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This volume gathers together authors and critics to reappraise the legacy of Sinclair Ross. Beyond Ross' major novel As For Me and My House, the contributors reestablish the value of his other writings in their literary and historical contexts. Published in English.
Post-Colonial Literatures in English, together with English Literature and American Literature, form one of the three major groupings of literature in English, and, as such, are widely studied around the world. Their significance derives from the richness and variety of experience which they reflect. In three volumes, this Encyclopedia documents the history and development of this body of work and includes original research relating to the literatures of some 50 countries and territories. In more than 1,600 entries written by more than 600 internationally recognized scholars, it explores the effect of the colonial and post-colonial experience on literatures in English worldwide.
This unique exchange of letters between literary icon Sinclair Ross and several prominent writers, publishers, agents, and editors asks why many Canadian artists, especially those in western provinces, spent a lifetime struggling for recognition and remuneration. Featuring exchanges with Earle Birney, Margaret Laurence, and Margaret Atwood, among others, this collection exposes the conditions of cultural work in Canada for much of the twentieth century. This vivid, often moving, selection of professional and personal letters, plus the only formal interview Ross ever gave, provides a valuable resource for those engaged with the history of publishing in Canada, as well as for those with an interest in Canadian literature.
Sinclair Ross (1908-1996), best known for his canonical novel As for Me and My House (1941), and for such familiar short stories as "The Lamp at Noon" and "The Painted Door," is an elusive figure in Canadian literature. A master at portraying the hardships and harsh beauty of the Prairies during the Great Depression, Ross nevertheless received only modest attention from the public during his lifetime. His reluctance to give readings or interviews further contributed to this faint public perception of the man. In As for Sinclair Ross, David Stouck tells the story of a lonely childhood in rural Saskatchewan, of a long and unrewarding career in a bank, and of many failed attempts to be published and to find an audience. The book also tells the story of a man who fell in love with both men and women and who wrote from a position outside any single definition of gender and sexuality. Stouck's biography draws on archival records and on insights gathered during an acquaintance late in Ross's life to illuminate this difficult author, describing in detail the struggles of a gifted artist living in an inhospitable time and place. Stouck argues that when Ross was writing about prairie farmers and small towns, he wanted his readers to see the kind of society they were creating, to feel uncomfortable with religion as coercive rhetoric, prejudices based on race and ethnicity, and rigid notions of gender. As for Sinclair Ross is the story of a remarkable writer whose works continue to challenge us and are rightly considered classics of Canadian literature.
Everyone knows Rumpelstiltskin’s story—or thinks they do. But this innocent-seeming tale hides generations of women’s shrewd accounts of their relationships with men. And the verdict is not flattering. The fairytale may count among the world’s oldest dirty jokes. The theme of the tale, an observation repeated and varied throughout, mocks male inadequacy in many forms, beginning with sexual failure. The punchline misplaced, over time its wickedly funny insights about adult life passed for childish nonsense. The story hides, in plain sight, criticism of workplace sexual harassment—centuries before society took notice of the indignity. Rumpelstiltskin tells a feminist tale with lessons for men and women, about what women said to each other when they thought their private conversation and complaints passed unnoticed. In the story’s different versions, the Brothers Grimm, who recorded the tale, missed women’s wry observations.
