My Mortal Enemy

by Willa Cather

Overview

Myra Driscoll had it all — dresses, jewels, a riding horse, and a Steinway piano — until she met and fell in love with Oswald Henshawe, a man her uncle, John Driscoll, hated. Despite the threat of disinheritance by Driscoll, Myra married Oswald. Nellie Birdseye, Myra’s niece, narrates the poignant journey through a failing marriage and a woman’s painful struggle with the internal conflict of its blame. This unforgettable novella, written in 1926 by Pulitzer Prize–winning author Willa Cather, offers a tragic depiction of the marriage paradox: how to reconcile youth’s romantic exuberance with growing disillusionment, bitterness, and regret.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780486850863
Publisher:	Dover Publications
Publication date:	05/17/2023
Series:	Dover Thrift Editions: Classic Novels
Pages:	64
Sales rank:	721,133
Product dimensions:	5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x (d)

About the Author

WILLA CATHER, author of twelve novels, including O Pioneers!, My Ántonia, and Death Comes for the Archbishop, was born in Virginia in 1873 but grew up in Nebraska, where many of her novels are set. She died in 1947 in New York City.

Date of Birth:

December 7, 1873

Date of Death:

April 27, 1947

Place of Birth:

Winchester, Virginia

Place of Death:

New York, New York

Education:

B.A., University of Nebraska, 1895

Table of Contents

Part One 1
Chapter One 3
Chapter Two 7
Chapter Three 00
Chapter Four 00
Chapter Five 00
Chapter Six 00
Part Two 00
Chapter One 00
Chapter Two 00
Chapter Three 00
Chapter Four 00
Chapter Five 00
Chapter Six 00
Chapter Seven 00

Editorial Reviews

"It's all very well to tell us to forgive our enemies; our enemies can never hurt us very much. But oh, what about forgiving our friends?"

"People can be lovers and enemies at the same time, you know."

"Love itself draws on a woman nearly all the bad luck in the world"

"Yes, and because we grow old we become more and more the stuff our forbears put into us. I can feel his savagery strengthen in me. We think we are so individual and so misunderstood when we are young; but the nature our strain of blood carries is inside there, waiting, like our skeleton."

― Willa Cather, My Mortal Enemy

From the Publisher