Olive Schreiner

Olive Schreiner
Olive Schreiner (1855–1920) was a South African author and feminist known for her novel "The Story of an African Farm" (1883), which was one of the first works to explore feminist themes in colonial society. Born to missionary parents, she grew up in a challenging frontier environment that deeply influenced her writing. Schreiner was also a prominent social critic and political activist, advocating for women's rights, anti-imperialism, and pacifism. Her work remains significant for its progressive views on race, gender, and colonialism in the context of 19th-century South Africa.

Author's Books:


Introduction. It is necessary to say a few words to explain this book. The original title of the book was "Musings on Woman and Labour." It is, what its name implies, a collection of musings on some of the points connected with woman's work. In my early youth I began a book on Woman. I continued the work till ten years ago. It necessarily touched on most matters in which sex has a part,... more...

I. DREAM LIFE AND REAL LIFE; A LITTLE AFRICAN STORY. Little Jannita sat alone beside a milk-bush. Before her and behind her stretched the plain, covered with red sand and thorny karoo bushes; and here and there a milk-bush, looking like a bundle of pale green rods tied together. Not a tree was to be seen anywhere, except on the banks of the river, and that was far away, and the sun beat on her head.... more...

Chapter 1.I. Shadows From Child-Life. The Watch. The full African moon poured down its light from the blue sky into the wide, lonely plain. The dry, sandy earth, with its coating of stunted karoo bushes a few inches high, the low hills that skirted the plain, the milk-bushes with their long finger-like leaves, all were touched by a weird and an almost oppressive beauty as they lay in the white light.... more...

I. THE LOST JOY. All day, where the sunlight played on the sea-shore, Life sat. All day the soft wind played with her hair, and the young, young face looked out across the water. She was waiting—she was waiting; but she could not tell for what. All day the waves ran up and up on the sand, and ran back again, and the pink shells rolled. Life sat waiting; all day, with the sunlight in her eyes, she sat... more...

Chapter I. It was a dark night; a chill breath was coming from the east; not enough to disturb the blaze of Trooper Peter Halket's fire, yet enough to make it quiver. He sat alone beside it on the top of a kopje. All about was an impenetrable darkness; not a star was visible in the black curve over his head. He had been travelling with a dozen men who were taking provisions of mealies and rice to... more...