This book is something of a Canadian classic, often showing up on lists of Canadian books through the years. It’s a Depression-era book through and through, from the prairie setting to the drought to the bleakness of every aspect in it.
It’s written in a sort of diary form, entries dated in approximately a year of the life of a small town minister’s wife. The year they spend in a fictional town called Horizon. The minister, Philip Bentley, has been a minister in towns like this for twelve years and for twelve years he and his wife have skimped their pennies and lived amongst but not quite with the people’s of these farming communities.
Even for someone like me who grew up in the church and has known many a pastor and their families, it’s hard to fully comprehend the live of a pastor in a small community like this and in this time. This wasn’t just a job but a complete lifestyle. One that was constantly scrutinized. The minister wasn’t just the man in the pulpit on Sundays; he was expected to be a sort of moral beacon for the entire town and his wife was expected to be the same. It’s a particularly difficult role for Philip Bentley who has taken the position for the post twelve years not out of any sort of faith but simply as a job. What he has truly desired is to be a painter, an artist. But for 12 years he has lived as (he feels) a hypocrite and for these years he has withdrawn himself further and further from those around him, particularly from his wife.
It’s her perspective that we see all this through and it’s a tricky one to read as a 21st century woman. She’s the narrator but she’s not the centre of either the book or her own life. She’s not even given a name beyond Mrs. Bentley. She’s a skilled pianist and once dreamed of performing as such but gave it up to pursue Philip and be a minister’s wife. She sees him as the hero, the artist, and throughout the book is continuously crucifying herself to please him, to better his life. It’s difficult to read. She elevates him so much while the reader can see that he isn’t worthy of such respect.
All that said, the writing is very good here. The setting is wonderfully evoked with the dust of a farming town that is years into a drought. The dullness of it with flashes of beauty. Both the connection of the town to the natural world and the separation of the Bentleys from it all. At times Ross leans a little heavily on the metaphors – the falsefronts of the Main Street’s buildings being a very on-the-nose representation of the Bentley’s hypocrisy, for example. But it’s a story that I wanted to keep reading, that I wanted to understand. I just wish that this woman could have been the heroine of her own life.
Karissa Reads Books 
Prairie life was SO hard–like you, I’m fascinated by it and also always horrified by the endurance of social isolation that was expected, especially for women. It makes rapturous accounts of church picnics and barn raisings a little more comprehensible, knowing those were community events that allowed people to get together. How terribly difficult to be a minister’s wife and thus still on the outside, in some sense, during those celebrations.
Right? Imagine prairie life during the depression! I don’t want to live in Saskatchewan now let alone 100 years ago. And then the added isolation of having to sort of be set apart from the rest of the community.
I think “minister’s wife” must have been an unbearably difficult job at the time – different if you really feel called to it, or if you are living in the same place long enough to become part of the community, but in these circumstances it must have been awful.
It’s a very sad and frustrated life in the book. I’ve known several minister’s wives in my life and it’s a hard job even now (partially because it’s never officially a job but comes with so many expectations). It would have been so much harder in a time and place like this.
One of the things that I appreciate about the church I am in now is that the lead elder’s wife is a GP who has a whole life outside of being a minister’s wife – I’m sure their ministry is still a partnership but it doesn’t feel like she’s trying to be A Vicar’s Wife.
I think that can say a lot about the culture of a church too. Our pastor’s wife does a lot within the church but also has a job outside of it.
This sounds so terribly sad!
The poverty, the minister wishing another life for himself and on top of that, this wife’s identity being minimised and living in a fishbowl.
It is. It’s very bleak. And the husband and wife are so at odds with each other through most of the book that they rarely are able to find comfort or companionship even in their own home.
This does sound very bleak. I haven’t heard of this one so I didn’t realize it was one of those Canadian classics. Living on the prairies, at any time, would be a challenge, so I can’t imagine the life of those folks back then. Interesting choice for the book to be narrated by the wife, when she plays such a small role in the bigger scheme of things…
It’s another reminder of how vast and varied Canada is. This book said nothing to me about my own Canadian experience or what I see around me but I think it’s an honest portrayal of something that has existed/does exist. I can understand the choice to not have the husband as the narrator but for the wife to have such a minor role in her own life story…
Your review made me think of a conversation I had when I was still teaching at a Catholic college. It was explained to me that many men in the local community who wanted to avoid being drafted into Vietnam joined the brotherhood or priesthood. Some were gay and able to hide there. It sounds like the religious leader in your novel feels about the same way, that same sense of “it’s a job” versus being driven by a passion for Christ.
Yes, it seems similar. I feel like it’s not a choice many would make today though avoiding the draft makes a lot of sense to me.
[…] As For Me and My House – Sinclair Ross (New Canadian Library, 1971) […]