= Subscribers only. Sign in here. Subscribe here.

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

1917 / May | View All Issues |

May 1917

Article

Frontispiece, 761-768, f768, 769-772 PDF

The apple-tree fleet·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.


Fiction

773-774, f774, 775-776, f776, 777-780 PDF

The home-coming·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Poetry

780 PDF

The children·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

781-794 PDF

Some Mark Twain letters·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

To William Dean Howells and others

Fiction

795-800 PDF

On duty·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

801 PDF

Prefatory note·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Collection

801-810 PDF

The harvest of the night·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

801-810 PDF

The harvest of the night·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

811-814, f814, 815-818, f818, 819-820 PDF

Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

821-826 PDF

Can democracy be efficient?·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Poetry

826 PDF

West wind·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

827-836 PDF

“To love, honor, and obey”·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

837-848 PDF

Immigrant’s luck·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

849-862 PDF

Mr. Timmons tackles life·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

In three parts (part II)

Article

863-866 PDF

Fuss and feathers·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

867-876 PDF

The edge of the ripple·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article

877-885 PDF

A confession of St. Augustine (part II)·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Fiction

886-898 PDF

The pretender·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Poetry

898 PDF

Roses in the rain·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s easy chair

899-902 PDF

Editor’s easy chair·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s easy chair

899-902 PDF

Editor’s easy chair·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s study

903-904 PDF

Editor’s study·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s study

903-904 PDF

Editor’s study·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

905-906 PDF

A prehistoric hunstman (archaeology for children)·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

905-912 PDF

Editor’s drawer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

906 PDF

Keeping a secret·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

906 PDF

Careful·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

907 PDF

An experiment·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

907 PDF

Scientific·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

907 PDF

Proved unnecessary·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

907 PDF

A scoffer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

907 PDF

Editor’s drawer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

907 PDF

A mathematician·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

907 PDF

Economy·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

908 PDF

Editor’s drawer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

908 PDF

Saw him first·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

908 PDF

A case of indigestion·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

908 PDF

A poser for the cook·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

908 PDF

True to herself·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

909 PDF

Editor’s drawer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

909 PDF

No time lost·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

909 PDF

A halt for repairs·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

909 PDF

Editor’s drawer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Cartoon

910 PDF

Untitled·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

910 PDF

Safety first·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

910 PDF

The optimist·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

910 PDF

Not important·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

910 PDF

On the wrong track·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

910 PDF

True to life·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

911 PDF

Wasted instruction·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

911 PDF

A sensible question·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

911 PDF

A pathetic inquiry·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

911 PDF

An Oriental aroma·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

911 PDF

High authority·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

911 PDF

A varied diet·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

911 PDF

A new definition·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

911 PDF

Shopping for baby·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

911 PDF

Well provided·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

911 PDF

Editor’s drawer·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

912 PDF

To let–at an early date–bachelor apartment·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

912 PDF

The ballade·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

912 PDF

Non-alcoholic·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Editor’s drawer

912 PDF

A damaged flock·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Get access to 169 years of
Harper’s for only $23.99

United States Canada

THE CURRENT ISSUE

December 2019

Gimme Shelter

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Body Language

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Trash, Rock, Destroy

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Make Way for Tomorrow

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

The Red Dot

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

view Table Content

FEATURED ON HARPERS.ORG

Article
Gimme Shelter·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

I.

That year, the year of the Ghost Ship fire, I lived in a shack. I’d found the place just as September’s Indian summer was giving way to a wet October. There was no plumbing or running water to wash my hands or brush my teeth before sleep. Electricity came from an extension cord that snaked through a yard of coyote mint and monkey flower and up into a hole I’d drilled in my floorboards. The structure was smaller than a cell at San Quentin—a tiny house or a huge coffin, depending on how you looked at it—four by eight and ten feet tall, so cramped it fit little but a mattress, my suit jackets and ties, a space heater, some novels, and the mason jar I peed in.

The exterior of my hermitage was washed the color of runny egg yolk. Two redwood French doors with plexiglass windows hung cockeyed from creaky hinges at the entrance, and a combination lock provided meager security against intruders. White beadboard capped the roof, its brim shading a front porch set on cinder blocks.

After living on the East Coast for eight years, I’d recently left New York City to take a job at an investigative reporting magazine in San Francisco. If it seems odd that I was a fully employed editor who lived in a thirty-two-square-foot shack, that’s precisely the point: my situation was evidence of how distorted the Bay Area housing market had become, the brutality inflicted upon the poor now trickling up to everyone but the super-rich. The problem was nationwide, although, as Californians tend to do, they’d taken this trend to an extreme. Across the state, a quarter of all apartment dwellers spent half of their incomes on rent. Nearly half of the country’s unsheltered homeless population lived in California, even while the state had the highest concentration of billionaires in the nation. In the Bay Area, including West Oakland, where my shack was located, the crisis was most acute. Tent cities had sprung up along the sidewalks, swarming with capitalism’s refugees. Telegraph, Mission, Market, Grant: every bridge and overpass had become someone’s roof.

Post
Perhaps the World Ends Here·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Climate disaster at Wounded Knee

Article
Body Language·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

I am eight years old, sitting in my childhood kitchen, ready to watch one of the home videos my father has made. The videotape still exists somewhere, so somewhere she still is, that girl on the screen: hair that tangles, freckles across her nose that in time will spread across one side of her forehead. A body that can throw a baseball the way her father has shown her. A body in which bones and hormones lie in wait, ready to bloom into the wide hips her mother has given her. A body that has scars: the scars over her lungs and heart from the scalpel that saved her when she was a baby, the invisible scars left by a man who touched her when she was young. A body is a record or a body is freedom or a body is a battleground. Already, at eight, she knows it to be all three.

But somebody has slipped. The school is putting on the musical South Pacific, and there are not enough roles for the girls, and she is as tall as or taller than the boys, and so they have done what is unthinkable in this striving 1980s town, in this place where the men do the driving and the women make their mouths into perfect Os to apply lipstick in the rearview. For the musical, they have made her a boy.

No, she thinks. They have allowed her to be a boy.

Article
Trash, Rock, Destroy·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

The writer and filmmaker Virginie Despentes lives in a nondescript modern building in the Belleville neighborhood of Paris. I know it well: it has a Bricorama—like a French Home Depot—on the ground floor, where we sometimes had cause to shop back when we lived in the neighborhood. The people who work there seemed to hate their jobs more than most; they were often absent from the sales floor. In the elevator to Despentes’s apartment, I marvel that while I was trying to get someone to help me find bathroom grout she was right upstairs, with her partner, Tania, a Spanish tattoo artist who goes by the name La Rata, like someone out of one of Despentes’s novels.

In an email before our meeting, Despentes asked that we not do a photo shoot. “There are so many images available already,” she explained. Much had been written about her, too. A Google search yielded page after page: profiles, interviews, reviews, bits and bobs—she read from Pasolini at a concert with Béatrice Dalle; someone accused her of plagiarizing a translation; a teacher in Switzerland was fired for teaching her work. The week I met her, she appeared in the culture magazine Les Inrockuptibles in conversation with the rapper-turned-actor JoeyStarr. The woman is simply always in the news.

Article
The Red Dot·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

That night at the window, looking out at the street full of snow, big flakes falling through the streetlight, I listened to what Anna was saying. She was speaking of a man named Karl. We both knew him as a casual acquaintance—thin and lanky like Ichabod Crane, with long hair—operating a restaurant down in the village whimsically called the Gist Mill, with wood paneling, a large painting of an old gristmill on a river on one wall, tin ceilings, and a row of teller cages from its previous life as a bank. Karl used to run along the river, starting at his apartment in town and turning back about two miles down the path. He had been going through the divorce—this was a couple of years ago, of course, Anna said—and was trying to run through his pain.

Cost of renting a giant panda from the Chinese government, per day:

$1,500

A recent earthquake in Chile was found to have shifted the city of Concepción ten feet to the west, shortened Earth’s days by 1.26 microseconds, and shifted the planet’s axis by nearly three inches.

The Chevrolet Suburban sport utility vehicle was given a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

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

HARPER’S FINEST

Jesus Plus Nothing

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

By

At Ivanwald, men learn to be leaders by loving their leaders. “They’re so busy loving us,” a brother once explained to me, “but who’s loving them?” We were. The brothers each paid $400 per month for room and board, but we were also the caretakers of The Cedars, cleaning its gutters, mowing its lawns, whacking weeds and blowing leaves and sanding. And we were called to serve on Tuesday mornings, when The Cedars hosted a regular prayer breakfast typically presided over by Ed Meese, the former attorney general. Each week the breakfast brought together a rotating group of ambassadors, businessmen, and American politicians. Three of Ivanwald’s brothers also attended, wearing crisp shirts starched just for the occasion; one would sit at the table while the other two poured coffee. 

Subscribe Today