This essay owes a great debt to Angela Bourke’s essential biography, Maeve Brennan: Homesick at The New Yorker (Jonathan Cape, 2004) Yesterday afternoon, as I walked along Forty-second Street directly across from Bryant Park, I saw a three-cornered shadow on the pavement in the angle where two walls meet. I didn’t step on the shadow, but … Continue reading Maeve Brennan: On the Life of a Great Irish Writer, and Its Sad End