SIGN IN to access Harper’s Magazine
1. Sign in to Customer Care using your account number or postal address.
2. Select Email/Password Information.
3. Enter your new information and click on Save My Changes.
Subscribers can find additional help here. Not a subscriber? Subscribe today!
Annie Dillard was a contributing editor to Harper’s Magazine from 1973 to 1985, with a brief hiatus in 1982.
Dillard’s first contribution to Harper’s was sent to the editors as an unsolicited manuscript. “Monster in a Mason Jar: The lethal liturgy of the praying mantis” (August 1973) was the first of four excerpts from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (1974) to appear in the magazine. The book was published by Harper’s Magazine Press in 1974, when Dillard was twenty-nine, and won the Pulitzer Prize for General Nonfiction in the same year. “Pilgrim is really a book of theology,” Dillard told an editor at the magazine in 1974. “It’s the result of one year’s walking around and thinking about what kind of god gave us this kind of world. I decided that it must have been a very carefree, exuberant one, saying ‘Here, have a tulip! Have a beetle! Have another beetle!’”
Dillard’s first book was the poetry collection Tickets for a Prayer Wheel (1974). Among her nonfiction works are Living by Fiction (1982); Teaching a Stone to Talk (1982); An American Childhood (1987), which was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award; and For the Time Being (1999), an excerpt of which appeared in the January 1988 issue of the magazine. Dillard also wrote two novels: The Living (1992), excerpts of which were published in the November 1978 and August 1991 issues, and The Maytrees (2007), which was a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction.
Dillard taught at Wesleyan University from 1979 to 2000. She serves on the usage panel of the American Heritage Dictionary, and paints.
Taking our century’s measure
On a Friday evening in January, a thousand people at the annual California Native Plant Society conference in San Jose settled down to a banquet and a keynote speech delivered by an environmental historian named Jared Farmer. His chosen topic was the eucalyptus tree and its role in California’s ecology and history. The address did not go well. Eucalyptus is not a native plant but a Victorian import from Australia. In the eyes of those gathered at the San Jose DoubleTree, it qualified as “invasive,” “exotic,” “alien” — all dirty words to this crowd, who were therefore convinced that the tree was dangerously combustible, unfriendly to birds, and excessively greedy in competing for water with honest native species.
In his speech, Farmer dutifully highlighted these ugly attributes, but also quoted a few more positive remarks made by others over the years. This was a reckless move. A reference to the tree as “indigenously Californian” elicited an abusive roar, as did an observation that without the aromatic import, the state would be like a “home without its mother.” Thereafter, the mild-mannered speaker was continually interrupted by boos, groans, and exasperated gasps. Only when he mentioned the longhorn beetle, a species imported (illegally) from Australia during the 1990s with the specific aim of killing the eucalyptus, did he earn a resounding cheer.
Percentage of Britons who cannot name the city that provides the setting for the musical Chicago:
An Australian entrepreneur was selling oysters raised in tanks laced with Viagra.
A tourism company in Australia announced a service that will allow users to take the “world’s biggest selfies,” and a Texas man accidentally killed himself while trying to pose for a selfie with a handgun.
Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!
“Shelby is waiting for something. He himself does not know what it is. When it comes he will either go back into the world from which he came, or sink out of sight in the morass of alcoholism or despair that has engulfed other vagrants.”