This short story, written in a diary style, depicts the narrator's treatment for a 'nervous depression' (166). She is deprived of all stimulus as part of a 'rest' cure, which has been decided upon by her husband, a physician, and she is confined to one room at the top of a holiday home, which is decorated with patterned yellow wallpaper. As the diary entries progress, the narrator becomes more and more convinced that there is a woman trapped in the wallpaper trying to get out of the pattern, and decides that she must help her. The story concludes with the narrator seemingly assuming the persona of the woman she saw trapped in the wallpaper, and believing that she had freed herself by tearing the wallpaper away from the walls. 

There is an overriding sense through the story that the narrator has been imprisoned against her will in the papered room, and that the lack of stimulus is actually making her condition worse. Despite this, there is still a strong air of defiance about the narrator - most obviously in the forbidden writing of the diary which forms the narrative, but also in her freeing of the woman she saw behind the wallpaper and her continuous activities, which had been forbidden by her husband John. Why her husband should have fainted on seeing the room with all the paper removed at the end of the story is a well-debated topic, but personally I believe that it is symbolic of the power of the narrator's actions in rearranging and appropriating the space she was confined to. Despite being denied almost all stimulus, she has made sense of the limited world around her and taken control of her situation. This shows an incredible amount of resilience in the narrator, and it further allows the reader to enter into a world where people really live in the wallpaper whilst guided by a clear and seemingly coherent narrator. This short story is an enlightening read about some of the past ''cures'' for mental illness, and how women who might be seen as vulnerable, such as our narrator, could be legitimately detained by their husband or physician without their explicit consent. The narrator also remarks that she has recently had a baby, which she is glad is not in the room with her and which someone else is caring for (169), which begs the question of whether postnatal depression may have been a factor here, though whether this would have been recognised as a concept at the time is doubtful.

Reading Perkins Gilman's 'Dr. Clair's Place' (1915) shows a clear alternative to the 'rest' cure for the symptoms experienced by the narrator. The descriptions in both works are made all the more insightful in that Perkins Gilman herself had undergone the 'rest' treatment after the birth of her daughter, and so had an intimate knowledge of its workings. This short story is the tale of an extremely vulnerable woman and her mistreatment by her husband/doctor, but it also depicts extraordinary resilience, and for me ends on a note of hope, that whilst the narrator's reality might not be the same one shared by those around her, she is still has force enough to exert her will on her surroundings. The reader has no idea if the narrator will 'get well' (166) eventually, but they cannot help but be on her side. 

168 - [Of the wallpaper] 'It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough to constantly irritate and provoke study, and when you follow the lame uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide - plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard of contradictions.'

169 - 'John does not know how much I really suffer. He knows there is no reason to suffer, and that satisfies him'

171 - 'There comes John's sister. Such a dear girl as she is, and so careful of me! I must not let her find me writing.

She is a perfect and enthusiastic housekeeper, and hopes for no better profession. I verily believe she thinks it is the writing which made me sick!'

173 - John 'says no one but myself can help me out of it, that I must use my will and self-control and not let any silly fancies run away with me.

There's one comfort, the baby is well and happy, and does not have to occupy this nursery with the horrid wallpaper.'

175 - '''Bless her little heart!'' said he with a big hug, ''she shall be as sick as she pleases!'

180 - 'That was clever, for really I wasn't alone a bit! As soon as it was moonlight and that poor thing began to crawl and shake the pattern, I got up and ran to help her.'

182 - '''I've got out at last,'' said I, ''in spite of you and Jane! And I've pulled off most of the paper, so you can't put me back!''

Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right across my path by the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time!'