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

The Lottery
by Shirley Jackson

Word Count: 3773

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. The people of the village began to gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock; in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 2th. but in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two hours, so it could begin at ten o'clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner.

The children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them; they tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play. and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his pockets full of stones, and the other boys soon followed his example, selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix-- the villagers pronounced this name "Dellacroy"--eventually made a great pile of stones in one corner of the square and guarded it against the raids of the other boys. The girls stood aside, talking among themselves, looking over their shoulders at rolled in the dust or clung to the hands of their older brothers or sisters.

Soon the men began to gather. surveying their own children, speaking of planting and rain, tractors and taxes. They stood together, away from the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and they smiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came shortly after their menfolk. They greeted one another and exchanged bits of gossip as they went to join their husbands. Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call to their children, and the children came reluctantly, having to be called four or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his mother's grasping hand and ran, laughing, back to the pile of stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby came quickly and took his place between his father and his oldest brother.

The lottery was conducted--as were the square dances, the teen club, the Halloween program--by Mr. Summers. who had time and energy to devote to civic activities. He was a round-faced, jovial man and he ran the coal business, and people were sorry for him. because he had no children and his wife was a scold. When he arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur of conversation among the villagers, and he waved and called. "Little late today, folks." The postmaster, Mr. Graves, followed him, carrying a three- legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and Mr. Summers set the black box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space between themselves and the stool. and when Mr. Summers said, "Some of you fellows want to give me a hand?" there was a hesitation before two men. Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter. came forward to hold the box steady on the stool while Mr. Summers stirred up the papers inside it.

The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black box now resting on the stool had been put into use even before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, was born. Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box. There was a story that the present box had been made with some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been constructed when the first people settled down to make a village here. Every year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking again about a new box, but every year the subject was allowed to fade off without anything's being done. The black box grew shabbier each year: by now it was no longer completely black but splintered badly along one side to show the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained.

Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the black box securely on the stool until Mr. Summers had stirred the papers thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of the ritual had been forgotten or discarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in having slips of paper substituted for the chips of wood that had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers had argued. had been all very well when the village was tiny, but now that the population was more than three hundred and likely to keep on growing, it was necessary to use something that would fit more easily into he black box. The night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it was then taken to the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers was ready to take it to the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way, sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves's barn and another year underfoot in the post office. and sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there.

There was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr. Summers declared the lottery open. There were the lists to make up--of heads of families. heads of households in each family. members of each household in each family. There was the proper swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as the official of the lottery; at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort, performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory. tuneless chant that had been rattled off duly each year; some people believed that the official of the lottery used to stand just so when he said or sang it, others believed that he was supposed to walk among the people, but years and years ago this p3rt of the ritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a ritual salute, which the official of the lottery had had to use in addressing each person who came up to draw from the box, but this also had changed with time, until now it was felt necessary only for the official to speak to each person approaching. Mr. Summers was very good at all this; in his clean white shirt and blue jeans. with one hand resting carelessly on the black box. he seemed very proper and important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves and the Martins.

Just as Mr. Summers finally left off talking and turned to the assembled villagers, Mrs. Hutchinson came hurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown over her shoulders, and slid into place in the back of the crowd. "Clean forgot what day it was," she said to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood next to her, and they both laughed softly. "Thought my old man was out back stacking wood," Mrs. Hutchinson went on. "and then I looked out the window and the kids was gone, and then I remembered it was the twenty-seventh and came a-running." She dried her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix said, "You're in time, though. They're still talking away up there."

Mrs. Hutchinson craned her neck to see through the crowd and found her husband and children standing near the front. She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began to make her way through the crowd. The people separated good-humoredly to let her through: two or three people said. in voices just loud enough to be heard across the crowd, "Here comes your, Missus, Hutchinson," and "Bill, she made it after all." Mrs. Hutchinson reached her husband, and Mr. Summers, who had been waiting, said cheerfully. "Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie." Mrs. Hutchinson said. grinning, "Wouldn't have me leave m'dishes in the sink, now, would you. Joe?," and soft laughter ran through the crowd as the people stirred back into position after Mrs. Hutchinson's arrival.

"Well, now." Mr. Summers said soberly, "guess we better get started, get this over with, so's we can go back to work. Anybody ain't here?"

"Dunbar." several people said. "Dunbar. Dunbar."

Mr. Summers consulted his list. "Clyde Dunbar." he said. "That's right. He's broke his leg, hasn't he? Who's drawing for him?"

"Me. I guess," a woman said. and Mr. Summers turned to look at her. "Wife draws for her husband." Mr. Summers said. "Don't you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?" Although Mr. Summers and everyone else in the village knew the answer perfectly well, it was the business of the official of the lottery to ask such questions formally. Mr. Summers waited with an expression of polite interest while Mrs. Dunbar answered.

"Horace's not but sixteen vet." Mrs. Dunbar said regretfully. "Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this year."

"Right." Sr. Summers said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he asked, "Watson boy drawing this year?"

A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. "Here," he said. "I m drawing for my mother and me." He blinked his eyes nervously and ducked his head as several voices in the crowd said thin#s like "Good fellow, lack." and "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it."

"Well," Mr. Summers said, "guess that's everyone. Old Man Warner make it?"

"Here," a voice said. and Mr. Summers nodded.

A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his throat and looked at the list. "All ready?" he called. "Now, I'll read the names--heads of families first--and the men come up and take a paper out of the box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn. Everything clear?"

The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the directions: most of them were quiet. wetting their lips. not looking around. Then Mr. Summers raised one hand high and said, "Adams." A man disengaged himself from the crowd and came forward. "Hi. Steve." Mr. Summers said. and Mr. Adams said. "Hi. Joe." They grinned at one another humorlessly and nervously. Then Mr. Adams reached into the black box and took out a folded paper. He held it firmly by one corner as he turned and went hastily back to his place in the crowd. where he stood a little apart from his family. not looking down at his hand.

"Allen." Mr. Summers said. "Anderson.... Bentham."

"Seems like there's no time at all between lotteries any more." Mrs. Delacroix said to Mrs. Graves in the back row.

"Seems like we got through with the last one only last week."

"Time sure goes fast.-- Mrs. Graves said.

"Clark.... Delacroix"

"There goes my old man." Mrs. Delacroix said. She held her breath while her husband went forward.

"Dunbar," Mr. Summers said, and Mrs. Dunbar went steadily to the box while one of the women said. "Go on. Janey," and another said, "There she goes."

"We're next." Mrs. Graves said. She watched while Mr. Graves came around from the side of the box, greeted Mr. Summers gravely and selected a slip of paper from the box. By now, all through the crowd there were men holding the small folded papers in their large hand. turning them over and over nervously Mrs. Dunbar and her two sons stood together, Mrs. Dunbar holding the slip of paper.

"Harburt.... Hutchinson."

"Get up there, Bill," Mrs. Hutchinson said. and the people near her laughed.

"Jones."

"They do say," Mr. Adams said to Old Man Warner, who stood next to him, "that over in the north village they're talking of giving up the lottery."

Old Man Warner snorted. "Pack of crazy fools," he said. "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 hat 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," he added petulantly. "Bad enough to see young Joe Summers up there joking with everybody."

"Some places have already quit lotteries." Mrs. Adams said.

"Nothing but trouble in that," Old Man Warner said stoutly. "Pack of young fools."

"Martin." And Bobby Martin watched his father go forward. "Overdyke.... Percy."

"I wish they'd hurry," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son. "I wish they'd hurry."

"They're almost through," her son said.

"You get ready to run tell Dad," Mrs. Dunbar said.

Mr. Summers called his own name and then stepped forward precisely and selected a slip from the box. Then he called, "Warner."

"Seventy-seventh year I been in the lottery," Old Man Warner said as he went through the crowd. "Seventy-seventh time."

"Watson" The tall boy came awkwardly through the crowd. Someone said, "Don't be nervous, Jack," and Mr. Summers said, "Take your time, son."

"Zanini."

After that, there was a long pause, a breathless pause, until Mr. Summers. holding his slip of paper in the air, said, "All right, fellows." For a minute, no one moved, and then all the slips of paper were opened. Suddenly, all the women began to speak at once, saving. "Who is it?," "Who's got it?," "Is it the Dunbars?," "Is it the Watsons?" Then the voices began to say, "It's Hutchinson. It's Bill," "Bill Hutchinson's got it."

"Go tell your father," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son.

People began to look around to see the Hutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson was standing quiet, staring down at the paper in his hand. Suddenly. Tessie Hutchinson shouted to Mr. Summers. "You didn't give him time enough to take any paper he wanted. I saw you. It wasn't fair!"

"Be a good sport, Tessie." Mrs. Delacroix called, and Mrs. Graves said, "All of us took the same chance."

"Shut up, Tessie," Bill Hutchinson said.

"Well, everyone," Mr. Summers said, "that was done pretty fast, and now we've got to be hurrying a little more to get done in time." He consulted his next list. "Bill," he said, "you draw for the Hutchinson family. You got any other households in the Hutchinsons?"

"There's Don and Eva," Mrs. Hutchinson yelled. "Make them take their chance!"

"Daughters draw with their husbands' families, Tessie," Mr. Summers said gently. "You know that as well as anyone else."

"It wasn't fair," Tessie said.

"I guess not, Joe." Bill Hutchinson said regretfully. "My daughter draws with her husband's family; that's only fair. And I've got no other family except the kids."

"Then, as far as drawing for families is concerned, it's you," Mr. Summers said in explanation, "and as far as drawing for households is concerned, that's you, too. Right?"

"Right," Bill Hutchinson said.

"How many kids, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked formally.

"Three," Bill Hutchinson said.

"There's Bill, Jr., and Nancy, and little Dave. And Tessie and me."

"All right, then," Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you got their tickets back?"

Mr. Graves nodded and held up the slips of paper. "Put them in the box, then," Mr. Summers directed. "Take Bill's and put it in."

"I think we ought to start over," Mrs. Hutchinson said, as quietly as she could. "I tell you it wasn't fair. You didn't give him time enough to choose. Everybody saw that."

Mr. Graves had selected the five slips and put them in the box. and he dropped all the papers but those onto the ground. where the breeze caught them and lifted them off.

"Listen, everybody," Mrs. Hutchinson was saying to the people around her.

"Ready, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked. and Bill Hutchinson, with one quick glance around at his wife and children. nodded.

"Remember," Mr. Summers said. "take the slips and keep them folded until each person has taken one. Harry, you help little Dave." Mr. Graves took the hand of the little boy, who came willingly with him up to the box. "Take a paper out of the box, Davy." Mr. Summers said. Davy put his hand into the box and laughed. "Take just one paper." Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you hold it for him." Mr. Graves took the child's hand and removed the folded paper from the tight fist and held it while little Dave stood next to him and looked up at him wonderingly.

"Nancy next," Mr. Summers said. Nancy was twelve, and her school friends breathed heavily as she went forward switching her skirt, and took a slip daintily from the box "Bill, Jr.," Mr. Summers said, and Billy, his face red and his feet overlarge, near knocked the box over as he got a paper out. "Tessie," Mr. Summers said. She hesitated for a minute, looking around defiantly. and then set her lips and went up to the box. She snatched a paper out and held it behind her.

"Bill," Mr. Summers said, and Bill Hutchinson reached into the box and felt around, bringing his hand out at last with the slip of paper in it.

The crowd was quiet. A girl whispered, "I hope it's not Nancy," and the sound of the whisper reached the edges of the crowd.

"It's not the way it used to be." Old Man Warner said clearly. "People ain't the way they used to be."

"All right," Mr. Summers said. "Open the papers. Harry, you open little Dave's."

Mr. Graves opened the slip of paper and there was a general sigh through the crowd as he held it up and everyone could see that it was blank. Nancy and Bill. Jr.. opened theirs at the same time. and both beamed and laughed. turning around to the crowd and holding their slips of paper above their heads.

"Tessie," Mr. Summers said. There was a pause, and then Mr. Summers looked at Bill Hutchinson, and Bill unfolded his paper and showed it. It was blank.

"It's Tessie," Mr. Summers said, and his voice was hushed. "Show us her paper. Bill."

Bill Hutchinson went over to his wife and forced the slip of paper out of her hand. It had a black spot on it, the black spot Mr. Summers had made the night before with the heavy pencil in the coal company office. Bill Hutchinson held it up, and there was a stir in the crowd.

"All right, folks." Mr. Summers said. "Let's finish quickly."

Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones. The pile of stones the boys had made earlier was ready; there were stones on the ground with the blowing scraps of paper that had come out of the box Delacroix selected a stone so large she had to pick it up with both hands and turned to Mrs. Dunbar. "Come on," she said. "Hurry up."

Mr. Dunbar had small stones in both hands, and she said. gasping for breath. "I can't run at all. You'll have to go ahead and I'll catch up with you."

The children had stones already. And someone gave little Davy Hutchinson few pebbles.

Tessie Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. "It isn't fair," she said. A stone hit her on the side of the head. Old Man Warner was saying, "Come on, come on, everyone." Steve Adams was in the front of the crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him.

"It isn't fair, it isn't right," Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.

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"The Lottery," A Story of Blind Obedience
posted by josie320 on 3/29/04 5:35 PM

This is a literary analysis of the short story by Shirley Jackson. It is my hope that people will find this useful without stealing the whole thing. I wrote it for a college intro to literature class and received an A from a very difficult professor, so you can count on the information being legitimate. Good luck!!

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'"'The Lottery,'"' A Story of Blind Obedience

When reading '"'The Lottery'"' for the first time, it is easy to anticipate a story about impossible odds and large sums of money. However, Shirley Jackson delivers an interpretation of a topic that is on the exact opposite end of the emotional spectrum. Immediately after finishing this short story, the reader is left wondering why Jackson would create such a cynical and gruesome concept. Upon a closer look, however, Jackson has simply applied her adept skill to point out a fundamental flaw in modern society. The way in which the townspeople of this story carry out the motions of the lottery is a direct relation to the way people in modern American society live their lives without nearly enough thought given to change, revolution, or individualism. Unique opinion is all too often rejected in favor of the more commonly accepted way of doing things. Through a series of clever symbols and recognizable character traits, Jackson has created a story designed to stun people into realizing the senseless conformity all around them. According to Gioia and Kennedy, Jackson also provides her readers with a brutal example of '"'the pointless violence and general inhumanity in their own lives'"' (254). Gioia and Kennedy also point out that the scare value of this story was effective enough to sell out every copy of the New Yorker that contained it. Combine these simple elements and a theme to the story can easily be defined. The theme in '"'The Lottery'"' is that of blind obedience.
The story starts out by describing a very beautiful day, including a description of how '"'the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green'"' (Jackson 255). This detail, as it turns out, directly contradicts the only reason given for actually performing the tradition known as the lottery. After the actual lottery begins, Old Man Warner insists that Mr. Adams realize that there has never been a time when there wasn"'"t a lottery, and so there is no good reason to eradicate it now. Warner also says, '"'Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon'"' (Jackson 258). At no other point in the story is an additional satisfactory reason given for such a horrific practice to have a place in this small town or anywhere else for that matter. Since we immediately find out that the climate and the plant life are in harmony in this particular setting, there is no reason for the people to make the sacrifice to ensure abundant crops. But just like Old Man Warner, it is hard for the townspeople as a group to listen to any input that is against the mainstream way of doing things. It is exactly this kind of small-mindedness, along with reckless stubbornness and ignorance that Shirley Jackson is trying to point out to her readers.
Throughout this short story, there are only three people that speak out against this terrible tradition. The first is Mr. Adams when he says, '"'over in the north village they"'"re talking of giving up the lottery'"' (Jackson 258). This immediately arouses Old Man Warner who retorts, '"'Pack of crazy fools […] Listening to the young folks, nothing"'"s good enough for them'"' (Jackson 258). Unfortunately for this town, and later for Mrs. Hutchinson, no one else has the initiative to back up Mr. Adams except for his own wife. Mrs. Adams answers Old Man Warner by claiming that there are places that have already stopped conducting the lottery. Old Man Warner repeats his opinion about how people who cease the lottery are simply crazy. Through reading this story, it becomes very apparent that Old Man Warner symbolizes the mentality of not only his entire village and society, but the mentality of modern American society as well. It is unfortunate that people like Old Man Warner do not realize that times change, and sometimes the old fashioned way of doings things is old fashioned for a reason. Reluctance to try something new is like turning a cold shoulder to curiosity, education, development, and ultimately, personal and societal improvement. Shirley Jackson wrote this story in 1948 in Vermont, further reinforcing the fact that this story is a direct parallel to the way people currently live their lives, blindly letting others make decisions for them.
The other very obvious person to speak out against the lottery is Mrs. Hutchinson. As soon as it was determined to be her family that would be making the sacrifice, she became hysterical. Unfortunately her motives for speaking out against the lottery were selfish and unfounded, completely ruining her credibility, and as a result no one in the town took the time to listen and consider what she was saying. For example, Mrs. Delacroix responded to Mrs. Hutchinson"'"s protests by saying, '"'Be a good sport, Tessie'"' (Jackson 259). Be a good sport? This comment clearly displays how the townspeople are reluctant to imagine a life without this horrible tradition. Moreover, everyone else in the town was feeling an overwhelming feeling of relief, as they knew that they didn"'"t have to worry about the lottery for at least another year. Since the majority of the townspeople were experiencing the same feeling of relief from the crushing stress of impending death, no one really cared about what Mrs. Hutchinson or the Adams were saying, making it even more unlikely that anyone would consider their petition for a change. In this story, Mrs. Hutchinson and the Adams represent the select few from modern society who are willing to take the risk and speak out against the dominant opinion. They are the people who are often labeled as outcasts or even freaks, even though they are part of the few who are willing to not only think for themselves, but to voice that opinion in the face of adversity as well. Furthermore, they are a symbol of courage and change, considering that many of the rituals involved with the lottery have eroded away over time, probably because of small and seemingly insignificant protest such as that presented by the Adams and Mrs. Hutchinson.
Some of the most significant rituals associated with the lottery that have disappeared over time have been the monotone chant and the salute given by the person in charge of overseeing the lottery as each individual approaches the black box. In fact, the reality that bits and pieces of the original tradition have been dying over time is a strong indication that many of the townspeople have felt that a change is needed. It is inevitable that an underlying common opinion will eventually prevail, even though hardly anyone is willing to stand up for what everyone else is thinking. In the case of this town, the underlying opinion has taken multiple generations to manifest itself in the form of the deteriorating rituals involved with the lottery. For example, Mr. Summers, the man in charge of running such events as the lottery, while on the surface appears to hold the lottery in high esteem, actually gives the reader reason to believe that he too questions whether or not times are changing, and if the lottery still remains a reasonable tradition. The most obvious thing that Mr. Summers does to imply his inner conflict with the situation is to discard the wood chips in favor of paper slips for use in the black box. This part of the tradition has lost value to him, so he resorts to a much easier and efficient method of conducting the lottery, rather than preserving a signature part of the process. His negative feelings toward the lottery may very well have been unconscious, but he has helped to whittle away at the tradition nonetheless. The other action, or lack of action, that Mr. Summers commits in his private struggle with the lottery is when he often talks of constructing a new box for the paper slips. He never actually executes this plan. Instead, he, along with everyone else in the story, is not actually very worried about the condition of the box at all. This popular opinion toward the state of the box can be directly linked to the overall condition of the town"'"s attitude toward the lottery itself.
The treatment and appearance of the black box is one of the most symbolic aspects of '"'The Lottery.'"' Colors have always been an easy indication to what an object might symbolize, and the black color of the box is no different. One of the most important symbols associated with the black box is the sense of impending death. It does not take long for the reader to realize that there is an uneasy feeling at the town square that morning, and that this must not be an ordinary lottery. The black box is one of the things that helps to create this feeling. After Jackson sets the scene in the town square, she decides to go into further detail about the appearance of the black box. By adding these special details, the symbolism of the black box is greatly enhanced. First of all, the reader learns that the box has potentially been built with pieces from the box that was used previously, '"'even before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, was born'"' (Jackson 255). This demonstrates some futile attempts to hold on to the old tradition, but in the end it is an aged, neglected box that no one really wants to take the time to repair or rebuild. As a result, '"'The box grew shabbier each year; by now it was no longer completely black but splintered badly along one side to show the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained'"' (Jackson 255). Although the box is supposed to be black, the splintering of the sides represents the faltering of an old tradition. The people of this town have been carrying out the motions of the lottery for several generations. It has been so long that for many, the only reason they keep doing it is simply because of the longevity of the routine. Faded and stained are also used to describe the condition of the box. Both words are helpful in reinforcing the image that much of the ritualistic aspects have faded and the motives of the tradition have become stained. In other words, many of the rituals have been forgotten over time, and there are no remaining motives to speak of that would justify holding on to this dreadful tradition. However contradictory it may seem, the townspeople continue with the lottery purely because they do not know anything different.
There are many other symbolic elements in '"'The Lottery,'"' including Mr. Graves"'" name, Mrs. Hutchinson forgetting what day it was, and the townspeople letting their used scraps of paper blow away in the wind. Almost all of these symbols, in one way or another, point toward the idea of blind obedience. All too often, in modern society, people decide to let others make their decisions for them. This is evident in something as simple as submitting to peer pressure, as well as the utter lack of voter turnout on an election day. This issue is something that Shirley Jackson wanted to voice her opinion about, and to be sure that her belief was heard, she developed a brutal, gruesome, and horrific story in order to gain the attention of her public. There is no doubt that she achieved her goal of gaining attention toward her ideas, but unfortunately blind obedience is an inherent factor of living in large communities that place values in holding on to the past, no matter what the traditions or rituals that might be involved with such a practice.


Works Cited

Kennedy, X.J., and Dana Gioia. Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama. New York: Longman, 2002.

Jackson, Shirley. '"'The Lottery.'"' Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, and
Drama. X.J. Kennedy and Dana Gioia. New York: Longman, 2002. 254-261.



http://www.cummingsstudyguides.net/TheLottery.html#The%20Lottery

Background and Themes
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Author Shirley Jackson (1919-1965), an American writer of short stories and novels. Her most famous works are “The Lottery” and a novel entitled The Haunting of Hill House.
Setting New England village on a sunny day
Date of publication 1948 in The New Yorker, a literary magazine.
Type of Work Short Story. “The Lottery” is considered one of the finest American short stories of the 20th Century.
Point of View Third Person, detached.
Theme 1 The reluctance of people to reject outdated traditions, ideas, rules, laws, and practices. The villagers continue the lottery year after year because, as one of the villagers would say, “We have always had a lottery as far back as I can remember. I see no reason to end it.” Put another way, this theme says: “We’ve always done it this way. Why change now?” Defenders of the status quo have used this philosophy down through the ages and into the present day. For example, it was used in 1776 to retain slavery even though the Declaration of Independence asserted that “all men are created equal.” Until 1919, it was used to prevent women from voting. Until the 1960's, it was used as an official public policy to allow racial segregation. This philosophy continues to be used today to retain outmoded practices, discriminatory practices, and sometimes dangerous practices. These practices include the use of paper ballots in elections, the use of nuclear weapons, capital punishment, abortion, anti-Semitism, racial profiling, and denial of health benefits to the poor.
Theme 2 Society wrongfully designates scapegoats to bear the sins of the community. According to some interpretations of “The Lottery,” Tessie Hutchinson is stoned to death to appease forces desiring a sacrificial lamb offered in atonement for the sins of others. The practice of using scapegoats dates back to ancient times, when Jews ritually burdened a goat with the sins of the people, then threw it over a cliff to rid the community of those sins. Ancient Greeks performed a similar ritual with a human scapegoat, although the scapegoat apparently did not die. In ancient Rome, an innocent person could take on the sin of a guilty person, thus purifying the latter. Early societies in Central and South America offered human sacrifices to appease higher powers.
Theme 3 The wickedness of the common man or woman on the street can be just as shocking and horrifying as the heinous crime of a serial killer or a sadistic head of state. From time to time, we are surprised to learn that the man, woman, or even child next door–a quiet, unassuming postal worker, bank clerk, or student–has committed offenses so outrageous that they make national news.
Theme 4 The unexamined life is not worth living. The truth of this dictum of the ancient Greek philosopher, Socrates, becomes clear when the townspeople refuse to examine their traditions–and continue to take part in a barbaric ritual.
Theme 5 Following the crowd can have disastrous consequences. Although some townspeople raise questions about the lottery, they all go along with it in the end. Thus, they become unthinking members of a herd, forfeiting their individuality and sending Tessie Hutchinson to her death.
Foreshadowing Shirley Jackson uses foreshadowing (second paragraph; the gathering of stones) to presage the ending and make it seem more plausible.
Irony Jackson uses irony throughout the story. For example, the title suggests that one of the villagers will receive a boon; the sunny day indicates that a happy event is about to take place.
Symbolism The black box and the stoning represent outdated traditions.
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Plot Summary
By Michael J. Cummings © 2004
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.......Residents of a New England village gather at 10 a.m. on June 27 in the square between the post office and the bank for the annual lottery. A bright sun is shining down on fragrant flowers and green lawns while the townspeople–more than 300 of them–await the arrival of Mr. Summers and the black wooden box from which everyone is to draw a folded slip of paper. Adults chat while children play a game in which they gather stones. Whoever draws the slip of paper with the black dot on it will receive all of the lottery proceeds.
.......Over the years, the lottery rules and trappings remained the same except for minor changes: Wood chips were replaced by the slips of paper, and ritual chants and salutes preceding the drawing were eliminated. Other than those modernizations, the same old wooden box and the same old rules prevailed year after year.
.......No one in the square knows why or under what circumstances the lottery began. All they know is that it is a tradition–a tradition that they are not willing to abandon.
.......After Mr. Summers shows up with the black box, he sets it down and prepares for the drawing. A housewife, Mrs. Tessie Hutchinson, arrives late just then, telling Mrs. Delacroix that she “Clean forgot what day it was” until she noticed that her children had left her house and remembered it was the day of the lottery.
.......Each of the townspeople draws a folded slip of paper but does not open it until everyone has drawn. When the big moment arrives, it is Tessie Hutchinson who has the paper with the black dot. Everyone then closes in on her, picks up rocks–the “proceeds” of the lottery–and stones her to death.