short story essay on the lottery

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The Lottery

By Shirley Jackson

Audio: Read by A. M. Homes.

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 26th, but in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took only about 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 the boys, and the very small children 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-age 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 the black box. The night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them into 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 away, sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves’ 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 part 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 Mrs., 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 yet,” Mrs. Dunbar said regretfully. “Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this year.”

“Right,” Mr. 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 m’mother and me.” He blinked his eyes nervously and ducked his head as several voices in the crowd said things like “Good fellow, Jack,” 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 hands, 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.

“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 that 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.”

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, saying, “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. Every body 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, nearly 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. Mrs. 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.”

Mrs. 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 a 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

Shirley jackson, everything you need for every book you read..

Literary Theory and Criticism

Home › Literature › Analysis of Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery

Analysis of Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery

By NASRULLAH MAMBROL on May 28, 2021

As were many of Shirley Jackson’s stories, “The Lottery” was first published in the New Yorker  and, subsequently, as the title story of The Lottery: or, The Adventures of James Harris in 1949. It may well be the world’s most frequently anthologized short story. A modern horror story, it derives its effect from a reversal of the readers’ expectations, already established by the ordinary setting of a warm June day in a rural community. Readers, lulled into this false summer complacency, begin to feel horror, their moods changing with the narrator’s careful use of evidence and suspense, until the full realization of the appalling ritual murder bursts almost unbearably on them.

The story opens innocently enough, as the townspeople gather for an unidentified annual event connected to the harvest. The use of names initially seems to bolster the friendliness of the gathering; we feel we know these people as, one by one, their names are called in alphabetical order. In retrospect, however, the names of the male lottery organizers—Summer and Graves—provide us with clues to the transition from life to death. Tessie, the soon-to-be-victim housewife, may allude to another bucolic Tess (in Thomas Hardy’s novel Tess of the D’Urbervilles ), whose promising beginnings transformed into gore and death at the hands of men.

Shirley Jackson/Erich Hartmann

The scholar and critic Linda Wagner-Martin observes that only recently have readers noticed the import of the sacrificial victim’s gender: In the traditional patriarchal system that values men and children, mothers are devalued once they have fulfilled their childbearing roles. Tessie, late to the gathering because her arms were plunged to the elbow in dishwater, seems inconsequential, even irritating, at first. Only as everyone in the town turns against her— children, men, other women invested in the system that sustains them—does the reader become aware that this is a ritual stoning of a scapegoat who can depend on no one: not her daughter, not her husband, not even her little boy, Davy, who picks up an extraordinarily large rock to throw at her.

No reader can finish this story without contemplating the violence and inhumanity that Jackson intended it to portray. In the irony of its depiction lies the horror of this classic tale and, one hopes, a careful reevaluation of social codes and meaningless rituals.

Analysis of Shirley Jackson’s Stories

https://www.newyorker.com/podcast/the-authors-voice/a-m-homes-reads-shirley-jackson-the-lottery

BIBLIOGRAPHY Jackson, Shirley. The Lottery: or, The Adventures of James Harris. New York: Farrar, Straus, 1949. Wagner-Martin, Linda. “The Lottery.” In Reference Guide to Short Fiction, edited by Noelle Watson, 783–784. Detroit: St. James Press, 1994.

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Analysis of 'The Lottery' by Shirley Jackson

Taking Tradition to Task

ThoughtCo / Hilary Allison

• Short Stories
• Best Sellers
• Classic Literature
• Plays & Drama
• Shakespeare
• Children's Books
• Ph.D., English, State University of New York at Albany
• B.A., English, Brown University

When Shirley Jackson's chilling story "The Lottery" was first published in 1948 in The New Yorker , it generated more letters than any work of fiction the magazine had ever published. Readers were furious, disgusted, occasionally curious, and almost uniformly bewildered.

The public outcry over the story can be attributed, in part, to The New Yorker 's practice at the time of publishing works without identifying them as fact or fiction. Readers were also presumably still reeling from the horrors of World War II. Yet, though times have changed and we all now know the story is fiction, "The Lottery" has maintained its grip on readers decade after decade.

"The Lottery" is one of the most widely known stories in American literature and American culture. It has been adapted for radio, theater, television, and even ballet. The Simpsons television show included a reference to the story in its "Dog of Death" episode (season three).

"The Lottery" is available to subscribers of The New Yorker and is also available in The Lottery and Other Stories , a collection of Jackson's work with an introduction by the writer A. M. Homes. You can hear Homes read and discuss the story with fiction editor Deborah Treisman at The New Yorker for free.

Plot Summary

"The Lottery" takes place on June 27, a beautiful summer day, in a small New England village where all the residents are gathering for their traditional annual lottery. Though the event first appears festive, it soon becomes clear that no one wants to win the lottery. Tessie Hutchinson seems unconcerned about the tradition until her family draws the dreaded mark. Then she protests that the process wasn't fair. The "winner," it turns out, will be stoned to death by the remaining residents. Tessie wins, and the story closes as the villagers—including her own family members—begin to throw rocks at her.

Dissonant Contrasts

The story achieves its terrifying effect primarily through Jackson's skillful use of contrasts , through which she keeps the reader's expectations at odds with the action of the story.

The picturesque setting contrasts sharply with the horrific violence of the conclusion. The story takes place on a beautiful summer day with flowers "blossoming profusely" and the grass "richly green." When the boys begin gathering stones, it seems like typical, playful behavior, and readers might imagine that everyone has gathered for something pleasant like a picnic or a parade.

Just as fine weather and family gatherings might lead us to expect something positive, so, too, does the word "lottery," which usually implies something good for the winner. Learning what the "winner" really gets is all the more horrifying because we have expected the opposite.

Like the peaceful setting, the villagers' casual attitude as they make small talk— some even cracking jokes—belies the violence to come. The narrator's perspective seems completely aligned with the villagers', so events are narrated in the same matter-of-fact, everyday manner that the villagers use.

The narrator notes, for instance, that the town is small enough that the lottery can be "through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner." The men stand around talking of ordinary concerns like "planting and rain, tractors and taxes." The lottery, like "the square dances, the teenage club, the Halloween program," is just another of the "civic activities" conducted by Mr. Summers.

Readers may find that the addition of murder makes the lottery quite different from a square dance, but the villagers and the narrator evidently do not.

Hints of Unease

If the villagers were thoroughly numb to the violence—if Jackson had misled her readers entirely about where the story was heading—I don't think "The Lottery" would still be famous. But as the story progresses, Jackson gives escalating clues to indicate that something is amiss.

Before the lottery starts, the villagers keep "their distance" from the stool with the black box on it, and they hesitate when Mr. Summers asks for help. This is not necessarily the reaction you might expect from people who are looking forward to the lottery.

It also seems somewhat unexpected that the villagers talk as if drawing the tickets is difficult work that requires a man to do it. Mr. Summers asks Janey Dunbar, "Don't you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?" And everyone praises the Watson boy for drawing for his family. "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it," says someone in the crowd.

The lottery itself is tense. People do not look around at each other. Mr. Summers and the men drawing slips of paper grin "at one another nervously and humorously."

On first reading, these details might strike the reader as odd, but they can be explained in a variety of ways -- for instance, that people are very nervous because they want to win. Yet when Tessie Hutchinson cries, "It wasn't fair!" readers realize there has been an undercurrent of tension and violence in the story all along.

What Does "The Lottery" Mean?

As with many stories, there have been countless interpretations of "The Lottery." For instance, the story has been read as a comment on World War II or as a Marxist critique of an entrenched social order . Many readers find Tessie Hutchinson to be a reference to Anne Hutchinson , who was banished from the Massachusetts Bay Colony for religious reasons. (But it's worth noting that Tessie doesn't really protest the lottery on principle—she protests only her own death sentence.)

Regardless of which interpretation you favor, "The Lottery" is, at its core, a story about the human capacity for violence, especially when that violence is couched in an appeal to tradition or social order.

Jackson's narrator tells us that "no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box." But although the villagers like to imagine that they're preserving tradition, the truth is that they remember very few details, and the box itself is not the original. Rumors swirl about songs and salutes, but no one seems to know how the tradition started or what the details should be.

The only thing that remains consistent is the violence, which gives some indication of the villagers' priorities (and perhaps all of humanity's). Jackson writes, "Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones."

One of the starkest moments in the story is when the narrator bluntly states, "A stone hit her on the side of the head." From a grammatical standpoint, the sentence is structured so that no one actually threw the stone—it's as if the stone hit Tessie of its own accord. All the villagers participate (even giving Tessie's young son some pebbles to throw), so no one individually takes responsibility for the murder. And that, to me, is Jackson's most compelling explanation of why this barbaric tradition manages to continue.

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The Lottery Analysis: Essay on Shirley Jackson’s Short Story

The lottery: analysis essay introduction, the lottery analysis, the lottery: conclusion of the essay.

Are you about to write The Lottery summary essay and looking for examples? Then check out this The Lottery analysis essay sample! Here, you’ll find information on the setting, themes, and other aspects of the story.

The Lottery by Shirley Jackson is one of the most recognized short pieces of literature in the US. First published in 1948, it quickly gained popularity due to various psychological aspects of the story. The following analysis of The Lottery is going to talk about it in detail.

The Lottery in the story is an annual event. Family members and friends randomly select a person in the city to be stoned to death. Long ago, it was to ensure that future harvests would bring a sufficient amount of food. At the time of the story, no one remembers this reason. The whole atmosphere of the ‘normality’ of such an event created by the author is very persuasive. Every person in the village is confident that this kind of practice is natural and cheerfully welcomes it.

Lottery arrangements start the night before the event. Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves draw up a list of all of the big families in town. They plan a set of lottery tickets, one per family. All of these tickets are blank except for one marked with a black dot. The slips are folded and put in a wooden box, which Mr. Summers keeps in his office.

Shirley Jackson’s short story, The Lottery, shows the many sins committed by humanity. It takes place in a remote American village. In this setting, traditions and customs dominate the local population.

‘Death’ characterizes the final destiny of all the activities described in this short story. It is viewed as a redeemer of many atrocities done against one another by individuals. The Lottery analysis essay introduces characterization methods and the setting.

Actions and the general behavior of people are among the most remarkable characterization methods. Although this book does not contain many of them, the few acts that affect the characters define it.

For example, the story introduces Mrs. Delacroix as a determined lady with a quick temper. Her action of picking a big stone expresses it. The rock is “so big that she had to pick it out in frustration with two hands ….” (Shirley 76).

Events of the story show that Jackson condemns humankind’s hypocrisy and evil nature. “They greeted each other and exchanged bits of gossip … handling each other without a flinch of sympathy …” is written in the story (Shirley 281). The reader expects the lottery to be advantageous in some way to the villagers. Nothing of value is achieved, though, in the form of such practice.

Jackson depicts horrific and terrible things done in an ordinary manner that suggests underlying human evilness. Every evil deed in the book is done in a friendly and relaxed setting. Thus, it becomes clear that humans are deceiving in their nature.

The presentation of the whole story does not look menacing until near its end. The author seems to foreshadow this threat, as illustrated by Mr. Summers, who is in charge of the lottery, and his associate Mr. Graves. In this short story, the description makes Mr. Summers seem to be a respected member of the local society. He organizes and coordinates various social events.

Mr. Summers has a modest character but a hazardous one. As Jackson (282) says, “Mr. Summers was very good at all this ….. with one hand carelessly resting on the black box, he seemed very proper and important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves and the Martins.” These practices may seem ordinary regarding village norms. For the reader, they represent a high degree of violation of human rights.

The principal characters used in the short story represent the atmosphere of the actual events. For example, the name “Summers” symbolizes the essential theme of the plot and the eventual outcome of the entire events (Marshall 3).

Additionally, the name of Mr. Summers’ friend, Mr. Graves, his assistant in lottery events, symbolizes the wickedness of ordinary villagers. So, the author uses such names to portray the idea of such absurdity.

In the short story, the lottery represents the weak and deceitful nature of humans. This act has been a practice for many years in this area. And yet, no one seems to doubt its detrimental effect on the local population. “There’s always been a lottery, and no one has been nervous about it…everyone goes on with it…” This excerpt shows how hypocritical the people in the village have become.

According to Hyman (35), despite depriving humans of their rights to life, no one expressed fear or disgust at the act. The kind of evil and lack of morality portrayed goes beyond human brutality. Everything is done in a calm and consensual manner.

Marshall (3) suggests such an atmosphere is a real reflection of how people are profoundly hypocritic and wicked. It concerns even Mrs. Hutchinson, who comes out to protest and rebel against the lottery. Unsurprisingly, she became the victim of the lottery act the same day she protested against it. Mrs. Hutchinson does not speak against the mistreatment of her fellow villagers before she is chosen to be sacrificed (Hyman 46). Such an event shows that all acts of defiance against the lottery are quickly hindered. Everything goes on as usual.

From our analysis of The Lottery, we can see the prominent theme. A person starts to oppose those “cultural norms” and laws only when they hurt them personally. In particular, despite our seemingly friendly appearance, Mrs. Hutchinson’s death marks the continuity of the eternal evil nature of humankind.

To conclude The Lottery literary analysis, the unfolding of the short story reflects how humans mistreat each other. Presumably, it happens in compliance with cultural beliefs and practices. The lottery act undermines human nature. So, individuals seem to condone such evils with less consideration for their negative impacts.

At the end of the story, the “light of hope” for liberalization represented by Mrs. Hutchinson dies. That proves the existence of the corrupt and evil nature of man. Generally speaking, the short story describes the social malpractices that society conducts toward each other as if they were ordinary occurrences.

What is the goal of The Lottery by Shirley Jackson literary analysis?

The goal of The Lottery literary analysis essay is to characterize methods and the setting. But the event of the story should not be the only focus. Another critical objective is analyzing the story in a broader context of human psychology.

How do you write a literary analysis essay on The Lottery?

Start The Lottery critical analysis by describing the book and the author’s background stories. Make sure to include every prominent character in your essay, as well as their personality traits and behaviors. Finish your literary analysis of The Lottery by concluding the main idea behind the story.

What was Shirley Jackson’s message in The Lottery?

Shirley Jackson tries to provide us with some light on the danger of following traditions blindly. In the book, the entire village meets on the town square to compete in the annual lottery of death. Nobody questions its existence, no matter how abusive and cruel it is.

Why was Mrs. Hutchinson late for the lottery?

Tessie Hutchinson arrives late to the lottery because she forgot what day it was. Other villagers cannot help but notice it and come to quick conclusions. They immediately start thinking of her as someone different and even threatening. Even her husband, Bill Hutchinson, accepts her fate.

What do the stones symbolize in The Lottery?

In The Lottery, the stones symbolize the execution method depicted in the Bible. There, people used the same things to execute the perpetrators of law and tradition. The stones show the violent capabilities of the crowd that is capable of such horrible actions.

• Hyman, Stanley. The Presentation of Evil in “The Lottery”. 2000, New Jersey: Bantam Publishing Co.
• Jackson, Shirley. The Lottery. 1948, New York: McGraw-Hill Publishers.
• Marshall, Garry. Analysis of “The Lottery” a Short Story by Shirley Jackson. 2003, New York: Lori Voth Publishers.

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Home — Essay Samples — Literature — The Lottery — Critical Analysis of a Short Story the Lottery by Shirley Jackson

Critical Analysis of a Short Story The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

• Categories: Shirley Jackson Short Story The Lottery

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Words: 1289 |

Published: Dec 3, 2020

Words: 1289 | Pages: 3 | 7 min read

Works Cited

• Jackson, S. (1948). The Lottery. The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1948/06/26/the-lottery
• Boudreau, K. (2015). Tradition and Tessie Hutchinson : Causes and Effects in Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery". Academic Exchange Quarterly, 19(4), 1-7.
• Carroll, M. (1989). On Defending "The Lottery". College English, 51(2), 156-161.
• Collopy, R. M. (2019). Tradition and Symbolism in Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery". Journal of Language and Literature Education, 7(1), 42-55.
• Franklin, R. L. (2000). Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery": The Authorized Graphic Adaptation. Hill and Wang.
• Hattenhauer, D. (2005). Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery": A Critically Annotated Bibliography. Greenwood Press.
• Kelly, J. P. (1997). Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery": The Authorized Dramatization. Dramatic Publishing.
• Oehlschlaeger, F. (1975). "The Lottery": Symbolic Tour de Force. American Literature, 46(1), 100-107.
• Parkinson, D. (2010). Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" and the Possibility of Evil. Notes on Contemporary Literature, 40(3), 9-12.
• Van Alstyne, K. (2017). “I Remember That Day”: A Critical Companion to Shirley Jackson's “The Lottery”. Routledge.

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The Lottery

By shirley jackson.

Shirley Jackson's short story The Lottery was published in 1948 and it is not in the public domain.

Accordingly, we are prohibited from presenting the full text here in our short story collection, but we can present a summary of the story, along with by some study questions, commentary, and explanations. You can also listen to the audiobook reading at the bottom of this page.

It is important to have some historical context to understand this story and the negative reaction that it generated when it appeared in the June 26, 1948 issue of The New Yorker . The setting for the story, a gathering in a small rural village, wasn't a fictional construct in America in the summer of 1948. The setting was emblematic of "small town America" and many people identified directly with the setting and the gathering depicted. It was customary at that time for rural community leaders to organize summertime gatherings to draw people together in town centers to socialize and to frequent and support some of the town's business establishments. It was thought to be good for the businesses and good for the community. These gatherings were usually organized by the city council and featured lotteries with modest cash-prizes to help lure people into their vehicles for the long drive to town. So the scene was instantly recognizable to readers -- especially rural readers -- when the story was published, and they did not like the way that this particular story developed and concluded. Many interpreted the story as an attack on the values of rural communities and "small town America." As a result, the story engendered an unanticipated avalanche of anger and criticism.

Here is a summary of the story, which will be followed by additional commentary.

On a warm summer day, villagers gather in a town square to participate in a lottery. The village is small with about 300 residents, and they are in an excited but anxious mood. We learn that this is an annual event and that some surrounding towns are thinking about abandoning the lottery. Mrs. (Tess) Hutchinson makes an undramatic entrance and chats briefly with Mrs. Delacroix, her friend.

The night before Mr. Summers, a town leader who officiates the lottery, had made paper slips listing all the families with the help of Mr. Graves (subtle name choice?). The slips were stored overnight in a safe at the coal company.

The villagers start to gather at 10 a.m. so that they may finish in time for lunch. Children busy themselves collecting stones -- one of those odd details that will later emerge loaded with meaning -- until the proceedings get underway and they are called together by their parents.

Mr. Summers works down the list of families, summoning the head man of each household. A male sixteen years or older comes forward and draws a slip of paper. When every family has a slip of paper, Mr. Summers has everyone look at the slip, and we discover that Bill Hutchinson has drawn the one slip with a black spot. It's his family that has been chosen. Mrs. Hutchinson begins to protest. With tension mounting, it becomes clear that "winning" this lottery isn't going to be what we expected, and that the "winner" isn't going to walk away with a pile of cash.

Once a family is chosen, the second round begins. In this round, each family member, no matter how old or young, must draw a slip of paper. It is Tess Hutchinson who draws the slip with the black circle. While Mrs. Hutchinson protests the unfairness of the situation, each of the villagers picks up a stone -- "And someone gave little Davy Hutchinson a few pebbles" -- and closes in on her. The story ends with Mrs. Hutchinson being stoned to death while protesting, "It isn't fair, it isn't right." The story concludes with six of the most famous closing words in short story history, "And then they were upon her."

When the story was released it engendered a very strong negative reaction and backlash that manifested itself in subscription cancellations for The New Yorker and large amounts of what could be described as "hate mail" for both the magazine and the author. Shirley Jackson and the editors at The New Yorker were both surprised by the reaction. Even Jackson's mother was critical of the work. Here is an excerpt from Jackson herself:

'It had simply never occurred to me that these millions and millions of people might be so far from being uplifted that they would sit down and write me letters I was downright scared to open; of the three-hundred-odd letters that I received that summer I can count only thirteen that spoke kindly to me, and they were mostly from friends. Even my mother scolded me: "Dad and I did not care at all for your story in The New Yorker ," she wrote sternly; "it does seem, dear, that this gloomy kind of story is what all you young people think about these days. Why don't you write something to cheer people up?"'

One literary critic described the story as "a chilling tale of conformity gone mad." Yes, that's a nice sound-bite to release in a classroom discussion, a book club gathering or a short story seminar but I honestly doubt that the letters received by Jackson in 1948 cursed her for writing a tale of 'conformity gone mad.' I do suspect that some people picked up and reacted strongly to the idea that Jackson might be suggesting that underneath the idyllic image of rural communities peopled by wholesome citizens, that there might be a sinister force waiting to be unleashed. The people in those communities certainly didn't see themselves that way. I suspect that some folks made simpler inferences about the story that they still found offensive; that the stones represented harmful gossip and insults, that these gatherings were a place where unfounded rumors could be born by chance and inflict real damage on those targeted; as gathering by gathering, a new "target" might become subject to slander earned or unearned.

Jackson kept her intended meaning to herself, believing that it would emerge more clearly with the passage of time. But considering that she was genuinely surprised by the reaction, it seems logical to conclude that she intended to make a commentary on general human nature rather than a specific criticism of rural American communities in the mid-20th century.

Personally, I think the questions of permission and participation make for a great discussion or essay about this particular short story. As small as the gathering is, it is an official event and an act of governance. The American writer and intellectual Henry David Thoreau suggested that you have a moral responsibility for your government; that when the government does something wrong -- say, handing out "free" small-pox infected blankets to Native American Indian tribes -- that it's not right to simply blame the government, because by extension that government belongs to you and acts on your behalf. So the blame belongs to you as well. That is part of the foundation for many of the ideas he advocates in his essay On Civil Disobedience .

In The Lottery , I see questions regarding the use of force: would you voluntarily participate in an annual lottery like this? Yet the people come every year. Why? I also see questions about permission and consent. Are people willing to tolerate the possibility of bad things happening in their community as long as the odds of it happening to them are low and the cost of speaking out and protesting against it might be high? What are we willing to trade-off or compromise to be part of a community? How do these questions relate to modern American culture and politics where some people -- an increasing number -- believe that some individual liberty should be sacrificed for the good of the community while others believe that individual liberty and the freedom to make personal choices is the highest consideration. That can be a difficult question for some, and they wish to answer it with a compromise: "Of course *some* individual liberty must be sacrificed." This story may be useful for removing the middle ground and raising guiding principles to the surface for consideration.

For those of you that have landed on this page looking for the secret to winning the lottery, I have a few thoughts . . .

First, good luck to you. I hope you win.

Second, there is no magic formula, and the odds of winning are extremely low. So balance your participation modestly, never spend more than you can afford. Enjoy dreaming about what you will do if you win.

Lastly, keep in mind, that no matter how often you play and lose, your worst loss is better than Tess Hutchinson's win!

Finally, here is an audiobook that will allow you to listen to the full text of The Lottery

Return to the Shirley Jackson library