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Summary and Analysis of Part 1

Part One: Summary

The anonymous female narrator and her physician husband, John, have rented out a colonial mansion for the summer in which she can recuperate from her sickness. However, on her first day she finds "something queer" about the house, and John, a practical man, does not believe she is sick, but only that she has a temporary nervous depression. She takes medicine, but is not allowed to work at all while she rests; she believes work would speed her recovery, though. She has been writing some, but it is exhausting having to do so in secrecy. She would like to have more company and stimulation, but John tells her not to think about her condition, as it will only aggravate her symptoms.

She discusses the house and its beautiful surroundings. The house is solitary, has hedges and walls and gates, smaller houses for gardeners and other workers, and a garden. Still, she feels there is something strange about the house, though John does not heed her. She finds herself getting angrier with John now, and he tells her to exercise self-control. She does not like the room she is in, but wanted one downstairs that was more open and nicely decorated. John felt this room was a more practical choice, as it can fit two beds.

John is very attentive to her and has outlined a detailed everyday schedule for her. Air is the most important thing for her, he feels, so they took the nursery room (as indicated by the bars on the windows for children). A big room, it has windows on all sides and allows plenty of sunshine. However, the wallpaper in the room - stripped off in two places - has a hideous, chaotic, yellow pattern. John enters the room and she puts away her journal, as he hates for her to write.

Analysis

In 1887, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, suffering for three years from neurasthenia - an emotional disorder characterized by fatigue and depression - went to see noted physician Silas Weir Mitchell. Mitchell prescribed the "rest cure" evident in the story. For the next three months, Gilman's rest drove her to the brink of insanity. She finally discarded his advice and resumed her work of writing. She soon felt better, and wrote "The Yellow Wallpaper," an exaggerated version of her story. Though Mitchell did not respond when she sent him a copy, she learned later that he had altered his treatment of neurasthenia after reading the story.

Gilman wrote the story not merely to change one man's view of neurasthenia, but to use the story as a symbol of the oppression of women in a paternalistic society. To begin with, we know the name of the narrator's husband (John), but not her own. She is nearly anonymous; her identity is John's wife. This power imbalance extends to other areas of their relationship. John dominates her, albeit in an ultimately patronizing manner. His strong, practical, and stereotypically masculine nature is skeptical of her seemingly weak, "feminine" disorder (as neurasthenia and other mental illnesses were often categorized), and he, not she, diagnoses her problem and prescribes the cure. When he tells her to exercise self-control over her irritation with him, the effect is ironic; he controls nearly everything about her, and even makes her feel ungrateful for not valuing his help enough.

The major function of John's control over her, as with Mitchell's control over Gilman, is his inhibiting her from writing. Though she feels writing would help her recover, as Gilman found, John believes it only saps her strength. He stifles her creativity and intellect and forces her into the domesticated position of a powerless wife. Her hiding her writing whenever John is around is similar to the way literary women in the 18th-century, and even the late 19th-century (when "The Yellow Wallpaper" was written), had to hide their work from their families; Jane Austen is famous for having written her novels while periodically stowing away the manuscripts in her family's living-room.

The narrator is imprisoned, unable to exercise dominion over her mind, and the structure of the house and its surroundings bears this out: "...there are hedges and walls and gates that lock, and lots of separate little houses for the gardeners and people...I never saw such a garden - large and shady, full of box-bordered paths..." Everything is separated and divided, boxed in, and locked like a prison, much as she is held captive in her room. In fact, the house itself seems designed for men; larger-than-life mansions are typically symbols of masculine aggression and competitiveness, while its being a "hereditary estate" reminds us it was probably passed down to men in the family.

Notably, the narrator wanted the more stereotypically feminine room, one that "opened on the piazza," with "roses all over the window, and such pretty old-fashioned chintz hangings!" Despite the airiness of her shared room with John, the barred windows symbolize her imprisonment. That the room may have been a former nursery is more important; she is forced into a helpless, infantile position with John as her caretaker.

In a motif that will assume more importance later in the story, she finds something strange on a "moonlit evening." Night is typically viewed in literature as an escape from the conscious order of the daytime; at night the subconscious runs wild with dreams. Moreover, the moon frequently symbolizes female intuition and sensitivity. Sunshine dominates the nursery during the day, much as John dominates the narrator during the day as he gives her "a schedule prescription for each hour in the day." Thus, sunshine is associated with ordered, masculine oppression, while the night seems to liberate the narrator in some form.

Sunshine is also equated with the yellow wallpaper, which is "faded by the slow-turning sunlight." The "sickly sulphur tint" of wallpaper is also associated with illness. Another possible equation is with minorities, especially Chinese (who were among the most heavily discriminated against minorities in late 19th-century America). The title of the story clearly indicates that the wallpaper will grow more important, and Gilman hints that the chaos of the wallpaper's pattern will have something to do with the story. For now, we can assume that the chaos has some association with the narrator's seemingly disordered mind. So far she is quite sane, but her narrative style of short sentences that move from topic to topic is similar to the wallpaper's pattern of curves that "plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard of contradictions." Note, too, that the wallpaper has been stripped off in two parts of the room; perhaps something will soon break free.

Summary and Analysis of Part 2

Part Two: Summary

It has been two weeks since the narrator and John have moved into the house, and she has not felt like writing since the first day. John is away during the day on cases, even at night sometimes, and he does not understand how much she suffers. Still, she believes it is merely nervousness, and she feels like a burden to John. She can hardly do anything on her own, and she is grateful that their nanny, Mary, is so good with their baby.

John laughs at her anxiety over the wallpaper and denies her request to repaper the room for their three-month stay; soon she will want to change everything else in the room, too (which she privately admits is true). To avoid looking at the wallpaper, she looks at the garden out of one window, and out of another at the bay, the estate's private wharf, and the shaded lane from the house. She thinks she sees people walking down the lane, but John tells her not to give in to these fanciful visions, as it will exacerbate her nervous condition. She still thinks writing would heal her, but gets tired when she tries. John will allow her company only when she gets well.

A recurrent pattern in the wallpaper looks like a broken neck and two upside-down eyes staring at her. The room is damaged from its previous status as a nursery, aside from the torn-off spots in the wallpaper. Through the window she sees John's sister, Jennie, a caring and perfect housekeeper approaching the house, and the narrator must make sure not to let her see her writing; Jennie probably thinks the writing has made her sick. The narrator thinks she sees a "strange" figure in the wallpaper's pattern. Jennie comes up the stairs and she puts away her writing.

Analysis

The narrator reveals her feelings of inadequacy over her wifely and maternal duties. Mary (likely an allusion to that most sacred and perfect of mothers, the Virgin Mary) has replaced her as the caretaker of the couple's baby, while Jennie is a model of the perfectly submissive and happily domesticated wife.

With the narrator's identities as wife and mother subverted, John acts more like a father to her than he does as a husband. He continues to infantilize her, calling her his "'blessed little goose.'" This paternalistic attitude extends to Jennie, who "hopes for no better profession" than being a housekeeper and who probably believes writing is the cause of the narrator's sickness. Jennie's bias against writing, however, is less forceful than John's is; he stifles the narrator's "imaginative power and habit of story-making" when she merely looks outside and thinks she sees people.

We see more evidence that the narrator's mind is growing more chaotic. The garden, with its "riotous old-fashioned flowers, and bushes and gnarly trees" seems to mirror her state of mind, which grows choppier in the writing.

She also feels watched over by the wallpaper, much as John and Jennie watch over her, adding to her sense of imprisoned surveillance. The sunlight motif pops up again when she claims she can see a figure in the wallpaper "where the sun is just so." What this figure means will become apparent later in the story.

Summary and Analysis of Part 3

Part Three: Summary

The narrator and John have just had relatives over for the 4th of July. Even though Jennie took care of everything, the narrator is still tired, and John has warned her he may send her to the physician Weir Mitchell in the fall if she does not get better. She finds she is anxious, argumentative, and cries easily when alone, which is often. The wallpaper is proving to be stimulating. She spends hours studying the confusing, chaotic patterns. In one sunlit section of the room, she can make out a more ordered pattern.

The narrator writes only to relieve her thoughts, but the effort is too great even for that. She fails to convince John to let her visit Cousin Henry and Julia, and her tears undermine her argument. John is very caring with her and encourages her to use her will power to get better. The one comfort to her is that the baby has been well, and has not been forced to use the horrid nursery. She thinks there are things in the wallpaper only she knows about; the repeating shape of a woman stooping down and creeping around becomes clearer each day.

Analysis

The narrator says "There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me." Calling it "paper" rather than "wallpaper" suggests the wallpaper functions similarly to the paper she has been writing. The wallpaper is becoming a kind of literary text in which she discovers deep meaning under the surface.

The meaning of the wallpaper is, as she says, growing clearer each day. Under the confusing patterns, which more closely mirror her chaotic mind, appears the image of a woman in a somewhat subservient pose ("stooping down and creeping around").

John's paternalism grows, as well. He treats her more like his infant, calling her "his darling and his comfort," as if her identity exists only through him. The narrator also believes "I must take care of myself for his sake," a statement loaded with irony. The irony of John's control over her again resurfaces when he tells her she must use her "will and self-control" to get better when, in fact, he has been controlling her all along.

Gilman makes a boldly insulting reference to Silas Weir Mitchell, the doctor who prescribed her a similar "rest cure" in 1887, and who is "just like John and my brother, only more so!"

Summary and Analysis of Part 4

Part Four: Summary

The narrator finds it difficult to talk to John about her case, but she tries it one night. She watches the female figure on the wallpaper by the moonlight. When she gets up to look at it and comes back, John is awake. She asks him if they can leave, but he says their lease is up in three weeks and their house is still being remodeled; besides, she looks like she is getting better. She said "Better in body perhaps" but John interrupts and warns her not to "let that idea enter your mind!" He goes to sleep but she stays up for hours staring at the wallpaper.

The wallpaper's pattern continues to absorb the narrator. She notices that when the first ray of sunlight shoots through the east window, the pattern changes quickly. By moonlight, the pattern looks completely different. The pattern becomes bars, and the figure of a woman becomes very clear. John makes the narrator lie down more, and she thinks he and Jennie are acting strangely. She thinks they are both interested in the wallpaper, too; she caught Jennie touching it one time under the excuse that the paper stains clothing. The narrator resolves that no one shall figure out the pattern but her.

Analysis

The motif of sunlight and moonlight develops here as the wallpaper's meaning clarifies. By moonlight, the narrator gains the strength to ask John to let her leave the house (although her plea is unsuccessful).

Then, the wallpaper's pattern emerges by moonlight. The figure of a woman behind bars symbolizes the oppression of female domestication, since she is barred within wallpaper. Wallpaper is stereotypically a floral, feminine fixture in rooms. Women of the late 19th-century, like Jennie and Mary, were expected only to tend to the housework and the family - and rarely to leave freely for work as John does.

But the narrator grows subconsciously aware of this oppression only at night, when the subconscious is allowed to roam. In the daytime, she is repressed like the wallpaper's figure: "By daylight she is subdued, quiet. I fancy it is the pattern that keeps her so still."

John continues his condescending, infantilizing behavior toward his "'little girl,'" about whom he says, as if she is not in the room, "'bless her little heart!'" His refusal to discuss her intimations that she is mentally ill portends disaster.

The narrator's prose style grows choppier and more paranoid. She fears everyone else is trying to figure out the meaning of the wallpaper, and she "cultivates deceit" as she often pretends to be asleep.

Summary and Analysis of Part 5

Part Five: Summary

The narrator finds life more exciting now because of the wallpaper. Her health improves, but she does not tell John it is due to the wallpaper for fear he would laugh or take her away. She does not want to leave until she has "found it out," and thinks the remaining week will be enough to do so.

The narrator sleeps in the daytime and watches the developments in the wallpaper by night. She finds the smell from the wallpaper - a subtle but enduring odor - creeps over the entire house and gets in her hair. The "yellow smell" was initially disturbing, but now she is used to it. There is also a mark low down on the wall that streaks around the entire room as if it had been rubbed in repeatedly. She wonders why it is there and who did it.

At night, the narrator discovers that the wallpaper shakes. She is not sure if it is only one woman in the wallpaper's pattern crawling around fast, or if there are many women. In the bright spots she is still, and in the darker spots she shakes the bars of the pattern and tries to climb through. But no one can get through the pattern, which has strangled and left in place so many women's heads.

The narrator believes she sees the wallpaper woman "creeping" outside in the daylight and hiding when others come.

The narrator has only two days left to remove the "top pattern" of the wallpaper off "from the other one." John and Jennie are growing suspicious of her.

Analysis

The narrator insists that there is something to be "found...out" in the wallpaper. She reinforces the idea of the wallpaper as holding a tangible meaning she can unlock, and Gilman may as well be telling the reader to do the same with "The Yellow Wallpaper." Both the narrator and the reader try to "peel off" the top pattern of the wallpaper and the story, respectively, to uncover the deeper meaning below.

It is becoming clearer that the woman in the wallpaper represents feminine imprisonment. In her domesticated prison of the wallpaper, she stays subdued and still in bright spots but shakes the "bars" in darker spots. So far, brightness has been associated with the rigidity and regularity of male oppression, and darkness has been associated with feminine liberation.

The diffusion of the wallpaper's smell symbolizes how the wallpaper is infecting the narrator's mind, one that is increasingly paranoid and suspicious about John and Jennie. As her narrative delivery grows more chaotic and staccato, she identifies more strongly with the woman in the wallpaper. She refers to the pattern as "bars," just as there are bars in her room. Confusingly, when discussing the woman's habit of "creeping" about outside, the narrator says, "I always lock the door when I creep by daylight." She speaks as if she, and not the woman, is the one doing the creeping.

The "very funny mark" around the wall foreshadows an action the narrator will take at the story's end.

Summary and Analysis of Part 6

Part Six: Summary

They are leaving the house soon and servants pack up the furniture. John has to stay overnight in town. Jennie wants to sleep with the narrator, but the narrator tells her she will sleep better on her own. When the moon comes out, however, the woman in the wallpaper shakes the pattern. The narrator helps her by pulling off the paper. By morning, she has peeled off a head-high strip halfway around the room.

In the morning, Jennie sees the half-stripped wallpaper and jokes that she would not mind doing it herself, but that the narrator should rest. The narrator wants to be the only one who touches it, and she is suspicious of Jennie.

Night comes and the narrator is alone. She locks the door and throws the key down into the front path. She wants to astonish John when he comes in. She has a rope to tie up the woman in case she tries to get away. She cannot reach high up along the wall, and she cannot move the bed. She pulls off what she can reach, and hears within the pattern the "strangled heads and bulbous eyes and fungus growths...shriek with derision."

Frustrated and angry, the narrator wants to jump out the window, but the bars are solid, and an action like that might be "misconstrued." She does not even like to look out the window, as all the women creep about. She wonders if they came out of the wallpaper as she did. She ties herself up with the rope. Though she enjoys creeping about the room, she thinks she will have to get back inside the wallpaper when it "comes night."

John tries to open the locked door, but he cannot. The narrator tells him where the key is, and he finds it and enters. He asks her what she is doing as she creeps around. She tells him that she has finally gotten out of the wallpaper despite him and "'Jane,'" and that she has pulled off most of the wallpaper so they cannot put her back. John faints, but the narrator keeps creeping over him as she goes around the room.

Analysis

The narrator's insanity climaxes as she identifies completely with the woman in the wallpaper. She believes that not only has the woman come out of the wallpaper, but so has she. Again, the symbolic meaning is that both she and the woman have liberated themselves from masculine oppression; by tearing out of the domesticated prison of the wallpaper, they are free. This moment of liberation again occurs by moonlight when, according to the motif Gilman has drawn, women have a break from the oppression of masculine sunshine.

Some readers believe the narrator's mention of "'Jane" is an early uncorrected typo for "Jennie," but most acknowledge that Jane is the narrator's name (and a very plain one that is the perfect complement to "John"). With her statement that she has gotten out of the wallpaper despite John and Jane, she suggests that not only her husband, but also she herself has contributed to her imprisonment. She has allowed John to dominate her and curb her freedom, but this new self - one made up of the woman in the wallpaper and all the other women she sees "creeping" about - has broken free.

However, the odd verb "creeping" continually represents this act of breaking free. Creeping - either crawling or walking while hunched over - implies a gesture of subservience. The narrator (and the women creeping outside) is always afraid of being caught, so she must creep about. Still, this may indicate that early feminism needed to "creep" about silently in the shadows until it could stand tall. The multitudes of women the narrator sees are these early practitioners of feminism, who draw strength in their numbers and who have crept out of the wallpaper and now creep outside.

Gilman points out, therefore, that the narrator's liberation is incomplete. Her total insanity, of course, makes this more evident. Gilman drops clues in this section to indicate the room was previously used to house the insane and not as a nursery. The bars on the window are to prevent someone from jumping out, as the narrator contemplates doing; the immovable bed is "fairly gnawed" (and the narrator bites it, too); and the strange mark around the periphery of the room may be from someone else's repetitive crawling about.

There is one final irony that avenges the narrator's insanity: John's fainting is a stereotypically feminine show of weakness. Perhaps the differences between the genders are not so great after all.

ClassicNote on The Yellow Wallpaper

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