= Subscribers only. Sign in here. Subscribe here.

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

1914 / September | View All Issues |

September 1914

Fiction

488, 553-558, f558, 559-565 PDF

The turmoil·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

A novel (chaps. VI-VIII)


Article

489-497 PDF

The romantic voyage of Polly Jefferson·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

498-500, f500, 501-507 PDF

Miss Clara’s Perseus (a story in two parts–I)·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

508-521 PDF

Booked through·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

522-527 PDF

Ranny discovers America·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

528-535 PDF

Her own life·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

536-546, f546, 547 PDF

American holidays·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Springs and mountains

Fiction

548-552 PDF

Denis·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Poetry

565 PDF

Exile·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

566-574 PDF

Positive electricity·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

575-587 PDF

Gallant age·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

588, f588, 589-590, f590, 591-592 PDF

A rebellious grandmother·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

593-603 PDF

In an old-time state capital (first paper)·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

604-614 PDF

George’s client·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

615-622 PDF

New Americans·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

623-633 PDF

Settling Ophelia·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s easy chair

634-637 PDF

Editor’s easy chair·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s easy chair

634-637 PDF

Editor’s easy chair·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s study

638-640 PDF

Editor’s study·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s study

638-640 PDF

Editor’s study·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

641-644 PDF

Buying theater tickets (a monologue)·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

641-648 PDF

Editor’s drawer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

644 PDF

Li’l’ sompfin·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

645 PDF

Editor’s drawer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

645 PDF

Then he turned around·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

645 PDF

Nine points of the law·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

645 PDF

The coonskin cap·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

645 PDF

Hibernian·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

646 PDF

The first laugh was the last·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

646 PDF

Forewarned·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

646 PDF

Of course she knew·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

646 PDF

Editor’s drawer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

647 PDF

He went·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

647 PDF

Didn’t like the sign·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

647 PDF

No great feat·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

647 PDF

The opening of the canal·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

647 PDF

A family affair·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

647 PDF

Not a bath robe·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

648 PDF

A slight mistake·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

648 PDF

A diplomatic rebuke·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

648 PDF

Practising·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

648 PDF

Editor’s drawer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Get access to 165 years of
Harper’s for only $45.99

United States Canada

THE CURRENT ISSUE

January 2017

The Monument Wars

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

The Trouble with Defectors

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Over the River

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

House Hunters Transnational

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

The Lords of Lambeau

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

A Window To The World

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

view Table Content

FEATURED ON HARPERS.ORG

Post
Illustration (detail) by Lincoln Agnew
Article
Over the River·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Ashley arrived for her prenatal appointment at Black Hills Obstetrics and Gynecology, in Rapid City, South Dakota, wearing a black zip-up hoodie and Converse sneakers.1 To explain her absence from work that morning — a Tuesday in April 2015 — she had told a co-worker that she was having “female issues.” She was twenty-five years old and eight weeks pregnant. She had been separated from her husband, with whom she had a five-year-old son, for the better part of a year. The guy who’d gotten her pregnant was someone she’d met at the gym, and he’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. Ashley found herself hoping that the doctor would discover some kind of fetal defect, so that her decision would be easier. She glanced across the waiting room at a television playing a birth-control ad and laughed darkly. “Jesus, Lord, it would be so nice if someone just pushed me down a flight of stairs.”

In the exam room, she perched on the table with her feet crossed at the ankles, her blond hair brushing the back of her pink hospital gown. “I don’t know what’s available for me here,” she told her doctor, Katherine Degen, who sat facing her on a stool. “I figured nothing.”

 Some names and identifying details have been changed. 

“Big, fat zero, unfortunately,” Degen said, making a 0 with her fingers. The last doctor who provided abortions in Rapid City retired in 1986, three years before Ashley was born.

The baby was due in November, when Ashley, who was a nurse, hoped to be enrolled in a graduate program to become a nurse practitioner. Getting pregnant as a teenager had forced her to put that dream on hold, but she had thought that she was finally ready; she had even submitted her application shortly before the March 15 deadline. For the first time in her adult life, Ashley felt as if her plans were coming together. Then she missed her period.

It would be too difficult to attend school as a single mother of two, Ashley knew. She had made an appointment for three weeks from now at the nearest abortion clinic, in Billings, Montana, 318 miles away. But just a week and a half ago, her husband had said he wanted to get back together and offered to raise the child as his own. Was it a sign that she was meant to continue the pregnancy? As a rule, Ashley approached her problems with resolve. She was capable and tough; she liked shooting guns and lifting weights. She kept track of her stats and checked off her goals as she achieved them one by one. Yet the dilemma before her had shaken her confidence. She leaned back and turned to watch the ultrasound screen. The black-and-white image danced. A sharp, fast thumping emerged from the machine. As Degen removed the wand, Ashley wiped the corner of her eye.

Photograph (detail) by Brian Frank
Article
A Window To The World·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Ashley arrived for her prenatal appointment at Black Hills Obstetrics and Gynecology, in Rapid City, South Dakota, wearing a black zip-up hoodie and Converse sneakers.1 To explain her absence from work that morning — a Tuesday in April 2015 — she had told a co-worker that she was having “female issues.” She was twenty-five years old and eight weeks pregnant. She had been separated from her husband, with whom she had a five-year-old son, for the better part of a year. The guy who’d gotten her pregnant was someone she’d met at the gym, and he’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. Ashley found herself hoping that the doctor would discover some kind of fetal defect, so that her decision would be easier. She glanced across the waiting room at a television playing a birth-control ad and laughed darkly. “Jesus, Lord, it would be so nice if someone just pushed me down a flight of stairs.”

In the exam room, she perched on the table with her feet crossed at the ankles, her blond hair brushing the back of her pink hospital gown. “I don’t know what’s available for me here,” she told her doctor, Katherine Degen, who sat facing her on a stool. “I figured nothing.”

 Some names and identifying details have been changed. 

“Big, fat zero, unfortunately,” Degen said, making a 0 with her fingers. The last doctor who provided abortions in Rapid City retired in 1986, three years before Ashley was born.

The baby was due in November, when Ashley, who was a nurse, hoped to be enrolled in a graduate program to become a nurse practitioner. Getting pregnant as a teenager had forced her to put that dream on hold, but she had thought that she was finally ready; she had even submitted her application shortly before the March 15 deadline. For the first time in her adult life, Ashley felt as if her plans were coming together. Then she missed her period.

It would be too difficult to attend school as a single mother of two, Ashley knew. She had made an appointment for three weeks from now at the nearest abortion clinic, in Billings, Montana, 318 miles away. But just a week and a half ago, her husband had said he wanted to get back together and offered to raise the child as his own. Was it a sign that she was meant to continue the pregnancy? As a rule, Ashley approached her problems with resolve. She was capable and tough; she liked shooting guns and lifting weights. She kept track of her stats and checked off her goals as she achieved them one by one. Yet the dilemma before her had shaken her confidence. She leaned back and turned to watch the ultrasound screen. The black-and-white image danced. A sharp, fast thumping emerged from the machine. As Degen removed the wand, Ashley wiped the corner of her eye.

Artwork by Imre Kinszki © Imre Kinszki Estate
Article
The Lords of Lambeau·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Ashley arrived for her prenatal appointment at Black Hills Obstetrics and Gynecology, in Rapid City, South Dakota, wearing a black zip-up hoodie and Converse sneakers.1 To explain her absence from work that morning — a Tuesday in April 2015 — she had told a co-worker that she was having “female issues.” She was twenty-five years old and eight weeks pregnant. She had been separated from her husband, with whom she had a five-year-old son, for the better part of a year. The guy who’d gotten her pregnant was someone she’d met at the gym, and he’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. Ashley found herself hoping that the doctor would discover some kind of fetal defect, so that her decision would be easier. She glanced across the waiting room at a television playing a birth-control ad and laughed darkly. “Jesus, Lord, it would be so nice if someone just pushed me down a flight of stairs.”

In the exam room, she perched on the table with her feet crossed at the ankles, her blond hair brushing the back of her pink hospital gown. “I don’t know what’s available for me here,” she told her doctor, Katherine Degen, who sat facing her on a stool. “I figured nothing.”

 Some names and identifying details have been changed. 

“Big, fat zero, unfortunately,” Degen said, making a 0 with her fingers. The last doctor who provided abortions in Rapid City retired in 1986, three years before Ashley was born.

The baby was due in November, when Ashley, who was a nurse, hoped to be enrolled in a graduate program to become a nurse practitioner. Getting pregnant as a teenager had forced her to put that dream on hold, but she had thought that she was finally ready; she had even submitted her application shortly before the March 15 deadline. For the first time in her adult life, Ashley felt as if her plans were coming together. Then she missed her period.

It would be too difficult to attend school as a single mother of two, Ashley knew. She had made an appointment for three weeks from now at the nearest abortion clinic, in Billings, Montana, 318 miles away. But just a week and a half ago, her husband had said he wanted to get back together and offered to raise the child as his own. Was it a sign that she was meant to continue the pregnancy? As a rule, Ashley approached her problems with resolve. She was capable and tough; she liked shooting guns and lifting weights. She kept track of her stats and checked off her goals as she achieved them one by one. Yet the dilemma before her had shaken her confidence. She leaned back and turned to watch the ultrasound screen. The black-and-white image danced. A sharp, fast thumping emerged from the machine. As Degen removed the wand, Ashley wiped the corner of her eye.

Photograph (detail) by Balazs Gardi
Article
With Child·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

"She glanced across the waiting room at a television playing a birth-control ad and laughed darkly. 'Jesus, Lord, it would be so nice if someone just pushed me down a flight of stairs.'"
Photograph (detail) by Lara Shipley

Tons of hair Poland exports annually to West Germany in exchange for barber equipment:

100

Alcoholic mice who are forced to stop drinking no longer try to swim when placed in a beaker of water, perhaps indicating that the mice are depressed.

One of the United Kingdom’s largest landlords published guidelines banning “battered wives” and plumbers, among others, from renting his more than 1,000 properties. “It’s just economics,” he said.

Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!

HARPER’S FINEST

Who Goes Nazi?

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

By

"It is an interesting and somewhat macabre parlor game to play at a large gathering of one’s acquaintances: to speculate who in a showdown would go Nazi. By now, I think I know. I have gone through the experience many times—in Germany, in Austria, and in France. I have come to know the types: the born Nazis, the Nazis whom democracy itself has created, the certain-to-be fellow-travelers. And I also know those who never, under any conceivable circumstances, would become Nazis."

Subscribe Today