The Yellow Wallpaper

Oh, dear. What a creepy story.
(Wait, I'm using the phrase "oh dear." This is what you pick up when you have too many classes with Will T.)

There is good creepy and bad creepy. This is bad creepy. I don't even approve it creepy, because the word "creepy" is used so many times in the story. I am serious. A true creepy story mustn't have the word "creepy" in it, just like a scary story can't have the word "scary" in it. I guess I think this way because, as a teenager of a particular background, I had access to a lot of gothic/horror/whatever literature (you get it when you live right beside Japan). Wait, really? Didn't Edgar Allan Poe die before Charlotte Perkins Gilman was even born? I take it back. By the way, I love how I can refer to writers by their full names. I like calling people by their full names.

I didn't like the way the writer had to separate every sentence into paragraphs. It bugged me so much that─I admit─I couldn't pick up much of the first quarter or so.

I also don't understand what this has to do with what we've been studying this trimester which is Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe (an awesome book, by the way) and "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" by Gabriel Garcia-Marquez. Allegory? "The Yellow Wallpaper" is more like an explicit reference to Charlotte Perkins Gilman's personal experience of confinement. Moreover, now that I've finished it, it's very funny that Friday in class, I said "paranoid" when the teacher asked what the protagonist sounds like in the first few sentences. Oh yes, she is paranoid.


Addition upon Monday:
In class.
Me: Why are we doing this? What's the link?
Teacher: None. What do you think it is?
Me: I don't know. That's why I'm asking you.
Teacher: Y'all don't have the book. We need something to do until y'all get the book.
Me: Yay.