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Muriel Spark: The Public Image
She found a job for Billy in Rome, teaching voice-production to English student-priests in a seminary, for she wanted to go there with her baby boy, and she wanted Frederick to be with her. She did not want to change her public image just yet. Frederick looked at her as she suckled the baby and […]
Muriel Spark: Memento Mori
If I had my life over again I should form the habit of nightly composing myself to thoughts of death. I would practise, as it were, the remembrance of death. There is no other practise which so intensifies life. Death, when it approaches, ought not to take one by surprise. It should be part of […]
Muriel Spark: The Mandelbaum Gate
For the first time since her arrival in the Middle East she felt all of a piece; Gentile and Jewess, Vaughan and Aaronson; she had caught some of Freddy’s madness, having recognized by his manner in the car, as they careered across Jerusalem, that he had regained some lost or forgotten element in his nature […]
Muriel Spark: The Complete Short Stories
I do not know how many afternoons I lay on my bed listening to a litany of tennis noises from where my two brothers played on the court a little to the right below my window. Sometimes, to tell me it was time to get up, my elder brother Richard would send a tennis ball […]
Muriel Spark: The Driver's Seat
She will be found tomorrow morning dead from multiple stab-wounds, her wrists bound with a silk scarf and her ankles bound with a man’s necktie, in the grounds of an empty villa, in a park of the foreign city to which she is traveling on the flight now boarding at Gate 14. Crossing the tarmac […]
Muriel Spark: The Bachelors
Daylight was appearing over London, the great city of bachelors. Half-pint bottles of milk began to be stood on the doorsteps of houses containing single apartments from Hampstead Heath to Greenwich Park, and from Wanstead Flats to Putney Heath; but especially in Hampstead, especially in Kensington. In Queen’s Gate, Kensington, in Harrington Road, The Boltons, […]
Muriel Spark: Curriculum Vitae: A Volume of Autobiography
That ring at the door that I loved so much would bring, in the afternoon, my mother’s friends or, on rare occasions, my married aunts. In the evening a much more exciting variety of family friends rang the bell, many of them fairly eccentric, in whom I took a deep interest. Only a few months […]
Muriel Spark: Territorial Rights | Naistenviikkohaaste 2021
He was taken to the Pensione Sofia through the sunny waters of palaces, domes and ferries. It was his first visit to Venice and he was young; but he had only half a mind to feel enchanted, the other half being still occupied with a personal anxiety in Paris from where he had just come. […]
Muriel Spark: A Far Cry from Kensington
I used to spend my coffee-break and my tea-time with Connie, sometimes in her office, sometimes in mine. My job was to collect from her those few new manuscripts that had a faint possibility of being shaped into a book for publication, or whose authors should perhaps be nurtured. It was a very tentative affair, […]
Muriel Spark: The Comforters
Caroline was quickly asleep. And even as she slept, she felt herself appreciating her sleep; told herself, this was the best sleep she had had for six months. She told herself to sleep on, for she would wake up presently, and then she would mean business. At this point in the narrative, it might be […]
Muriel Spark: Loitering with Intent | Naistenviikkohaaste 2019
Now the story of Warrender Chase was in reality already formed, and by no means influenced by the affairs of the Autobiographical Association. But the interesting thing was, it seemed rather the reverse to me at the time. At the time; but thinking it over now, how could that have been? And yet, it was […]
Muriel Spark: The Girls of Slender Means | Naistenviikkohaaste 2019
From the lower-floor dormitories the people in the street looked larger, and the paths of the park were visible. All the nice people were poor, and few were nicer, as nice people come, than these girls at Kensington who glanced out of the windows in the early mornings to see what the day looked like, […]
Muriel Spark: The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie | Klassikkohaaste 8
These girls formed the Brodie set. That was what they had been called even before the headmistress had given them the name, in scorn, when they had moved from the Junior to the Senior school at the age of twelve. At that time they had been immediately recognisable as Miss Brodie’s pupils, being vastly informed […]
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