Women’s Classics


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.


To read more Classics:

Narrative Classics