Eagle's Nest page 11

Some more significant connexion seemed to exist between them in the mysterious world of which I was newly aware; where I too was somehow concerned with them, not in my everyday self, but in that other identity outside my control, obscurely related in me.

From Eagle's Nest (1976)

It was as though I had parted company all at once with my usual reasoning self, which had withdrawn into the shadows, leaving me no means of communicating with it; while another "I" took command, functioning at a different, more mysterious level, where all outer appearances were deceptive, and even the thoughts in my head shot with ambiguity.

Chapter 1 page 9

"A Visit," from Julia and the Bazooka

One hot night a leopard came into my room and lay down on the bed beside me. I was half asleep and did not realize at first that it was a leopard. I seemed to be dreaming the sound of some large, soft-footed creature padding quietly through the house, the doors of which were wide open because of the intense heat. It was almost too dark to see the lithe, muscular shape coming into my room, treading softly on velvet paws, coming straight to the bed without hesitation, as if perfectly familiar with its position. A light spring, then warm breath on my arm, on my neck and shoulder, as the visitor sniffed me before lying down. It was not until later, when moonlight entering through the window revealed an abstract spotted design, that I recognized the form of an unusually large, handsome leopard stretched out beside me (p. 19).

Anna Kavan and the Politics of Madness by Victoria Walker

Anna Kavan and the Politics of Madness


An amazing podcast on Anna Kavan by Victoria Walker, part of the Mad, Bad and Sad: Women and the Mind Doctors, 10 October 2013 – 2 February 2014.

From the short story “A Bright Green Field” (1958)

In the midst of the deep dusk that was almost darkness, the brilliance of that small green space appeared unnatural, uncanny. I had been staring at it so long that it seemed to start vibrating, pulsating, as if, the tremendous life-surge quickening it were actually visible. […] I saw the field as always alert, continually on the watch for a momentary slackening of the effort to check its growth, only awaiting that opportunity to burst all bounds. […] It seemed monstrous, a thing that should never have been possible, for grass to possess such power. It was against all the laws of nature that grass should threaten the life of the planet. How could a plant meant to creep, to be crushed underfoot, grow so arrogant, so destructive?

Anna Kavan, A Bright Green Field, page 14/15.