Strange Bliss: Essential Stories

by Katherine Mansfield

Overview

A beguiling new selection of Katherine Mansfield's finest stories, focused on her mysterious, complex portrayals of relationships between women

Katherine Mansfield was one of the true pioneers of the short story. Her style shifts subtly between the comic and the tragic, as calm surfaces are punctured by moments of disruption, insight and strange beauty.

This new collection gathers together the best of Mansfield's work exploring different facets of relationships between women. From complex expressions of desire and connection to shared experiences of frustration and release, these stories capture fleeting movements of feeling with unmatched precision.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781782277125
Publisher:	Steerforth Press
Publication date:	07/20/2021
Series:	Essential Stories , #9
Pages:	224
Sales rank:	1,053,928
Product dimensions:	6.40(w) x 4.70(h) x 0.80(d)

About the Author

Katherine Mansfield (1888-1923) was one of the foremost writers of the 20th century. Born and raised in colonial New Zealand, she left for England at 19 and eventually settled there, often spending time in Continental Europe. Her first collection of stories, In a German Pension, appeared in 1911 and she went on to publish widely in avant-garde magazines. Diagnosed with tuberculosis in 1919, Mansfield wrote many of her most famous works while plagued with ill health. She spent her final years seeking treatment in Switzerland and France, where she died aged 34.

Read an Excerpt

Prelude
I
There was not an inch of room for Lottie and
Kezia in the buggy. When Pat swung them on top of the luggage they wobbled; the grandmother’s lap was full and Linda Burnell could not possibly have held a lump of a child on hers for any distance. Isabel, very superior, was perched beside the new handy-man on the driver’s seat. Hold-alls, bags and boxes were piled upon the floor. ‘These are absolute necessities that I will not let out of my sight for one instant,’ said Linda Burnell,
her voice trembling with fatigue and excitement.
Lottie and Kezia stood on the patch of lawn just inside the gate all ready for the fray in their coats with brass anchor buttons and little round caps with battleship ribbons. Hand in hand, they stared with round solemn eyes first at the absolute necessities and then at their mother.
‘We shall simply have to leave them. That is all. We shall simply have to cast them off,’ said Linda Burnell.
A strange little laugh flew from her lips; she leaned back against the buttoned leather cushions and shut her eyes,
her lips trembling with laughter. Happily at that moment
Mrs Samuel Josephs, who had been watching the scene from behind her drawing-room blind, waddled down the garden path.
‘Why nod leave the chudren with be for the afterdoon,
Brs Burnell? They could go on the dray with the storeban when he comes in the eveding. Those thigs on the path have to go, dod’t they?’
‘Yes, everything outside the house is supposed to go,’
said Linda Burnell, and she waved a white hand at the tables and chairs standing on their heads on the front lawn. How absurd they looked! Either they ought to be the other way up, or Lottie and Kezia ought to stand on their heads, too. And she longed to say: ‘Stand on your heads, children, and wait for the storeman.’ It seemed to her that would be so exquisitely funny that she could not attend to Mrs Samuel Josephs.
The fat creaking body leaned across the gate, and the big jelly of a face smiled. ‘Dod’t you worry, Brs Burnell.
Loddie and Kezia can have tea with by chudren in the dursery, and I’ll see theb on the dray afterwards.’
The grandmother considered. ‘Yes, it really is quite the best plan. We are very obliged to you, Mrs Samuel
Josephs. Children, say “thank you” to Mrs Samuel
Josephs.’
Two subdued chirrups: ‘Thank you, Mrs Samuel
Josephs.’
‘And be good little girls, and—come closer—’ they advanced, ‘don’t forget to tell Mrs Samuel Josephs when you want to. . . .’
‘No, granma.’
‘Dod’t worry, Brs Burnell.’
At the last moment Kezia let go Lottie’s hand and darted towards the buggy.
‘I want to kiss my granma good-bye again.’
But she was too late. The buggy rolled off up the road,
Isabel bursting with pride, her nose turned up at all the world, Linda Burnell prostrated, and the grandmother rummaging among the very curious oddments she had put in her black silk reticule at the last moment, for something to give her daughter. The buggy twinkled away in the sunlight and fine golden dust up the hill and over. Kezia bit her lip, but Lottie, carefully finding her handkerchief first, set up a wail.
‘Mother! Granma!’
Mrs Samuel Josephs, like a huge warm black silk tea cosy, enveloped her.
‘It’s all right, by dear. Be a brave child. You come and blay in the dursery!’
She put her arm round weeping Lottie and led her away. Kezia followed, making a face at Mrs Samuel
Josephs’ placket, which was undone as usual, with two long pink corset laces hanging out of it. . . .
Lottie’s weeping died down as she mounted the stairs,
but the sight of her at the nursery door with swollen eyes and a blob of a nose gave great satisfaction to the S. J.’s,
who sat on two benches before a long table covered with
American cloth and set out with immense plates of bread and dripping and two brown jugs that faintly steamed.
‘Hullo! You’ve been crying!’
‘Ooh! Your eyes have gone right in.’
‘Doesn’t her nose look funny.’
‘You’re all red-and-patchy.’
Lottie was quite a success. She felt it and swelled,
smiling timidly.
‘Go and sit by Zaidee, ducky,’ said Mrs Samuel
Josephs, ‘and Kezia, you sid ad the end by Boses.’
Moses grinned and gave her a nip as she sat down;
but she pretended not to notice. She did hate boys.
‘Which will you have?’ asked Stanley, leaning across the table very politely, and smiling at her. ‘Which will you have to begin with—strawberries and cream or bread and dripping?’
‘Strawberries and cream, please,’ said she.
‘Ah-h-h-h.’ How they all laughed and beat the table with their tea-spoons. Wasn’t that a take in! Wasn’t it now! Didn’t he fox her! Good old Stan!
‘Ma! She thought it was real.’
Even Mrs Samuel Josephs, pouring out the milk and water, could not help smiling. ‘You bustn’t tease theb on their last day,’ she wheezed.
But Kezia bit a big piece out of her bread and dripping,
and then stood the piece up on her plate. With the bite out it made a dear little sort of a gate. Pooh!
She didn’t care! A tear rolled down her cheek, but she wasn’t crying. She couldn’t have cried in front of those awful Samuel Josephs. She sat with her head bent, and as the tear dripped slowly down, she caught it with a neat little whisk of her tongue and ate it before any of them had seen.

What People are Saying About This

From the Publisher

The only writing I have ever been jealous of. — Virginia Woolf

Editorial Reviews

"One of the genuine, if frequently under-recognized, geniuses of 20th-century literature" – The Wall Street Journal on Katherine Mansfield

"A great writer and a tragic one" Irish Times

"The only writing I have ever been jealous of" Virginia Woolf

From the Publisher