Sinclair Ross by Lorraine McMullen (review)

Reviews 75 Sinclair Ross. By Lorraine McMullen. (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1979. 159 pages, $8.95.) Sinclair Ross is a strange figure in Canadian fiction. He is the author of a western novel, As For Me and My House, an acknowledged classic, though it took many years to become established. His short fiction is also highly regarded. But his other fiction has always been, and still is, variously ignored and touted. His own enigmatic absence from the contemporary scene and the long silence between first and second novels, together with the other gaps between later novels because of his meticulous revision, have both con­ tributed to this apparent neglect. Lorraine McMullen’s critical study goes some way towards setting the record straight. Quite rightly she concentrates on his first, and still best novel, and her chapter discussing various aspects is clear and perceptive. But while she tries to establish the validity of the other novels, her critical discussions are hedged about with odd generalizations and unhelpful references to other writers, unhelpful because they are left hanging without substantiation or without a real and direct connection to Ross’s work. For instance, the comparison with the Canadian poet E. J. Pratt on the general grounds that in some of his work, like Ross, he deals with how “man faces the indifference of nature with stoicism and courage” illuminates neither author, as she pushes the comparison no further. At some points in the study she throws in references to Eliot and Dostoevski in the same unilluminating way. Her treatment of the other novels wavers between a desire to explicate the best in them and a critical acumen that tries to suggest just how flawed some of the writing is. It is difficult to grasp her stance with regard to The Well, a very contrived novel. After a chapter in which she fastens onto its flaws in conjunction with its limited successes, she closes by saying “Despite its flaws, The Well remains an intricately devised study,” which in its tone suggests that the devising of the novel is generally successful when in fact the discussion has indicated that the contrivances of the novel do not really work. Her chapter on the short stories is generally sound, though later on when she comes back to them to try to set them in a general context of all the fiction, there is a misnaming of the heroines of two stories, causing real confusion in the reader’s mind. The closing chapters are fragmentary. She tries to give an all-embracing over-view of themes and images which persist throughout Ross’s work, and while what she says is adequately correct, she has said most of it before in relation to specific works, and so the chapter merely catalogues generaliza­ tions already in the other chapters without offering any new elaborations. The author drops several hints about Ross’s interest in a new fiction. He apparently is an admirer of Marquez though McMullen does not expand on any qualities within Ross’s own writing that might be seen as a con­ 76 Western American Literature nection. She does try to expound a little on Ross’s interest in the new novel in certain French authors as a basis for his own Sawbones Memorial, but again it is a rather lean discussion. And yet the chapters on Whir of Gold and Sawbones Memorial do extend the reader’s interest beyond Ross’s undoubted first claim as a novelist, As For Me And My House, so in spite of some nagging doubts about the repetitiousness, generalizations and oddly unclear comparisons, Lorraine McMullen does at least make some kind of case for Sinclair Ross beyond the acknowledgement of his classic western novel and the short stories. PETER STEVENS, University of Windsor Sign of a Promise. By James C. Schaap. (Sioux Center, Iowa: Dordt Col­ lege Press, 1979. 262 pages, $6.95.) “Two years ago,” writes James Schaap in the Author’s Preface to Sign of a Promise, “ I stumbled on an old unkempt cemetery, miles from any main road. . . . The stones told an incredible story of children and tragic death . . . and I knew . . . that a significant, unrecorded human drama had...