2017-06-01
1 小时 12 分钟Colm Tóibín reads and discusses “In The Middle of The Fields,” by Mary Lavin.
This is the New Yorker fiction podcast from the New Yorker magazine.
I'm Deborah Treisman, fiction editor at the New Yorker.
Each month we invite a writer to choose a story from the magazine's archives to read and discuss.
This month we're going to hear in the middle of the fields by Mary Lavin, which was published in the New Yorker in June of 1961.
She'd seen something to put on her feet.
Under the table in the hall was a pair of Robert's old shoes with the fleece lining in them.
She hadn't been able to make up her mind to give them away with the rest of his clothes, and although they were big and clumsy on her, she often stuck her feet into them when she came in from the fields with mud on her shoes.
The story was chosen by Comte Holbein, who has published eleven books of fiction, including most recently, the novels the Testament of Mary Nora Webster and this year's House of Names.
Hi, Colm.
Hi, Debra.
So you mentioned that you met Mary Lavin in the seventies, maybe when you were a student?
Yeah, when I came to University College Dublin in 1972, her daughter Caroline Walsh was two years ahead of me, and I knew her.
But you would see Mary Lavin in the city.
In fact, I was sure we, perhaps even on a visit to Dublin one day would have seen her.
She's a stately figure, dressed in black with her hair tied behind her head, and she walked in a certain way, always alone, moving between certain cafes in the city.
People noticed her, people saw her.
And when I was a student, then she certainly came to the university.
She made herself absolutely free to come.
I mean, she was great at coming for any student society to read one of her stories or to talk about writing.
She'd been friends with Eudora Weldy.