Introduction

Introduction by the guest editor.

Qu’ont en commun Mimi Estival, Roxanne d’Avril et Georgette Mars?

Des années 1940 au milieu des années 1960, le Québec a assisté à l’essor des collections de romans populaires publiés en fascicules, écrits par des auteurs locaux et se déroulant dans La Belle Province. Signés d’une multitude de pseudonymes, ces objets sont extrêmement révélateurs du fonctionnement de l’auctorialité, sous le mode de la lecture sérielle. En s’intéressant à la collection « Roman d’amour » des Éditions Police-Journal, cet article souhaite explorer plus spécifiquement le fonctionnement du nom d’auteur en lien avec le pacte de lecture établi par le roman sentimental. --- From the 1940s to the mid-1960s, Quebec witnessed a boom in series of popular novels published in instalments, written by local authors, and set in La Belle Province. Appearing under a multitude of pseudonyms, these books tell us a great deal about the workings of authorship in the reading of serialised publications. In its examination of the series “Roman d’amour” put out by Éditions Police-Journal, this article seeks to explore in a more specific way how the author’s name functions in relation to the reading contract established by the genre of the romance novel.

“As Truthful as Our Notion of the Past Can Ever Be”:

Beginning in the mid-1980s, Alice Munro drew attention in interviews to her rapt admiration for the work of William Maxwell, a writer she has called “my favorite writer in the world.” The two were not close, although they met a few times through their shared association with the New Yorker. In 1988 Munro published an appreciation of Maxwell’s work and, after his death in 2000, agreed to revise it for a tribute volume published in 2004. During those years too, Munro was at work on a family volume she had long contemplated, The View from Castle Rock (2006), one that was inspired in part by and modelled on Maxwell’s Ancestors: A Family History (1971). This article examines the Maxwell-Munro crux as an example of the dynamics of authorship; it is an important example of two compatible writers who, throughout their careers, created narrative rooted in the very stuff of their own experience in place and time—whether seen as fiction, autobiography, or memoir. Each did so in ways that accentuate, for the critic intent on analysing authorship, the play of the past in shaping of any narrative.

Sara Jeannette Duncan’s “Canadian Editions”:

This article examines the publishing conditions and reception history of Sara Jeannette Duncan’s satirical novel Cousin Cinderella: A Canadian Girl in London (1908). It contends that Duncan’s understanding of her reading audiences, and the gendered expectations of a woman writing in the early twentieth century, allowed her to advance the novel genre in an English imperial literary market. Cousin Cinderella foregrounds the circulation of people and printed material and is interested in their reading and interpretation through the networked connections that empire engenders. Indeed, Duncan’s global mobility and her perspective on Canada as a rejuvenating racial and economic presence in an enlarged world led her to the type of generic experimentation discerned in Cousin Cinderella and to a lesser extent The Imperialist of 1904. In Cousin Cinderella, Duncan extends both novelistic romance and realism through the trope of female authorship and the novel’s allegorised character Mary Trent. Through Mary, Duncan features women in race-making and nation-making projects, where sentimental marriage functions allegorically for practical political and economic ends. And like Mary, Duncan considered herself attached to Canada, as she established success in a market dominated by male authors and metropolitan markets. This article on an understudied novel in Duncan’s oeuvre brings together a study of authorship, literary analysis, and cultural history to contextualise and elucidate Duncan’s path-breaking career.

“Unembedded, Disappeared”:

In her essays, Marlene NourbeSe Philip has been forthcoming about being “an unembedded, disappeared poet and writer in Canada” whose contributions to cultural life have been systematically obstructed, partly because of her public activism on behalf of Black communities. Her visibility is an oxymoronic, bedeviling combination of disappearance and unchosen hypervisibility, with the hypervisibility largely brought about by a radical misunderstanding and abjection of her work as a cultural activist. In this article, I examine how the “embedded, disappeared” and yet present, visible, audible literary and activist career of Marlene NourbeSe Philip challenges prevailing conceptions of authorship in Canada. In particular, I think about how and why Philip’s hypervisible invisibility offers a challenge to the regimes of visibility which tend to define literary celebrity. Any account of celebrity visibility needs to recognise the fact that the implications and consequences of visibility do not sit evenly on all public persons, as the theories of Katherine McKittrick, Jenny Burman, Sarah J. Jackson, and Toni Morrison testify. Neither is celebrity visibility the dualistic, either/or proposition so frequently framed by celebrity studies: either a much-desired good (an adoring audience) or a reviled evil, as in instances of notoriety, or in cases of overly intrusive, unwanted public attention. Instead, we need to reckon seriously with the ways visibility may be both systemically denied and reimposed as oppressive hypervisibility, as I argue it is in the celebrity of Marlene NourbeSe Philip and, by extension, in that of many racialised public figures.

Writing Back against Canada’s Fictive Ethnicity:

The period after E. Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake)’s literary career ended and before the emergence of contemporary Indigenous writing in Canada, roughly between 1910 and 1960, has been labelled as a “barren period” for Indigenous authorship. The relative failure by Indigenous Peoples in this period to garner publishers or attract wide readerships, however, had more to do with the political and social environment of Canada at the time, than either an ability (or inability) to write material of value. Bernice Winslow Loft (Dawendine) (1902-1997) and Ethel Brant Monture (1892-1977), in the face of considerable challenges to have their voices heard, demonstrate that the period after Johnson’s death was not entirely void of Indigenous authorship. Loft and Monture are among a small body of Indigenous authors during this period who, through persistence and performance, left their marks on the stages and pages of settler Canadian libraries and bookshelves.

Picturing E. Pauline Johnson / Tekahionwake:

Illustrations—both drawings and photographs—appeared in most books by E. Pauline Johnson (1861-1913), Canada’s first prominent Indigenous author, from their first publication in the early twentieth century through various reprints and editions into the twenty-first. This article examines the evolution of these images as we address the choices made by her publishers with regard to moments and modes of illustration, with special attention to her two most popular volumes, Legends of Vancouver (1911) and Flint and Feather (1912). Focusing on the interior illustrations that were read along with the texts, we consider how these drawings and photographs contributed to the construction of Johnson as an Indigenous author and to the interpretation of her stories and poems by those who prepared her books, given that her publications were directed to a mainly non-Indigenous readership.

William Edward Daniel Ross’s Transformation into a Popular Fiction Novelist, 1962-1967

William Edward Daniel Ross transformed himself into a popular fiction novelist in mid-life; the years between 1962 and 1967 witnessing his authorial advance from apprentice to journeyman. During this period, he produced at least 85 original novels, which appeared in the United States or the United Kingdom in hardback, paperback, or digest format. By 1966, Ross’s rapid production identified him as a “literary factory” within the trade. As a “professional writer,” he responded to the market needs of publishers, which led him to produce novels in multiple genres, including mysteries, westerns, nurse romances, and gothics. The majority of his novels appeared under pseudonyms, most of them feminine; as Ross recognised, this circumstance obscured his claims to authorship, leading to his early designation as “Canada’s best-known unknown author.” A substantial collection of Ross’s professional papers held at Boston University represents an invaluable resource into this author’s early years as a novelist, and into the trans-Atlantic popular fiction market for which he wrote. In combination with newspaper and magazine articles episodically published about him, this resource reveals an author who, between 1962 and 1967, established himself with publishers as a reliable creator of popular fiction. Ross brokered key business relationships with several hardback publishers producing popular fiction for the commercial lending libraries, as well as half a dozen paperback firms. Ross’s remarkable level of production relied on key “support personnel”: his wife Marilyn Ross facilitated his writing daily while New York-based literary agents Robert Mills and Donald MacCampbell offered strategic guidance.

“That city, that self”:

This article traces a historical trajectory of the city poet in Canada—a writer whose “street-level perspective” defines their methods and shapes their authorial personae—from the nineteenth-century through to the twenty-first. It first provides a brief exploration of some of the literature published in the Toronto Evening Telegram newspaper in the 1880s and 1890s to consider the origins of a literary tradition and an authorial persona rooted in the city. This part of the article uses the example of Robert Kirkland Kernighan to show the way early writers exploited the opportunity provided by city newspapers and the city itself to map and define themselves in artistic and professional terms. The article goes on to consider the work of contemporary city writers like Bren Simmers, who continue mapping themselves onto the street in sometimes deeply personal and increasingly unsettled ways. At base, the article argues that by extending critical discussions of urban writing back to its nineteenth-century roots, we can better understand how the city works as a unique marketplace for literature and a unique cultural economy through which literature circulates, but also as a unique context for the creation of authorial identity.

“A Fine, Sunshiny Night":

The Third Franklin Expedition of the British Royal Navy set sail in 1845 in search of the Northwest Passage. There were no survivors of the expedition, and nearly all records associated with it were lost. This personal and textual disappearance severed the narrative control of those who participated in the expedition and sought to write about their experiences. This article examines the authorship and the authorial afterlife of Captain James Fitzjames, an officer of the Third Franklin Expedition, with an emphasis on the ways in which Fitzjames’ legacy has been contextualized and recontextualized across time, discourse, and format.