April 1, 1964
A Shorter History of the Irish People
The green going down to the sea and the gulls above—Ireland had come into view in the aftemoon. The other passengers had lined the rails for a few minutes, then […]
April 1, 1964
A Bottle of Brown Sherry
Mr. Edward came home from hospital on the second day of the second summer holidays we spent at Delaps of Monellen. That was the year old John Considine the stonemason […]
January 1, 1964
One Whole Year, and Even More
I was waiting for Iscott in the foyer of the savoy yesterday when the two of them started nattering next to me. “This one’s a Swede—we wouldn’t take an Italian […]
January 1, 1964
There
“Let me tell you something about the Busbys,” the old gentleman said to me. “The Busbys don’t wash themselves—not adequately. And especially not as they grow older.” That was how […]
January 1, 1964
The Tea Time of Stouthearted Ladies
“As I tell Kitty, this summer job of hers is really more a vacation with pay than work. What wouldn’t I give to be up there in the mountains away […]
January 1, 1964
It’s a Long Way from Central Park to Fiddlersburg
In the moment of waking, on the same bed in Fiddlersburg where, twenty years back, he had lain in the dark by Lettice Poindexter, his wife, Brad Tolliver became aware […]
October 1, 1963
To a Tenor Dying Old
A few years ago I began to see a picture in my mind’s eye, and for a long time it puzzled me because I could not tell where it came […]
October 1, 1963
Fifty-Fifty
Of love, repeat to yourself that it can only be a disaster; throw in the sponge, give up, back away—quit. Whatever you decide, you will come back to it, with […]
July 1, 1963
Wunderjude
Here I am in Heidelberg as I promised Bernie I would be. What day is it? Tuesday. I said Tuesday in the afternoon and here it is 3.00 o’clock and […]
July 1, 1963
The Broomstick on the Porch
Louella, having come all the way across the state in the Trailways bus, passed, for the first time in her life, nearly a whole day without the sight of a […]
July 1, 1963
A Shabbas-Goy
Since breaking his left arm and collarbone by falling ten yards down Squaw Peak in January 1939 (this in his fifteenth year, his sixth January in Arizona, where his mother […]
July 1, 1963
The Wrong Play
They met in the center of the stage. The overhead lights were dull green and bright yellow. The Director handed out the parts. “Mine seems thicker than usual,” Henry Wicker […]