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Annie Proulx head shot - The New Yorker

Annie Proulx

Annie Proulx’s first publication in The New Yorker, in 1997, was the story “Brokeback Mountain,” a depiction of reluctant love between two ranch hands in Wyoming in the nineteen-sixties, which inspired not only an Academy Award-winning movie but an opera, by Charles Wuorinen, for which Proulx wrote the libretto. A recipient of the Pulitzer Prize, for her 1993 novel “The Shipping News”; the National Book Award; and the Library of Congress Prize for American Fiction, among other honors, Proulx is an aficionado of the American vernacular. She has rooted much of her work in the Atlantic Northeast and in the Western states. (She has published three volumes of “Wyoming Stories”: “Close Range,” “Bad Dirt,” and “Fine Just the Way It Is.”) She allows us to hear the sometimes stubbornly inexpressive voices of the people who work the land, the cattle, the truck stops, the fishing boats, the oil rigs, the rodeos, the bars, or the old-age homes of Wyoming, Oklahoma, or Texas. Whether they inhabit the nineteenth century or the twenty-first, many of her characters fight on the front lines of a battle with nature, or defend themselves and the natural world against systems that are entirely ignorant of their existence. In Proulx’s depictions of the hardships of frontier life, there are displays of bitter irony but also moments of genuine sweetness and hard-won emotion. Through small, sometimes comic incidents, as well as through portrayals of the larger forces of culture and of history, she reminds us of the myriad lives that have been lived, lost, and forgotten in the creation and the continuity of this country.

Selected Stories

A Resolute Man

“Was it not his responsibility to save the woman who had saved him?”
Photograph by Richard Renaldi “Untitled” from the Plains   Yossi Milo Gallery

Tits-Up in a Ditch

“ ‘Way we see it,’ Bonita said to Dakotah, ‘is you ought a join the Army yourself. They take women.’ ”
An illustration of two figures in cowboy hats and a distant mountain

Brokeback Mountain

“They never talked about the sex, let it happen, at first only in the tent at night, then in the full daylight.”
SOLOMON D. BUTCHERNEBRASKA STATE HISTORICAL SOCIETY

Them Old Cowboy Songs

Travails of a homesteading couple.

All Fiction

“Freedom to Move”

“Is our boy full?” Ketevan asked. “Grandfather’s diet is very strict. No dessert, no bread. Meat to feed a bird. But our boy loves to eat. Let him enjoy himself.”

“A Children’s Story”

“I want a happy ending,” the mother says, folding up the story and setting it on her nightstand. “You don’t know how to write happy.”

“Opening Theory”

Looking over at her, he starts to smile again—revising, she thinks, the presumption of failure.

“The Drummer Boy on Independence Day”

An indispensable part of the ceremony, of course, was the Civil War veteran, and at the time I’m telling about we still had one—a Confederate, naturally.

“Kaho”

He may have been patiently waiting, for the longest time, for me to show up in front of him, she thought. Like an enormous spider waiting for its prey in the dark.

“The Hadal Zone”

Arwen’s last thought before sleep is that he is in a twisting cyclonic fall down through the ocean trench to become a compressed speck of matter. It feels good.

“Vincent’s Party”

Probably she’d get in trouble for this tomorrow, but she didn’t care; she was too full of agitated happiness. Anything could happen between now and tomorrow.

“The Buggy”

The next wave or the one after, the buggy was going to be on its side and the baby—if there was one—would be strapped in and helpless.

All Fiction

“Freedom to Move”

“Is our boy full?” Ketevan asked. “Grandfather’s diet is very strict. No dessert, no bread. Meat to feed a bird. But our boy loves to eat. Let him enjoy himself.”

“A Children’s Story”

“I want a happy ending,” the mother says, folding up the story and setting it on her nightstand. “You don’t know how to write happy.”

“Opening Theory”

Looking over at her, he starts to smile again—revising, she thinks, the presumption of failure.

“The Drummer Boy on Independence Day”

An indispensable part of the ceremony, of course, was the Civil War veteran, and at the time I’m telling about we still had one—a Confederate, naturally.

“Kaho”

He may have been patiently waiting, for the longest time, for me to show up in front of him, she thought. Like an enormous spider waiting for its prey in the dark.

“The Hadal Zone”

Arwen’s last thought before sleep is that he is in a twisting cyclonic fall down through the ocean trench to become a compressed speck of matter. It feels good.

“Vincent’s Party”

Probably she’d get in trouble for this tomorrow, but she didn’t care; she was too full of agitated happiness. Anything could happen between now and tomorrow.

“The Buggy”

The next wave or the one after, the buggy was going to be on its side and the baby—if there was one—would be strapped in and helpless.

The Day After Donald Trump’s Shooting

In Butler County, Pennsylvania, where the assassination attempt occurred, shock gave way to the conviction that Trump will be the next President.

The Day After Donald Trump’s Shooting

In Butler County, Pennsylvania, where the assassination attempt occurred, shock gave way to the conviction that Trump will be the next President.