The Yellow Wallpaper and A Head Full of Ghosts

“The Yellow Wallpaper” (1892), Charlotte Perkins Gilman via Wikipedia

In the opening pages of A Head Full of Ghosts, author Paul Tremblay invokes Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper,” a 19th-Century short story that grapples with the complicated themes of feminism, mental health and healthcare, and (possibly) evil spirits. The short story comes as the journal of a woman confined to a single yellow-wallpapered room and“treated” via rest cure for hysteria. However, due to the lack of stimulation required by the so-called cure (a solution prescribed especially to women for an obscenely gendered “disease”), the woman fixates on the yellow wallpaper, going as far as seeing several women trapped within it and eventually believing herself to number among them.

Interpretations of the short story differ greatly. Gilman talked about the semi-autobiographical elements of her story–namely, her own personal experience as a patient. Gilman was diagnosed with hysteria–a nervous disorder originally thought to stem from problems with the uterus–and was placed under the care of Dr. Silas Weir Mitchell. Mitchell would become the champion of the rest cure, which he hoped would cure this almost uniquely feminine issue with isolation, lack of activity, and lack of mental stimulation. Sounds like a dubious at best cure for mental illness like depression or bipolar disorder, right? Gilman thought as much, as she crafted this story to fight against the dismissive (and severely ineffective treatment) she was forced to endure.

Feminist critics have decided to shift their critical gaze away from the explicit topic of mental health and instead talk about how the story exemplifies the patriarchal dominance of  society, especially within the medical field. They note the extreme gendering of the events of the story, namely focusing on how the male-prescribed rest cure sought to “cure” the uniquely feminine condition of the protagonist with a level of stimulation and activity more suited to the supposedly simpler female mind. They then view the protagonist’s eventual insanity as a kind of victory over male dominance.

Others can choose to take the tale more literally as a ghost or horror story. Gilman writes with enough ambiguity to allow the chilling events of the story to be ascribed to ghosts or even possessive spirits. The room the protagonist is confined to is supposedly a former nursery, but there are numerous details about it that could indicate otherwise (bars on the windows, rings on the walls, nailed-down bed, and the eponymous yellow wallpaper). Additionally, the protagonist describes the room in oddly violent terms, and even indicates she feels something off about the house when she first moves there for the summer. And then there’s the ending, of course, which at best could point to ghost-induced insanity and at worst a case of genuine possession.

On that note, it seems best to turn back to Tremblay’s A Head Full of Ghosts. Given all this information, the epigraph, and the numerous references made so far (mainly in reference to the “confessional room”), I thought that Gilman’s short story at least deserved some kind of mention. The story’s themes certainly seem to inform Tremblay’s story up to this point (and I suspect will rear their heads again in the coming chapters too). We see the issue of mental health arise with poor Marjorie, who complains to Merry that her condition has been mishandled by parents, psychiatrist, and priests–everyone. Additionally, we see the feminist perspective with Karen Brissette/Merry’s analysis of the family’s TV series. And finally, we see an ambiguity  similar to that which Gilman created, raising doubts as to whether Marjorie suffers from schizophrenia or something much more sinister.

Simulacra in “Be Right Back”

Black Mirror: Season 2 Episode 1 “Be Right Back,” (2013).  24 Jan. 2017 via Science of the Time

In thinking about the various questions raised by “Be Right Back,” I find my thoughts returning to a single issue, namely one concerning the reality of representation or artifice.

The problem first arises when Ash fixates on a childhood picture of himself and ignores Martha to post an ironic photo of the photo on social media. After much prodding, he puts down his phone and explains the history of the picture. With this particular representation of a representation, the term “simulacrum” comes to mind–a word that denotes an image or representation of someone or something, but often implies that representation to be a copy of a copy(or, at least, a copy of something not original, according to the work of French postmodernist Jean Baudrillard). Similar types of simulacra appear throughout the episode, ranging from the fake smile in the aforementioned photo to the imitation-Ash himself (itself?).

If we return to the conversation about the photo, we can see that Martha initially reacts positively to it, calling it “sweet” rather than darkly “funny.” Ash thinks otherwise, and even goes on to call it “fake,” while Martha implies that the photo’s authenticity didn’t matter, as his mother (who enjoyed keeping it around) had no idea it was “fake.”

With this kind of subject matter, I often conflate “real” with “true” and “fake” with “untrue.” But when a simulacrum bears no relationship with the original (as it is a representation of a representation) and makes little effort to do so, it can take on its own form of truth as it does in “Be Right Back.” At that point, the terms “real” and “fake” no longer seem to apply.  Baudrillard argues for the use of a different term to describe these simulacra–“hyperreal.”

The simulacra in “Be Right Back” all take on this aspect of hyperreallity, becoming temporarily more real than the real thing. The “fake” photo discussed above brought “real” comfort and happiness to Ash’s mom for a time. Likewise, the “fake” Ash did the same for Martha, even helping her move on from her all-consuming grief.