Frequently something I've been reading has recommended Charlotte Perkins Gilman's short story "The Yellow Wallpaper." So I ordered it. A thicker than expected book arrived. I didn’t look at it closely, assuming it was a collection of Gilman's short stories. Wrong! Turns out I'd run into something called A Bedford Cultural Edition, which starts with a bio of the author, a listing of major events of the decades through which the author lived, the short story or novel, then selections from the author's other work and selections where the work itself is mentioned, discussed or even related thematically. The back of the book lists other stories or novels than have been so presented. Stephen Crane's Maggie, A Girl of the Streets might hold my interest enough to make it through such a treatment. Or Hawthorne's The Blithedale Romance. But "The Yellow Wallpaper"? Not in your wildest dreams.
The problem I have is summoning up any empathy for Gilman and that, in turn, makes me feel guilty. Publishing in the 1890s, Gilman's focus was on women and how men and society kept them from following their dreams. Her biggest problem, I gather, took place after she had a child and became depressed. The prescribed treatment was rest, with strict instructions not to do any of that stressful writing. Today she'd have a diagnosis of postpartum and be treated with drugs. Beyond the postpartum, however, my guess is that she'd also be considered bipolar or chronically depressed. Okay. But she isn't living now. I keep telling myself to cut her some slack, but I can't do it. All I keep thinking is that at least two decades earlier Louisa May Alcott wanted to write and went ahead and wrote. Then we can jump back a lot of years, cross the pond and run into the Bronte sisters and other women who wrote, despite the hurdles they faced. Gilman appears to have spent a lot of time whining, and I don't like whiners.
Anyhow, putting aside my probably unfair annoyance with the author, "The Yellow Wallpaper" was pretty good. It's about a woman writer who is confined to a room because of being depressed after giving birth. Although the narrator dislikes the wallpaper, the story ends happily when the woman whom the narrator sees trapped behind the patterns in the wallpaper is finally free.
