real-time.

"The Lottery" was first published in 1948. During my youth, this work became a part of every American Literature curriculum. I confess that I neither understood the story nor grasped its importance until now.

Jackson's fable confused me as a teen because the story seemed so implausible. This idyllic small town conducts a lottery every year to pick one citizen at random. Then the entire town population, from the little children on up, begins to stone to death the unfortunate "lottery winner." With that gruesome act the story abruptly ends: "And then they were upon her."

Our English teachers tried to explain the concept of the scapegoat to us, as well as the immorality of mindless conformity, but I remember that whole scenario as seeming just too silly to be taken seriously.
Taking the probabilities seriously
I have been writing a lot recently about the trend lines and probabilities that characterize this novel coronavirus and the resultant tragic deaths from the new disease called COVID-19. The exponential spread of this virus has at times seemed to have a power of its own. However, there is a huge difference between trying to quickly uncover "God's coronavirus lottery picks" so that we can best direct our life-saving efforts versus what we are effectively doing in the re-opening plans of several "Red States." [1]

In these states, the Republican establishment has apparently decided that a growing number of not-so-random deaths is quite acceptable, because the nation's meat supply must be maintained at (quite literally) all costs. We even know who these virus victims are probabilistically most likely to be in Iowa. They work in your county's meatpacking plants and they live in your community's nursing homes.

Iowa's governor literally said about these loosened restrictions, "Isn't it a wonderful thing? Isn't this great?" She has in effect said here, "Get out the stones." Reynolds has moved this from a tragedy of the uncontrollable to the immorality of intentional harm.
The unreachable plan
In mid-April, the Trump administration released guidelines for economic re-openings based primarily on statistical success in addressing the COVID-19 numbers:

The guidelines recommend that states document a "downward trajectory" in cases of coronavirus and flu-like illnesses for two weeks before beginning a three-phase process to return to near normal work and social life. States should document another two weeks of declining cases before proceeding from one phase to another, the guidelines say, while a "rebound" in case numbers could mean reimposing some or all restrictions.

However, as I had written at Bleeding Heartland just days before that announcement, this plan would likely never work in states like Iowa or South Dakota that didn't have a New York-like flood of cases to begin with. The math of coronavirus in these mostly rural states has looked more like the cruel randomness of the "active shooter," with the virus finding targets in the grouped pockets of vulnerable people like immigrant slaughterhouse workers and nursing home residents.

The numbers of COVID-19 deaths in Iowa, both in absolute numbers and daily growth percentages, continue to rise rather than fall. [2] And because the state is mostly still testing known hot spots only, it is "looking for the lost keys only where the light shines the brightest."

Those federal guidelines remain a long way from working in Iowa; even the Trump administration seems to be pretending that they were never issued. Since she could not meet the federal guidelines, Governor Reynolds has apparently decided that there are "magic wall" boundaries between her counties, and so she has opened 77 of the 99 counties (colored gray on this map) for business.

Reynolds recently signed a $26 million no-bid contract with a controversial and inexperienced Utah company to expand testing in the state. I have advocated that the state also needs to be aggressively shining a very bright testing light "where the symptoms ain't" in order find the asymptomatic cases in the counties, health facilities and workplaces that officially report few cases right now. Because, I maintain, they do not have few cases. They are "the bullets that you don't hear," to use another analogy.

The governor lost a good two months of time pretending that her state was immune from the virus when she could have been turning over rocks testing for emerging hot spots.
Bad policy is also a spreading virus
My new home state of Florida is not doing any better. Until this week you still needed to go through many hoops in my county just to get tested. This usually included a doctor's prescription, which you could not obtain without symptoms. Still, Governor Ron DeSantis, has pulled out the old (bad) joke about Florida being "God's waiting room" to excuse the high number of deaths (1,268 to date), especially in elder-care facilities.

DeSantis even directed his state's health department to exclude from the death count the "snowbirds," those winter-only Florida residents (including many Iowans) who die while in the state. My spouse and I were snowbirds for about eight years before persistent problems with Iowa's intentionally kneecapped ACA health insurance exchange expedited our full-time move, in order to solidify our health insurance coverage. Our family remains in the "very high risk" category with this virus.

There are ways to move back away from a jaded acceptance of virus death to active engagement. Workplaces, especially the meatpacking plants, must vigorously fight the spread of this virus. Reports indicate that the government is making only voluntary requests for improving worker safety in the meatpacking plants. Instead, we should mandate paid leave in order to keep the economically desperate employees from showing up to work while sick. We should require the state to pay lodging costs for sick workers to isolate them from their families in order to stop the spread. And of course, we need contact tracing and testing, testing, testing.

Morality is a collective societal attitude. Do we accept many more deaths, knowing probabilistically where they will be, or do we fight it? When you are losing billions of dollars of economic activity, then it is surely worth millions of dollars of testing and tracing efforts to actively root out this virus in every corner of the state before it takes many more lives.
Richard Lindgren is Emeritus Professor of Business at Graceland University in Lamoni, Iowa, now retired in Gulf Coast Florida. He blogs at godplaysdice.com. Notes

1. It is important to recognize that some Republican-led states have been very tied to the math and the science from the outset in their response to COVID-19. I spent almost 20 years as an Ohio resident and rarely agreed with Mike DeWine, but as governor he has taken a very brave, science-based stand in protecting his state. He is to be commended. Republican Governor Larry Hogan of Maryland is another math-literate Republican doing an admirable, and often very creative, job in delivering key resources and life-saving policies to his state.

2. I use a seven-day average of the effective daily growth rate to smooth out the daily variances in state-reported cases and deaths. The Excel function for a seven-day exponential trend is RATE(7, 0, -day1count, day8count,,0.1).

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Living Shirley Jackson's story 'The Lottery' in real time - Bleeding Heartland

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Richard Lindgren: Governor Kim Reynolds lost a good two months of time pretending that her state was immune from the virus when she could have been turning over rocks testing for emerging hot spots. -promoted by Laura Belin I do not live in Iowa anymore, although I did spend a lot of my years in a very rural part of the state.

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Within this review of the recent Shirley Jackson biography, the author elaborates on why Jackson is highly relevant today.

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A biography by Ruth Franklin captures Shirley Jackson's punishing upbringing and marriage, which perhaps informed the destruction of heroines in her work.

Denise Nestor

Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life by Ruth Franklin Liveright

Haunted houses-the kind portrayed in countless books and movies-are designed to make their guests feel small and powerless, but also a tiny bit titillated in spite of themselves. Suspense builds slowly. Each creepy revelation incites curiosity first, then dread, then horror. The point is to seduce these mortals into exploring their own darkest corners, only to reduce them to a quivering pile of nerves. The best haunted houses don't murder their guests. Instead, they slowly and sublimely drive them mad.

For headstrong women who know their own desires, growing up in conventional society sometimes feels like inhabiting a haunted house. At first, there is so much promise, mysterious and tantalizing. As you pull open that heavy wooden door with the gargoyle knocker, you feel flattered by its intimidating proportions-you are necessary and important, maybe for the first time ever. But soon you catch fleeting glimpses of dark spirits who whisper in douche-bro baritones that you don't belong and never will. You develop a recurring suspicion that you're merely a pawn in some elaborate game, that even if you're brave you can never be a real player. The floor shifts under your feet, the walls shake, you awake at midnight to heavy breathing. she was asking for it is scrawled across the wall in blood. You tell your story the next morning, but no one believes you. Did you imagine the whole thing? Is some unearthly force trying to make you feel weak and lost? Or are you just losing your mind?

This kind of suspenseful badgering, with its malevolent and condescending patriarchal undertones, pervades Shirley Jackson's work. In the novels and many of the stories she wrote in the middle of the 20th century, the polite banter of seemingly innocent common folk develops into outright mockery, subterfuge, or even violence. When confronted by an unexpectedly hostile world, Jackson's female protagonists experience a climactic rush of bafflement and betrayal that inevitably spills over into a more private realm of second-guessing, self-doubt, and paranoia. Jackson relished untangling the process by which women lose themselves. She could stretch the ordeal out over the course of an entire novel, as she did in The Haunting of Hill House (1959), with the slow unraveling of lonely 32-year-old Eleanor Vance. Or she could foreshadow the whole harrowing experience in 40-odd pages, as she did with the start of her novel Hangsaman (1951), which reads like a modern parable of disempowerment.

In Jackson's vision, even smart bystanders can be at once suspicious of and vulnerable to the delusions, false gods, and blunt weapons of the rabble. Reading her work today sometimes feels like discovering a detailed prophecy not just of rape culture but of the vitriolic thugs who seem to rule the internet and have somehow invaded politics lately. Seven decades before Donald Trump's outraged mobs, Jackson unveiled the brutality and contempt that lurk beneath the surface of neighborly human interactions. From "The Lottery," her seminal portrait of a murderous horde of ordinary folks published in The New Yorker in 1948, to her final chilling novel, We Have Always Lived in the Castle (1962), in which a hostile gaggle of villagers harasses two sisters isolated in their dead parents' lonely house, Jackson felt compelled to sound the alarm on humanity: People are competitive and self-serving, and no one can be trusted.

According to Ruth Franklin's new biography, S hirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life, the author came to such stories honestly. Her mother hectored her mercilessly about her weight and bad habits from the time she was a child until the last days of her life. (Jackson died of an apparent heart attack in 1965, only 48.) The importance of keeping up appearances in polite society was central to Jackson's affluent upbringing in Burlingame, California, and Rochester, New York. Her mother's family was firmly grounded among San Francisco's wealthy elite, and her father was an executive in the printing business. But appearances were something Jackson rejected from an early age with her unruly auburn hair, unconventional style of dress, caustic wit, and swagger. And even though Jackson was confident and outspoken, she could find intimacy dangerous, a dark realm of judgment and scrutiny and deeply personal insults that-not surprising, given her mother's fixation on social standing-seemed to carry the verdict of the wider culture.

Liveright

By the time Jackson, then 21, met her husband, the New Yorker writer and literary critic Stanley Edgar Hyman, she was primed to accept condescension, belittling, and neglect as her natural habitat, according to Franklin. Early letters show that Hyman loved Jackson dearly and admired her work enormously-perhaps not easy, considering that his own writing career, though impressive, stalled just as Jackson's was taking off. For her part, Jackson was sure at the start of their relationship that she could control Hyman, and he didn't dispute that claim. "I am proud, and completely powerful," Jackson wrote of one of their first nights together.

But Hyman soon proved an emotionally inconstant mate, alternating between adoration and dismissiveness. He regularly cheated on Jackson, then relayed the details of his dalliances in letters to her. There was the "Polish slut of twenty-six" who was "damned good-looking in a consumptive way"; the three bohemian girls he met at a party ("I fondled them all indiscriminately [and] called all three of them 'baby' "); and the cute redhead in the apartment upstairs he romanced while Jackson was on vacation with her family.

Like any critic worth his salt, Hyman justified his behavior with ideology. In his view, all enlightened bohemians recognized that monogamy was a faulty construct designed for high-capitalist sheep. Jackson wrote him angry letters about his affairs, but rarely sent them. "You mustn't be so timid with Stanley," a mutual friend told her. "You let him categorize you and your emotions and your reactions just like he does his own." Instead, Jackson endured Hyman's treatment of her, as Franklin writes, choosing to "swallow her rage at his infidelity."

No slouch herself at compartmentalizing, Jackson managed to raise four children, mostly in a somewhat insular town in Vermont where Hyman taught literature at Bennington College. (Jackson once wrote of the faculty wife, "She is always just the teensiest bit in the way.") By all reports, Jackson charted her own course through the domestic expectations placed on her. A great cook, she balked at cleaning or playing the traditional, self-sacrificing mother but spent lots of time singing and reading books to her children. And while Jackson relished the magic of two smart women bonding (a staple of her work), she didn't seem to have that many close, lasting female friendships in real life-though not for lack of effort on her part. Even the pairs in Jackson's novels are inevitably threatened by jealousy, betrayal, and the larger forces (manipulative paramours, bloodthirsty mobs, supernatural beings) working against them. As Franklin keenly observes, "One of the ironies of Jackson's fiction is the essential role that women play in enforcing the standards of the community-standards that hurt them most."

In a biography densely packed with anecdotes, letters, highly detailed descriptions, and lengthy, thoughtful analyses of most of Jackson's work, Franklin paints a picture of Jackson as creatively fulfilled but isolated and unhappy. She relied on Hyman for critical feedback, but resented her dependence on him. She struggled with anxiety, struggled with her weight, struggled with nightmares and sleepwalking. Like many women of her generation, she was prescribed tranquilizers for her problems. Even as her work life began to thrive, and she eventually became the primary breadwinner-thanks in large part to her best-selling essay collection on domestic life, Life Among the Savages -Jackson felt alienated and emotionally starved. She had difficulty trusting people. With a husband pursuing an ongoing affair with her close friend, who could blame her?

No wonder so many of Jackson's works conjure a slow, simmering resentment that becomes almost hallucinatory, as if years of muting emotional reactions naturally warp perception, fueling a state of delirium. Franklin highlights this dynamic throughout her biography, tracing the lineage of belittlement from Jackson's mother to her husband, and underscoring the ways that Jackson was "shamed ... for legitimate and rational desires." Indeed, Jackson often wrote in journals and letters that she felt tricked by Hyman: "You once wrote me a letter ... telling me that I would never be lonely again. I think that was the first, the most dreadful, lie you ever told me." It is eerily fitting that when one of her purest dramatizations of this feeling of being misunderstood and manipulated, The Bird's Nest (1954), was adapted as a film ( Lizzie), the heroine wasn't depicted as "hysterical," the victim of emotional strains, both familial and social. She was portrayed as a flat-out lunatic.

But for Jackson, the heroine's destruction always begins with false promises-from parents, from lovers, from society at large. The process is embodied perhaps most brilliantly at the start of Hangsaman. At her parents' garden party, the 17-year-old ingenue Natalie Waite meets a strikingly confident woman named Verna, who tells her,

Little Natalie, never rest until you have uncovered your essential self. Remember that. Somewhere, deep inside you, hidden by all sorts of fears and worries and petty little thoughts, is a clean pure being made of radiant colors.

Later, though, Natalie's mother drunkenly rages over her husband's betrayals in a bedroom upstairs. "First they tell you lies," she says to Natalie,

and they make you believe them. Then they give you a little of what they promised, just a little, enough to keep you thinking you've got your hands on it. Then you find out that you're tricked, just like everyone else, just like everyone, and instead of being different and powerful and giving the orders, you've been tricked just like everyone else and then you begin to know what happens to everyone and how they all get tricked.

A now-tipsy Natalie escapes downstairs, but a strange older man presses her to tell him what she's thinking. "About how wonderful I am," she replies. The man seems angered by this, and leads her into the woods. Natalie's innocent shock at his intentions is truly heart-stopping: "Oh my dear God sweet Christ, Natalie thought, so sickened she nearly said it aloud, is he going to touch me?"

Jackson understood horror. She knew that horror requires an emotional seduction that is revealed to be a malevolent ruse: The ingenue experiences herself as radiant and powerful right before all her power is stripped from her. Clever young girls imagine they were born to be cherished, when instead they're created merely to be destroyed. In many of her stories, Jackson outlines how girls are groomed for this fate by overly critical mothers (or, in the case of Hangsaman, by a manipulatively intimate father). Worst of all, the recognition that the macabre universe you enter in maturity isn't fantasy-it's reality-sets you apart in the world, raving or drunk in some upstairs bedroom. Your choice is either to play along, or to lose your grip completely.

Whether that sounds hopelessly dark, to the point of paranoia, or terrifyingly prescient depends entirely on your particular perch. For me, Jackson's uncanny portraits of the fragmentation and collapse of the female psyche echo throughout contemporary culture, from the casual derision we lavish on all things female or feminine to the so-called fairy-tale celebrity marriages that are later revealed to be nightmares of verbal and physical abuse. The chilling 7,000-word letter a sexual-assault victim wrote to her Stanford attacker reads like a Jackson novel in miniature, in which darkness subsumes former innocence. By its end, we hear echoes of the last, haunting line of "The Lottery": "And then they were upon her." Has the world gone mad, or have we?

These feelings of dread and panic, paired with the desperate hope that the deluded crowd will snap out of it and come to its senses, lie at the heart of what makes Shirley Jackson's work unforgettable. Tapping into her own frustrations and agonies, she painted one exquisite portrait after another of that precise juncture where blustery confidence yields to helplessness and terror. The sinister forces the heroine perceives are real, but they're just ephemeral enough, by design, to make her doubt herself repeatedly. In the end, the self-possessed woman becomes the possessed.

The challenges we face during these dark times are not unlike those Jackson faced as she began to speak publicly and to embrace a wider community of writers in the years before her early death: We must trust our senses, trust our instincts, trust that inside each of us is a "clean pure being made of radiant colors." Then we have to search the faces of the mob for signs of the same.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.

Heather Havrilesky is a columnist at New York magazineand the author of How to Be a Person in the World.

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A biography by Ruth Franklin captures Shirley Jackson's punishing upbringing and marriage, which perhaps informed the destruction of heroines in her work. Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life by Ruth Franklin Liveright Haunted houses-the kind portrayed in countless books and movies-are designed to make their guests feel small and powerless, but also a tiny bit titillated in spite of themselves.

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Connects the sadism from "The Lottery" to modern society's sadism

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"The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green." So begins the most famous and widely anthologized of Shirley Jackson's short stories, "The Lottery." (the story's date was chosen to correspond with its 1948 publication in The New Yorker). That June 27th sounds rather like this June 27th (full-summer, profuse blossoming, etc.) at least from where I'm sitting. But unfortunately, the comparison doesn't stop at the weather.

There are many ways to read "The Lottery." Jackson herself famously refused to give her editors at The New Yorker an explanation for the text, even when the story received record letters and phone calls, many from readers horrified and desperate to understand the story's meaning. "It's just a story I wrote," she said. The standard response that The New Yorker 's Kip Orrsent to letter-writers was only slightly less vague: "Miss Jackson's story can be interpreted in half a dozen different ways. It's just a fable . . . She has chosen a nameless little village to show, in microcosm, how the forces of belligerence, persecution, and vindictiveness are, in mankind, endless and traditional and that their targets are chosen without reason."

The story's essential open-endedness, of course, is one of the reasons that it has become so famous. Its themes are indeed universal, and while it's clearly an allegory for something, the specifics of that something are unclear, and have thus become a juicy topic for debate in English classrooms and around dinner tables (depending, I suppose, on the dinner table). There are no perfect parallels. I don't want to force a facile interpretation. But reading the story today, almost 70 years after its publication, it's hard not to read it as a parable of systematic cruelty under the guise of civic decorum and knee-jerk adherence to "traditional" values-which, one might argue, is the entire Republican platform these days.

On reread, one thing I find striking in the story is the good humor of the townspeople as they assemble to ritually murder one of their own. How can they be joking and chatting with one another, I wonder? Well, of course it's simple: they don't really think it's going to be them who will be stoned to death. (After all, what are the chances?) It's so easy to participate in systemic cruelty when you think it doesn't actually touch you. For instance: do the Senators willing to vote for this draconian "health" bill imagine that they will ever be in a position where they might lose their health coverage? Same principle applies to all kinds of racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and other modes of discrimination. It's tempting to ignore these things when you're sure it won't be you who gets stoned to death in the town square. But the truth is that no one is exempt-the system that crushes one will crush all. Anyone can be chosen for the lottery.

It's also hard, reading this story today, not to pay extra attention to Old Man Warner, a survivor of many lotteries, who bitterly rejects reform and complains that "It's not the way it used to be . . . People ain't the way they used to be." This is one of those perennial complaints you hear from Republicans and other varieties of social conservatives. It's even echoed in their leader's slogan: Make America Great Again. That is, Make It The Way It Used to Be, whatever imaginary way that was. When no one complained on Twitter about the senseless systematic violence perpetrated against innocents, or challenged white supremacy, or insisted that women were also people, I guess. "You will not replace us," chanted Richard Spencer and his gang of torchbearers. I have no trouble imagining Old Man Warner among them.

In Jackson's lecture "Biography of a Story," posthumously published in Come Along With Me, she writes about the many letters she received after the publication of "The Lottery," and includes a few samples-some of these are quite funny, but many give me pause. One letter-writer from Texas asked, "What I would like to know, if you don't mind enlightening me, is in what part of the United States this organized, apparently legal lynching is practiced? Could it be that in New England or in equally enlightened regions, mass sadism is still part and parcel of the ordinary citizen's life?"

Well, as it turns out: yes. All right, perhaps not because of annual stonings-that I know of. Instead, we have a police force that repeatedly guns down black Americans. We have a new president who discriminates against entrants to the country based on their religion, and whose ascension brought with it a surge in hate crimes and demonstrations from overtly racist groups. We now have the aforementioned Senate health bill on the table, a cruel, bizarre piece of legislation which threatens to strip essential health care from our most vulnerable citizens-like those with chronic illnesses, those struggling with addiction or mental health problems, the poor, the elderly, even premature babies and their families-and will certainly be deadly for many of them. ("Simply put," President Obama wrote last week, "if there's a chance you might get sick, get old, or start a family-this bill will do you harm. And small tweaks over the course of the next couple weeks, under the guise of making these bills easier to stomach, cannot change the fundamental meanness at the core of this legislation.") If these things aren't evidence of mass sadism, I don't know what is. And if they're not part and parcel of your everyday life, you aren't paying enough attention.

The question then becomes: does a story like "The Lottery" have any chance of making us pay more attention? Can it fight against the forces that cause large groups of people to cling to outmoded beliefs out of fear and ignorance? In an interview conducted last October, Shirley Jackson's grandson, Miles Hyman-who recently published a graphic novel adaptation of "The Lottery"-thinks so. He explained that the story has special relevance during "a political environment so laced with those old toxic emotions: fear and hatred." He went on:

You could argue that "The Lottery" has only one hero: the reader. The story's ultimate goal is perhaps to "shock us awake," so that we might be moved to act differently the next time we're confronted with stale ideas that perpetuate senseless cruelty, bigotry or injustice. If anything positive should come from the harrowing spectacle of watching our political discourse degenerate into reality TV, perhaps the current election cycle-like the reading of my grandmother's dystopic tale of horror-might just shock us awake as a nation, encouraging us to move together beyond this dark and ugly place we seem to be in.

Well, we haven't gotten out yet. But I can say that I do feel slightly more awake today, more attuned to the dangers of the world. Maybe it's not enough to change anything, but every little bit counts.

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Systemic Cruelty, Mass Sadism, and Reading "The Lottery" in 2017

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"The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green." So begins the most famous and widely anthologized of Shirley Jackson's short stories, "The Lottery."

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Very opinionated article about reopening the economies during COVID times and compares with "The Lottery"

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Very opinionated article about reopening the economies during COVID times and compares with "The Lottery"

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Here's a question for all those people rushing headlong to reopen the U.S. economy, some of whom protested in various state capitals over the past week, including here in Virginia.

Which one of your children, siblings or parents should be sacrificed on the altar of Wall Street so that consumer spending can return to normal during the ongoing COVID19-outbreak?

If you're married or have a partner, have you flipped a coin to determine which one of you is more expendable?

I'll wait for your answer.

Many folks - conservative politicians, business groups and gun-rights activists among them - have screamed "Enough!" Their gut tells them it's time to rehire millions of laid-off employees, sit down in restaurants for dinner again and gather in ballparks, arenas and concert venues to cheer on athletes and entertainers.

They say it's time to quit or curtail the social distancing that's prevented the number of COVID-19 deaths and infections from rising even higher nationwide.

I'm not on their side.

I trust the scientists and infectious-disease experts, thank you. When they say we can go outside without a mask and shake hands sans regret, I'll follow that advice.

I listen to Dr. Anthony Fauci, the nation's top infectious disease expert - and one of the few officials willing to publicly correct the president's lies and falsehoods. Again on Monday, he warned against reopening the country too soon.

Besides, could you imagine Americans reverting to social distancing after the rules are relaxed? Given our nature, voluntary compliance will be that much tougher the second time around.

The Virginia Mercury is a new, nonpartisan, nonprofit news organization covering Virginia government and policy.

Submit a news tip.

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Before calling for reopening economies, ask yourselves who's expendable

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Here's a question for all those people rushing headlong to reopen the U.S. economy, some of whom protested in various state capitals over the past week, including here in Virginia. Which one of your children, siblings or parents should be sacrificed on the altar of Wall Street so that consumer spending can return to normal during the ongoing COVID19-outbreak?

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Shirley Jackson's classic dystopian short story "The Lottery" ― often assigned in English classes, invoked when current events take a dark turn, and omnipresent in paeans to great short fiction ― holds a special place in the hearts of many readers. None more so, as it happens, than Miles Hyman, an illustrator and graphic novelist who also happens to be Jackson's grandson.

In a brand-new graphic adaptation of "The Lottery," Hyman translates his grandmother's famously spare, unyielding prose into an implacably ominous visual journey through one day in a small town with a dark secret.

The unbearable suspense of the original short story derives from Jackson's slow, detailed unspooling of the day's events, all building toward the yearly lottery, juxtaposed with her coyness about what the lottery is or means ― even as unmistakable tension mounts amongst the townspeople. In his graphic adaptation ― which Hyman spent decades mulling over before attempting ― it's a progression of scenes drawn from the book that lay the eerie groundwork. Without including much of the original text, or giving the whole game away, he depicts an ordinary little town that seems just slightly off-kilter, up until it becomes clear just how twisted the situation is.

In an email conversation, Hyman opened up to HuffPost about his approach to adapting "The Lottery," his grandmother's influence, and why the story remains so resonant. We've also excerpted several pages from the graphic adaptation to give just a glimpse into the creepy world Jackson created, and her grandson has reimagined:
What made you realize that you could adapt "The Lottery" as a graphic novel, despite being hesitant to do so in the past?
It took me awhile because I knew it would be an important book for me and, in short, I really wanted to get it right. On one hand "The Lottery" is considered a masterpiece of short fiction and is widely read, a respected part of our American literary heritage. On the other it has tremendous importance ― like all of my grandmother's writing ― to members of my family. (You wouldn't exactly call it a "family heirloom," but you see what I mean.)

So I was careful to set things in motion only when I felt that the graphic novel could really do something original and innovative with the story ― invite a new reading of this classic tale that has riveted but also inspired so many readers for generations. The folks at Farrar, Straus & Giroux (Hill and Wang) were excited about a graphic adaptation of the "The Lottery," and their enthusiasm was a definite "plus" since I had worked with them in the past and knew the high quality of the books they produce. Their support was absolutely essential.

Part of what took a while to work out was what form the adaptation should take. I had felt for years that a more traditionally illustrated version would be an effective way to adapt the story, but something about that direction felt too static.

Then came the chance for me to work on a series of graphic novel adaptations, working with great texts such as Jim Thompson's "Savage Night" and especially James Ellroy's "The Black Dahlia." I realized that this approach ― a graphic novelization ― would be an exciting direction for "The Lottery," a format that would best allow me to convey the electric tension of the original story in a new way. My feeling was that if the adapted story was to develop the same seamless crescendo of intensity that the original does, it would be important to make the reader feel like they were right there in the crowd ― as if they were participating in the ritual themselves. A graphic novelization allows for that degree of proximity that illustration sometimes doesn't.
What approach did you take to make use of the visual element to provide new insight to the story?
"The Lottery" is one of the most carefully constructed stories I've ever come across, so I knew that my drawings had to carefully respect the basic mechanics of the original text while rebuilding it as a graphic tale. This was no small task. In the original story much of the information shared with the reader about the ritual practice of the lottery itself is communicated with the help an omniscient narrator. However with graphic fiction you generally want to avoid over-using blocks of narrative text if at all possible. Action and dialogue tend to be much more effective storytelling tools when adapting a text in graphic form.

So I made the decision to "tease out" the opening scenes of the graphic novel with a series of nearly text-less sequences, based on small snippets of the original story. It's in these scenes that we get the bulk of our key information ― the essential visual landmarks that are going to help us navigate the action going forward.

For instance, the opening scene of the graphic novel introduces us to Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves, who meet in the dead of night to prepare the ceremony in the store-room of Mr. Summers' coal store. This new scene is actually inspired by a simple sentence of the original story that struck me as having a potentially strong visual impact, but which also lays the groundwork for what's to come by allowing the reader of the graphic novel "sit in" on this late-night encounter, in a sense.

As a result we have important visual elements in mind from the get-go: We meet two of the key characters and see them preparing the black box that has been sitting on a dusty storeroom shelf for the last 364 days. We're able to observe the folding of these curious pieces of paper that are going to be so important moving forward. And above all, we watch the men marking one of those pieces of paper with a mysterious black dot. The theatrical principle known as "Chekhov's Gun" comes to mind. We're left with a gut feeling that this strange marked paper, visible for an instant and then hidden away in the black box in the first scene of the graphic adaptation, will inevitably have some sinister impact on the story as events unfold. And, of course, it does.

Beyond developing a familiar setting for the decor and characters in the earliest passages of the graphic novel, the main challenge in adapting "The Lottery" revolved around creating the right choreography for the lengthly, increasingly vivid exchange between the various villagers as the ritual draws to its terrifying conclusion. That's where my fondness for unusual angles, composition and lighting came into play!

I have to admit that I very much enjoyed making that scene work as a graphic experience for the reader. As a "spectator," we're constantly moving in and out of the crowd, alternating close-ups on facial expressions with wide-angle views of the village and its inhabitants grouped together in the square, as if we were simultaneously a participant in the event and a neutral observer. Working with this part of the story was a challenge but also great fun to do. It feels like the adaptation does something I'm particularly proud of. By creating "The Lottery" as a visual experience, we're able to see aspects of the story from a new and sometimes unexpected point of view, giving the reader a new take on a story so many of us thought we knew by heart.
How did you adapt your artistic style to fit the literary style of "The Lottery"?
When readers of The New Yorker discovered the story in June 1948, many of them believed they were not reading fiction at all but an eyewitness account of something Shirley Jackson had just experienced a few days earlier.

In her essay "Biography of a Story," my grandmother spoke about how surprised she was by the letters she received, asking for (and sometimes demanding ) details about the ceremony. Many curious readers actually wanted to come watch the following year's lottery in person! I think that the simple, meticulous quality of her writing explains part of the shock readers feel when they first experience the story, and I felt like the drawings ― while not hyper-realistic in style ― needed to be realistic enough that we might feel they were inspired by observed events.

So while I've sometimes used a more stylized sort of drawing in my previous graphic novels, in the case of my adaptation of "The Lottery" I was careful to stay as close as possible to a style of drawing that looks generally more realistic than other books of mine.
What influence, if any, has your grandmother's work had on you as an artist?
With time, I've come to notice quite a few parallels between my grandmother's work and my own. I do all sorts of illustration, for a wide variety of publishers, but perhaps what I like best tends to be that intense interplay of light and shadows that has come to typify so much of my work. As a result, publishers tend to associate my work with certain genres ― detective novels, horror stories, etc. This being said, like Shirley Jackson's work, there is also a contrasting lighter side to my work that is equally important ― children's books, editorial pieces.

I admire my grandmother's ability, even in her most terrifying novels, to include elements of dark comedy. I think we share a common taste for this paradoxical blending of humor and horror. Whether it's an artistic influence or just a family trait is up for debate, but I certainly recognize a common artistic taste for these qualities that would generally seem mutually exclusive.
This graphic adaptation of "The Lottery" will be publishing less than a month before a very controversial presidential election in the U.S. Do you think the book has any useful lessons for voters or citizens today, in particular?
Hmm ... I wouldn't want to draw any direct parallels between a short story written in 1948 and our current political environment. Any analogies would obviously be imperfect at best and the last thing I'd want to do would be to bend the story's meaning to address current events. As my grandmother might have said, "The Lottery" is just a story.

This being said, the story in question has clear allegorical qualities that make its meaning timeless. Part of the tale's impact comes from its ability to speak to something broader and deeper than the fictional events it describes. Those elements are what has made the story so unsettling to people over the years. I guess "The Lottery" speaks to something latent in all of us, whether or not we choose to face it.

Jackson explores our proclivity to bow to rote tradition and ritual out of fear ― or, worse still, out of complacency, perpetuating conventions that are not only archaic but downright inhuman simply because we lack the courage to change them.

Something tells me my grandmother had many things on her mind when she wrote this dark tale in 1948: the country was still traumatized from an apocalyptic World War, coming to terms with the unimaginable horror of the Holocaust. Jim Crow-era legislation continued to segregate citizens based on the color of their skin, while "red scare" policies began persecuting some Americans based on their political convictions. Economic gains brought prosperity to much of the nation but fear, entrenched hatred and archaic conventions determined much of the rigid social and political boundaries that dominated our country during these conservative post-war years. It doesn't sound like anything we'd want to go back to.

My grandmother always turned down her readers' requests to explain the meaning of "The Lottery." Evoking her refusal to do so in his introduction to the posthumous omnibus The Magic of Shirley Jackson my grandfather, literary critic Stanley Edgar Hyman, recalled her pride upon learning that the Apartheid-era Union of South Africa had banned "The Lottery." According to my grandfather she allowed herself a rare enigmatic quip in reaction to the news: "At least they understand the story," she said.

At work in my studio over the last year, listening to a steady stream of radio news as the graphic adaptation of "The Lottery" took shape on my drawing table, I couldn't help but be struck by how pertinent this short story continues to be today, nearly 70 years after its original publication. Never in my lifetime have we seen a political environment so laced with those old toxic emotions: fear and hatred. Seen through the eyes of my grandmother's classic tale, some of what has been said during this election cycle has, if anything, taken Old Mr. Warner's irate rants to a whole new level of shrill demagoguery.

You could argue that "The Lottery" has only one hero: the reader. The story's ultimate goal is perhaps to "shock us awake," so that we might be moved to act differently the next time we're confronted with stale ideas that perpetuate senseless cruelty, bigotry or injustice. If anything positive should come from the harrowing spectacle of watching our political discourse degenerate into reality TV, perhaps the current election cycle ― like the reading of my grandmother's dystopic tale of horror ― might just shock us awake as a nation, encouraging us to move together beyond this dark and ugly place we seem to be in.

But, again: "The Lottery" is just a story.
This interview has been edited.
Pages from Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery": The Authorized Graphic Adaptation by Miles Hyman, published by Hill and Wang, a division of Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Copyright © 2016 by Miles Hyman. All rights reserved.

BEFORE YOU GO

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This Shocking Short Story From 1948 Has Never Felt More Necessary

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Shirley Jackson's classic dystopian short story "The Lottery" ― often assigned in English classes, invoked when current events take a dark turn, and omnipresent in paeans to great short fiction ― holds a special place in the hearts of many readers.

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PDF Article about the comparisons of the political corruption and human rights in "The Lottery"

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The demonstrations and riots of 2020, divisiveness, and the possibility of violence related to tonight's election connects to this quote in the article linked below:

"the townspeople raise their stones and charge Tessie. Those who speak of tractors and taxes, given the right conditions and stoked by the right flame, can do worse."

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A flame can become a conflagration in a few moments. After a protester disrupted his campaign rally in Las Vegas, Donald Trump said "I'd like to punch him in the face." Two weeks later, a 78 year-old Trump supporter did just that, socking a protester who was escorted out of the building by police. Nobody was surprised.

The season is new, but the performance is old. Comparisons have been made to George Wallace and Oswald Mosley, and even more infamous predecessors. Trump is a unique incarnation, a trickster underappreciated by his political enemies. His recursive speaking style allows him to hold opposing positions, often within the same sentences. It would be humorous to diagram one of his sentences, to map the illogic of one of his speeches, but before one's hand would begin to cramp, there would be an epiphany: this is exactly what he wants. Distract and divide.

The music, the steaks, the wine, the water, the heavy breathing while he listens to questions from reporters: Trump takes himself so seriously that he makes us not take him seriously at all. Or more accurately, those who support Trump take him more seriously than any aspiring politician in their lifetime-while those who fear his ascendancy mistake his foolishness for weakness. Few have been better at convincing angry people that their anger is justified.

First came a threat, then came a sucker punch. Then came taunts, slurs, and violence that should scare us all. The next evolution of the violence stirred by Trump's rhetoric is not riots; we have almost seen that in Chicago. We have almost seen that in Fayetteville and St. Louis. We will see similar unrest again. I fear more violence at Trump rallies, but what I fear even more is what that violence does to the hearts and minds watching the videos. How such violence might seem not merely normal, but endemic to an insurgent candidacy. How such violence might seem absolutely, purely American.

In some twist of fate, the story that best explains my fear of what Trump will bring was published in the magazine of his hometown, The New Yorker. Shirley 1948 story "The Lottery" has been taught, anthologized, and dramatized so many times that it is often more spoken of in paraphrase than considered as an actual text. It has become a punchline perhaps, rather than a punch.

The story is set at the end of June. In our future, that means between the final Republican primary and the July convention. Let's imagine that America, one where Trump fails to win 1,237 delegates, resulting in a contested Republican convention.

There will be clear, sunny summer days. People will come together "between the post office and the bank." There will be children among them, their "pockets full of stones." The parents will leave theirs piled in a corner, and instead speak of "planting and rain, tractors and taxes." The lottery will happen with the same ritualized habit as "square dances, the teen club, the Halloween program." It will happen because we think it is supposed to happen; it will happen, probably, because we have forgotten how to think.

Jackson's story is methodical, slow. How many high school students have squirmed in their seats in boredom while their teachers, strangely excited to teach this seemingly rote story, read past each sentence as they careen toward the finish? What is the point of all this talk of three-legged stools and lottery boxes and guidelines and traditions? I think the point is that hell can become habit. Evil can hide as an expectation.

The "round-faced, jovial" Mr. Summers runs the lottery. He clears his throat and looks at a list, asking, "All ready?" Nobody answers; they are ready. After a few tense pages of names, Tessie Hutchinson is discovered to hold the slip of paper with the black spot. She is the chosen one to die.

The detail that always gets me is how Mr. Summers made the black spot that would choose the unlucky person: "with the heavy pencil in the coal company office." It was done with the same directness that leads him to say "All right, folks. Let's finish quickly," as the townspeople raise their stones and charge Tessie. Those who speak of tractors and taxes, given the right conditions and stoked by the right flame, can do worse.

Jackson's story reminds me of Neighbours, the 1952 short film by Norman McLaren, in which placid neighbors devolve into demonic combatants, all over a property line. Our American political system has always been strange, yet it usually has been held together, even if by a thread. Metaphor and satire about politics work as long as that thread exists, but once that thread is cut, metaphor and satire feel like actions of ignorance and fear.

History has taught us there is a fine line between hyperbole and horror. The lessons of fiction are, unfortunately, often learned after it is much too late. Maybe "The Lottery" belongs tucked in an outdated high school anthology, to be used for a few short responses and then forgotten. Maybe it is a trite, quaint tale, the stuff of The Twilight Zone. Maybe. We shall see.

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Donald Trump, As Told By Shirley Jackson

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A flame can become a conflagration in a few moments. After a protester disrupted his campaign rally in Las Vegas, Donald Trump said "I'd like to punch him in the face." Two weeks later, a 78 year-old Trump supporter did just that, socking a protester who was escorted out of the building by police.

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Shirley Jackson's The Lottery and Parallels to Modern Society

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Richard Lindgren: Governor Kim Reynolds lost a good two months of time pretending that her state was immune from the virus when she could have been turning over rocks testing for emerging hot spots. -promoted by Laura Belin
I do not live in Iowa anymore, although I did spend a lot of my years in a very rural part of the state. I still have grandchildren in Iowa and I can't help but watch with horror the slow-rolling disaster that is the "economic re-opening" of the state by Governor Kim Reynolds. It has brought from the deep recesses of my mind a classic short story written by Shirley Jackson, and I have realized that we are living this tale in real-time.

"The Lottery" was first published in 1948. During my youth, this work became a part of every American Literature curriculum. I confess that I neither understood the story nor grasped its importance until now.

Jackson's fable confused me as a teen because the story seemed so implausible. This idyllic small town conducts a lottery every year to pick one citizen at random. Then the entire town population, from the little children on up, begins to stone to death the unfortunate "lottery winner." With that gruesome act the story abruptly ends: "And then they were upon her."

Our English teachers tried to explain the concept of the scapegoat to us, as well as the immorality of mindless conformity, but I remember that whole scenario as seeming just too silly to be taken seriously.
Taking the probabilities seriously
I have been writing a lot recently about the trend lines and probabilities that characterize this novel coronavirus and the resultant tragic deaths from the new disease called COVID-19. The exponential spread of this virus has at times seemed to have a power of its own. However, there is a huge difference between trying to quickly uncover "God's coronavirus lottery picks" so that we can best direct our life-saving efforts versus what we are effectively doing in the re-opening plans of several "Red States." [1]

In these states, the Republican establishment has apparently decided that a growing number of not-so-random deaths is quite acceptable, because the nation's meat supply must be maintained at (quite literally) all costs. We even know who these virus victims are probabilistically most likely to be in Iowa. They work in your county's meatpacking plants and they live in your community's nursing homes.

Iowa's governor literally said about these loosened restrictions, "Isn't it a wonderful thing? Isn't this great?" She has in effect said here, "Get out the stones." Reynolds has moved this from a tragedy of the uncontrollable to the immorality of intentional harm.
The unreachable plan
In mid-April, the Trump administration released guidelines for economic re-openings based primarily on statistical success in addressing the COVID-19 numbers:

The guidelines recommend that states document a "downward trajectory" in cases of coronavirus and flu-like illnesses for two weeks before beginning a three-phase process to return to near normal work and social life. States should document another two weeks of declining cases before proceeding from one phase to another, the guidelines say, while a "rebound" in case numbers could mean reimposing some or all restrictions.

However, as I had written at Bleeding Heartland just days before that announcement, this plan would likely never work in states like Iowa or South Dakota that didn't have a New York-like flood of cases to begin with. The math of coronavirus in these mostly rural states has looked more like the cruel randomness of the "active shooter," with the virus finding targets in the grouped pockets of vulnerable people like immigrant slaughterhouse workers and nursing home residents.

The numbers of COVID-19 deaths in Iowa, both in absolute numbers and daily growth percentages, continue to rise rather than fall. [2] And because the state is mostly still testing known hot spots only, it is "looking for the lost keys only where the light shines the brightest."

Those federal guidelines remain a long way from working in Iowa; even the Trump administration seems to be pretending that they were never issued. Since she could not meet the federal guidelines, Governor Reynolds has apparently decided that there are "magic wall" boundaries between her counties, and so she has opened 77 of the 99 counties (colored gray on this map) for business.

Reynolds recently signed a $26 million no-bid contract with a controversial and inexperienced Utah company to expand testing in the state. I have advocated that the state also needs to be aggressively shining a very bright testing light "where the symptoms ain't" in order find the asymptomatic cases in the counties, health facilities and workplaces that officially report few cases right now. Because, I maintain, they do not have few cases. They are "the bullets that you don't hear," to use another analogy.

The governor lost a good two months of time pretending that her state was immune from the virus when she could have been turning over rocks testing for emerging hot spots.
Bad policy is also a spreading virus
My new home state of Florida is not doing any better. Until this week you still needed to go through many hoops in my county just to get tested. This usually included a doctor's prescription, which you could not obtain without symptoms. Still, Governor Ron DeSantis, has pulled out the old (bad) joke about Florida being "God's waiting room" to excuse the high number of deaths (1,268 to date), especially in elder-care facilities.

DeSantis even directed his state's health department to exclude from the death count the "snowbirds," those winter-only Florida residents (including many Iowans) who die while in the state. My spouse and I were snowbirds for about eight years before persistent problems with Iowa's intentionally kneecapped ACA health insurance exchange expedited our full-time move, in order to solidify our health insurance coverage. Our family remains in the "very high risk" category with this virus.

There are ways to move back away from a jaded acceptance of virus death to active engagement. Workplaces, especially the meatpacking plants, must vigorously fight the spread of this virus. Reports indicate that the government is making only voluntary requests for improving worker safety in the meatpacking plants. Instead, we should mandate paid leave in order to keep the economically desperate employees from showing up to work while sick. We should require the state to pay lodging costs for sick workers to isolate them from their families in order to stop the spread. And of course, we need contact tracing and testing, testing, testing.

Morality is a collective societal attitude. Do we accept many more deaths, knowing probabilistically where they will be, or do we fight it? When you are losing billions of dollars of economic activity, then it is surely worth millions of dollars of testing and tracing efforts to actively root out this virus in every corner of the state before it takes many more lives.
Richard Lindgren is Emeritus Professor of Business at Graceland University in Lamoni, Iowa, now retired in Gulf Coast Florida. He blogs at godplaysdice.com. Notes

1. It is important to recognize that some Republican-led states have been very tied to the math and the science from the outset in their response to COVID-19. I spent almost 20 years as an Ohio resident and rarely agreed with Mike DeWine, but as governor he has taken a very brave, science-based stand in protecting his state. He is to be commended. Republican Governor Larry Hogan of Maryland is another math-literate Republican doing an admirable, and often very creative, job in delivering key resources and life-saving policies to his state.

2. I use a seven-day average of the effective daily growth rate to smooth out the daily variances in state-reported cases and deaths. The Excel function for a seven-day exponential trend is RATE(7, 0, -day1count, day8count,,0.1).

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Living Shirley Jackson's story 'The Lottery' in real time - Bleeding Heartland

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Richard Lindgren: Governor Kim Reynolds lost a good two months of time pretending that her state was immune from the virus when she could have been turning over rocks testing for emerging hot spots. -promoted by Laura Belin I do not live in Iowa anymore, although I did spend a lot of my years in a very rural part of the state.

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Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" is Painfully Relevant Today

With so many Americans tuning in and cringing at the deluge of election controversies, we can take a little comfort that there are incredibly apt pieces of fiction to turn to for some perspective. At the Huffington Post, Claire Fallon looks at the renewed fame and interest in Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" during these troubled times, and shares snippets of a new graphic-novel adaptation.

Victor Luo is a graduate of UC Davis's MA in Creative Writing program specializing in fiction. He lives in Los Angeles where he loves never having to be cold. More from this author →

Tags: Claire Fallon, graphic novel, huffington post, Shirley Jackson, The Lottery

Filed Under: Other
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Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" is Painfully Relevant Today

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Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" is Painfully Relevant Today With so many Americans tuning in and cringing at the deluge of election controversies, we can take a little comfort that there are incredibly apt pieces of fiction to turn to for some perspective.

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https://nerdist.com/article/shirley-jackson-the-lottery-folk-horror/
Culturally acceptable violence in America

https://www.teenink.com/nonfiction/academic/article/390325/The-Lottery-by-Shirley-Jackson-
Positions of power being abused and having consequences that affect others

https://gradesfixer.com/free-essay-examples/a-study-of-the-theme-and-plot-in-shirley-jacksons-short-story-the-lottery/
Student's thoughts on equality

http://midnightsocietytales.com/2020/06/27/its-june-27th-read-shirley-jacksons-the-lottery/
Short, touches on the acceptance of something that isn't quite understood

https://www.scapegoatrecovery.com/2020/09/01/__lottery-scapegoat/
Makes a point regarding the virus and how it's being handled

https://www.grin.com/document/284451
This one hints at the cultural and political nuances implied by Jackson's semantics

https://www.thoughtco.com/analysis-the-lottery-by-shirley-jackson-2990472
A more in depth, but rather unbiased and objective analysis of the semantics

https://www.enotes.com/homework-help/what-is-the-moral-lesson-of-the-story-the-lottery-14907
Short notes on the moral culpability of the characters and the "moral of the story"

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MORE THAN FIFTY YEARS AFTER her death, Shirley Jackson has risen again.

The writer first shot to prominence in 1948 when her chilling short story "The Lottery" was published by The New Yorker, generating the most mail the magazine had ever received in response to a work of fiction; she went on to terrify readers in the American Gothic tradition of Hawthorne and Poe with over 200 short stories and six novels. Yet, for reasons both mysterious and typical, her work fell out of favor and was largely out of print just 10 years ago. The past few years, however, has seen a reviving interest in her work: several of her short story collections were reissued, including Dark Tales with a foreword by Ottessa Moshfegh, whose own work owes a lot to Jackson; Ruth Franklin's biography Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life won the National Book Critics Circle Award; and, most recently, Netflix based its series The Haunting of Hill House on Jackson's beloved ghost story of the same name. Jackson, who was described on the jacket copy of her novel The Road Through the Wall, as "perhaps the only contemporary writer who is a practicing amateur witch," would no doubt have delighted in the posthumous comeback. Maybe we can consider it a literary haunting. If so, Jackson's ghost has impeccable timing.

We are in a moment of deep political divisiveness, characterized by fear, and a nagging mistrust of institutions. An annual study conducted by Chapman University found that Americans biggest fear in 2018 was corruption of governmental officials, beating out a terrorist attack or even the death of a loved one. Between shady-seeming politicians, and the exaggerated online personas crafted on social media, there is a pervasive sense that people are not who they seem to be. After the 2016 presidential elections, many people woke to the disquieting realization that the country they lived in was not what they thought it was; the realization was not gradual, but spookily disorienting, as if it had been possessed by body-snatching aliens overnight. Totems of American wholesomeness have taken on sinister new meaning - neo-Nazis have swapped skinhead attire for all-American khakis and white polos. Upstanding men, many of them, like Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh, projecting an image of the ideal family man, were accused of sexual misconduct and rape. In October, The New York Times reported that white supremacists co-opted milk as a sign of genetic superiority, apparently predicated on the ability to easily digest dairy. According to the paper, one supremacist wrote in a racist Facebook post, "If you can't drink milk, you have to go back."

As fans of her work will know, this is pure Jackson territory - her work is characterized by the incipient horror that lurks in everyday American life. In "The Lottery," the people of an unnamed village gather in the town square on a fine summer day in what first appears to be an idyllic portrait of small-town America ... until the ritualistic stoning begins. In "What a Thought," a bored housewife looks over at her adoring husband after dinner and is struck with the urge to murder him. In "The Beautiful Stranger," a man returns from a business trip, unable to convince his wife he is really her husband. In "The Possibility of Evil," Miss Strangeworth, a pleasant 71-year-old woman, beloved as the town matriarch, is revealed to have a habit of sending anonymous, incredibly hateful notes to various townspeople. She does it not out of malice but because "as long as evil existed unchecked in the world, it was Miss Strangeworth's duty to keep her town alert to it." Here, Jackson is particularly prescient: what Miss Strangeworth does with a stub of a pencil and sheets of colored paper, is what hundreds of thousands of perfectly nice people do on the internet today. We even have a supernatural nickname for them: trolls.

There is an old parable about a frog being boiled to death. It holds that a frog put in boiling water will jump out immediately. But a frog placed in water that is gradually heated won't notice the change until he's boiled alive. That's what reading Jackson is like - the reader, like many of her characters, isn't fully aware of the evil until it subsumes them, and then it is too late.

Hill House, the cursed Victorian mansion in The Haunting of Hill House, is immediately distasteful to the novel's four main characters, who have moved into the house on an ill-fated research mission. But it isn't until several days later that the root of the house's wrongness is revealed - every angle in the house is a fraction of a degree off, giving its inhabitants a feeling of disorientation that is all the more unsettling because its cause is so hard to trace. Perhaps that's why, once the initial ill impression wears off, the researchers find themselves quite comfortable at Hill House: "Odd," thought Eleanor, the novel's protagonist, "that the house should be so dreadful and yet in many respects so physically comfortable - the soft bed, the pleasant lawn, the good fire, the cooking of Mrs. Dudley." Actually, that comfort is part of the house's evil, a warm embrace that first placates and then suffocates its victims. Like the poor frog, Eleanor doesn't realize the house's hold on her until she's already cooked.

Depending on the critic, Hill House has been said to symbolize everything from sexuality, the psyche, family, and the female body. Likely it's some amalgamation of all these. Houses held a dual significance in Jackson's own life. While she is best remembered for her ghost stories and thrillers, Jackson also penned humorous slice-of-life essays for women's magazines that detailed her life as a dutiful housewife, raising four children in the suburbs. Jackson bore the brunt of childrearing and household chores, while her husband, literary critic Stanley Hyman, was a hands-off father, often embroiled in an affair with one of his students from Bennington College. In Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life, biographer Ruth Franklin reveals how life in the home both stifled and inspired Jackson. "Jackson could not come into her own as a writer before she had children," writes Franklin. "She would not have been the writer she became without them." Later in her life, Jackson, increasingly unstable, alcoholic, obese, and addicted to amphetamines, would choose to spend most of her time in the family home, rarely leaving it but for the obligatory outing. She died there, at the age of 48, from an apparent heart attack in her sleep.

Whatever it meant to Jackson, Hill House's menacingly seductive comfort is one that strikes a chord today. Modern life is safer and more convenient than ever. We have a dizzying array of gadgets that make our lives easier (and eliminate or ameliorate many of the household chores that would have occupied Jackson) and health care has progressed to the point that life expectancy has increased nearly a decade in just 50 years. Yet many of us are plagued with the sense that all is not well. Anxiety is at an all-time high, and the boom of the wellness industry testifies to the pervasive fear that our environment is trying to kill us: our air is poisoned, our bread is toxic, and our doctors are lying to us. Still, few of us choose to give up the modern comforts that have so ensnared us. In The Haunting of Hill House, the house is first introduced to us as "not sane." We too can become comfortable in a house "not sane," hypnotized by our phones and TVs, slaves to convenience, increasingly lonely and unhappy.

When Tessie Hutchinson, the loser of the draw in "The Lottery," is ultimately stoned to death, it's horrifying. But what really chills the reader is how easily her fate, and the entire tradition of the lottery, is accepted by the crowd. Old Man Warner, the village elder, scoffs at word that a neighboring village is talking of ending the tradition of the Lottery:

"Pack of crazy fools," he says. "Listening to the young folks, nothing's good enough for them. Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to go back to living in caves, nobody work any more, live that way for a while. Used to be a saying about 'Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon.' First thing you know, we'd all be eating stewed chickweed and acorns. There's always been a lottery."

And he goes on for some time. It's the kind of rhetoric many of us will recognize in today's political discourse: if we let same-sex couples marry, next thing you know people will start marrying their animals! If we legalize cannabis, soon it'll be heroin! If we let the immigrants in, the country will fall apart! Recently, the writer Lincoln Michel spoofed Jackson's seminal work to make exactly that point, in his brilliant piece for titled, "Stoning Our Neighbors to Death Makes the Corn Grow High, and Elitist Liberals Should Stop Attacking this Traditional Value."

But Old Man Warner is not the only one guilty of perpetuating a brutal and inhuman practice. Each of the villagers is complicit, Mrs. Hutchinson included. "Be a good sport, Tessie," says one of the other housewives. "All of us took the same chance." It's easy to imagine that if Tessie wasn't chosen, she would have been throwing stones with the rest of the crowd. As the sacrificial victim, however, the tradition of the lottery looks very different to Mrs. Hutchinson. The short story ends with the following lines: "'It isn't fair, it isn't right,' Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her."

What's amazing is how quickly each of the villagers forgets how it was only a stroke of random luck that saved them from sharing Mrs. Hutchinson's fate. This is what we can learn from Jackson. In her work, the real evil isn't violence or supernatural hauntings. It's complacency. Jackson reminds us that, in real life, we don't have to wait until we've drawn the bad lot to recognize the injustices around us.

¤
Hayley Phelan writes about culture, style, travel, food, and the internet for The New York Times, New York Magazine, The Wall Street Journal, Elle, Conde Nast Traveler, Business of Fashion, and The Cut. She also has a column in the New York Times Thursday Styles Section.

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Shirley Jackson, Trump, and the Evil of Complacency - Los Angeles Review of Books

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MORE THAN FIFTY YEARS AFTER her death, Shirley Jackson has risen again. The writer first shot to prominence in 1948 when her chilling short story "The Lottery" was published by The New Yorker, generating the most mail the magazine had ever received in response to a work of fiction; she went on to terrify readers in the American Gothic tradition of Hawthorne and Poe with over 200 short stories and six novels.

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The lottery represents a societal movement or an idea passed down from generation to generation. The lottery has been going on since the villages origin. This fact alone draws many parallels to the United States. Since our countries origins we have voted on our leaders in cycles without question.

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A summary of Symbols in Shirley Jackson's The Lottery. Learn exactly what happened in this chapter, scene, or section of The Lottery and what it means. Perfect for acing essays, tests, and quizzes, as well as for writing lesson plans.

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If you haven't read "The Lottery" lately, there's never been a better time-especially if you, like me, enjoy feeling like you're hearing your favorite dead writers weigh in on world events. Tomorrow is also the day the story's titular lottery takes place each year, in case you need an extra nudge.

Smarter writers than I have drawn parallels between the story ("just a fable," according to The New Yorker's Kip Orr, tasked with responding to the many letters the story elicited) and the systematic cruelty of contemporary America. So let me just add: The villagers in the story-with the possible exception of lottery administrator Mr. Summers, who is at least open to the possibility of a new wooden lottery box-would not be down with the removal of public symbols of white supremacy.

With the character of Old Man Warner (the oldest man in town), Jackson anticipated with eerie precision, like, 50% of the people who comment on any Lit Hub Facebook post that suggests this country might want cool it on venerating known racists.

"Listening to the young folks, nothing's good enough for them. Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to go back to living in caves, nobody work any more, live that way for a while," Old Man Warner says to the suggestion that some villages have done away with the lottery.

Listen, I'm not saying that the people who see the removal of Confederate statues as a grave social injustice would be totally cool with stoning one of their neighbors to death every year for the sake of tradition, but... okay, I am absolutely saying that.

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The villagers from Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" are very concerned about this statue situation.

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If you haven't read "The Lottery" lately, there's never been a better time-especially if you, like me, enjoy feeling like you're hearing your favorite dead writers weigh in on world events. Tomorrow is also the day the story's titular lottery takes place each year, in case you need an extra nudge.

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I saw this and was immediately convinced that tonight is the stuff of a dystopian novel.

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So it's come to this: Discourse Blog is having our very own Election Night Fun Party Time Death March Extravaganza, and you can be a part of it.

That's right! We're going to be live on our Twitch stream and chatting in our Discord server starting at 7 p.m. ET on Election Night. (That's Tuesday, November 3, in case you'd forgotten.)

We're going to be "on air" until, well, who knows! You might have heard that the election is going to be a little wild this year. We're just going to ride it out until our eyes are bleeding too much and our brains have turned to mush and we can't do it anymore.

What we do know is that all of your Discourse Blog faves will be there, and we're going to have some very special guests joining us, and we'll bring you the news and all the updates you need about, y'know, who is winning and all that, and it'll be like watching CNN except absolutely nothing like watching CNN because unlike CNN we are good, and we won't have Trump people on, or Wolf Blitzer. And we promise you it will be fun. Unless uhhh well actually we won't even type that into possible existence! Really, we promise that hanging with us will make whatever happens more bearable.

You can also hang out in our Discord server with the rest of our community there. Remember: the Discord chat is reserved exclusively for our Capitalist tier members. It's really great in there! They have multiple guillotine emojis! If you would like access, you can subscribe here.

So join us as we get steadily kicked in the head by the pageant of American democracy for many hours in a row! It's gonna be....an experience. Don't suffer through it alone.
The time: 7 p.m. ET on Tuesday, November 3 (there's an election that day)
The places: twitch.tv/discourseblog and our Discord server

The participants: Discourse Blog plus special guests (ooooooooh so special) plus YOU
The goal: get through this together

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Get Through Election Night With Us - Discourse Blog

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So it's come to this: Discourse Blog is having our very own Election Night Fun Party Time Death March Extravaganza, and you can be a part of it. That's right! We're going to be live on our Twitch stream and chatting in our Discord server starting at 7 p.m.

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Standing in line to vote today, I was amazed at the strangeness of this whole year and especially this election. Wrapped around the community center, the line of voters snaked along silently until the lady behind me tapped me on my shoulder.  "Long line, eh?" I popped out my ear buds and gave a friendly nod. "As long as everyone here is voting for the right one..." she added. "Fiend!" I shrieked. Okay, not really. But what an attempted entry into another dimension I suddenly felt plunged! The dystopian possibilities! Margaret Atwood I'm looking at you! So here we are. Election Night 2020. Instead of watching a live stream, like we did with the Poetry of Protest broadcast, we are going to collaborate together and launch our final major class event: the research paper. We will be using Shirley Jackson's election story, "The Lottery" as the nucleus around which we will argue that her 70 year old story is curiously, strangely, wickedly relevant.