Though women have been writing great books for centuries, historically men have dominated the canon of classic literature. We are happy to report that this state of affairs has changed, and even happier to be featuring twenty-three classic works by some brilliant writers, from Lucia Berlin’s funny, affecting tale of a woman’s quirky connection to an unreliable handyman; to Zora Neale Hurston’s first published story about a young black man’s thwarted desire to leave his small Florida town; to Amy Lowell’s sensory ode, full of longing and introspection, to the vernal equinox; to Grace Paley’s indelible story about a woman, who upon bumping into her ex-husband at the library, becomes the sort of person she wants to be simply by returning her long-overdue novels. In her essay “Hours in a Library” Virginia Woolf wrote, “New books may be more stimulating and in some ways more suggestive than the old, but they do not give us that absolute certainty of delight which breathes through us when we come again [to the classics].” May that delight infuse you as you curl up with these enduring stories, poems, and essays.
Anna Akhmatova
Slepnevo, 1916
I don’t want to—can’t—struggle against it.
Lucia Berlin
B.F. and Me
B.F. was exotic to me simply because he was so dirty.
Gina Berriault
The Woman in the Rose-Colored Dress
My mother and I remained apart. My father came late.
Elizabeth Bowen
Notes on Writing a Novel
Plot must not cease to move forward.
Kay Boyle
Rest Cure
What a viper, what a felon, he was thinking.
Willa Cather
The Sentimentality of William Tavener
Hester blew out the lamp and sat still in the dark a long time.
Kate Chopin
The Awakening
For the first time in her life she stood naked in the open air.
Lucille Clifton
won’t you celebrate with me
both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself?
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
Captain Brown
We had often rejoiced that there was no gentleman to be attended to.
Zora Neale Hurston
John Redding Goes to Sea
Let me go mamma, please. What is there here for me?
Harriet Jacobs
Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl
Strange incongruity in a State called free!
Amy Lowell
Vernal Equinox
My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter.
Katherine Mansfield
Miss Brill
How fascinating it was! It was exactly like a play.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
A Redeeming Sacrifice
He’s bewitched her—darned if I can understand it.
Alice Munro
Red Dress—1946
My legs had forgotten to tremble and my hands to sweat.
Grace Paley
Wants
I wanted a sailboat, he said. But you didn’t want anything.
Katherine Anne Porter
Old Mortality
They were drawn and held by the mysterious love of the living.
Jean Stafford
An Influx of Poets
Every poet in America came to stay with us.
Marina Tsvetaeva
May 3, 1915
I like that it’s not me you pine for.
Eudora Welty
One Writer’s Beginnings
As my eyes followed the sentence, a voice was saying it silently to me.
Edith Wharton
The Dilettante
It had taken Thursdale seven years to form this fine talent.
Virginia Woolf
Hours in a Library
The great season for reading is between eighteen and twenty-four.
Constance Fenimore Woolson
Miss Grief
A year ago I was in Rome, and enjoying life particularly.