Doris Lessing’s “A Mild Attack of Locusts”

From The New Yorker's archive: the Nobel Prize-winning author's first short story published in the magazine.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌   View in browser | Update your preferences     Fiction "A Mild Attack of Locusts" "It looked as if every tree, every bush, all the earth, were lit with pale flames." By Doris Lessing In 2007, the British-Zimbabwean novelist Doris Lessing became, at age eighty-eight, the eldest writer to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. In the course of her long and prolific career, Lessing contributed multiple works of fiction to The New Yorker, as well as an engrossing Reporter at Large, in 1987, about the poor treatment of Afghan refugees in Pakistan. In 1955, seven years before the publication of her groundbreaking masterpiece, "The Golden Notebook," Lessing wrote "A Mild Attack of Locusts," her first short story in the magazine, about a family of farmers residing by the Zambezi River. Lessing herself grew up on a farm in what was then Southern Rhodesia, and much of her work—more than fifty books, including "The Fifth Child" and "African Stories"—explores the perils of sexism and the racist legacy of colonialism. In her New Yorker début, Lessing describes the family's attempt to save their crop from a swarm of locusts. The insects, when they finally arrive, are as numerous as they are merciless. "The air was darkening—a strange darkness, for the sun was blazing. It was like the darkness of a veldt fire, when the air gets thick with smoke and the sunlight comes down distorted—a thick, hot orange," she writes. "It was oppressive, too, with the heaviness of a storm." As the swarm approaches, the protagonist, Margaret, a farmer's wife, slowly unravels. Lessing weaves a tale of man (and woman) fighting against nature, and nature's inevitable, unsparing response. It's a portrait of harsh beauty layered upon an equally vivid depiction of the provincialism of mid-century colonial farming life. As the tale reaches its conclusion, Lessing delivers a compelling vignette about the inexorable rhythms of rural existence and the impacability of nature itself.   —Erin Overbey, archive editor More from the Archive     Books Memoir of a Revolutionary From 1997: Doris Lessing looks back on bad politics and worse men. By Claudia Roth Pierpont     Profiles The Real Life of Edward St. Aubyn From 2014: Writing saved St. Aubyn's life. Years of psychoanalysis, and the controlled fiction that followed, deferred the threat of suicide. By Ian Parker You're receiving this e-mail because you signed up for the New Yorker Classics newsletter. Was this e-mail forwarded to you? Sign up.   Unsubscribe | Manage your e-mail preferences | Send newsletter feedback | View our privacy policy    Copyright © Condé Nast 2021. One World Trade Center, New York, NY 10007. All rights reserved.