Nonfiction
Autumn/ September 1969
Excursion
The wind off the sea is in the carib trees as I write. The pastoral, bleak, stony land of Ibiza is thirsting and unslaked to the pine woods, then the […]
Nonfiction
Spring 1968
The Mime Speaks: Marcel Marceau
He told me once that on reading Dostoevsky’s The Insulted and Injured he bawled aloud, but rereading the same passages later he was ice cold. As he talks, his face […]
Nonfiction
Spring 1967
Excursion
Synthesis falsifies—and is the only truth. It seems to me strange that this perception induced a pervading tristesse in Cocteau; but that in Picasso, the Orpheus-piper, there is a probable […]
Nonfiction
Winter 1966
Excursion
One of the least advertised pleasures of travel is the frequenting of graves … One of the most touching graves in all the world must be that of the little […]
Fiction
Winter 1965
Et tu, Neanderthal
“You may enter. The first door must be closed before the second may be opened. Air must not come in and touch the walls. Humidity.” Helen grasped, really, only the […]
Nonfiction
Winter 1968
Excursion
About twenty years before the 1800s expired, a Spanish paterfamilias was picking away in his staid, loyal manner—which sufficiently depicted his Basque character—at strata of fossil remains in a cave […]
The International Symposium on the Short Story, Part Three
Autumn/ September 1969
Spain
From the Spanish. Since I first began to write, hardly in my girlhood, I have considered the short story one of the aptest means available to a narrator. The tale […]