From Library Journal
The life of Glenway Wescott (1901-87) spanned an interesting range of eras, from 1920s Paris, where he was acquainted with Hemingway (who despised him for his homosexuality), Fitzgerald, and Stein; through the world wars; to 1950s and 1960s New York, where a sexual revolution was taking place. There he found himself in the middle of a remarkable group of gay artists, including Christopher Isherwood, W.H. Auden, and E.M. Forster. Though Wescott is best known in modern American literature courses for the lyric 1927 novel The Grandmothers and the novella The Pilgrim Hawk, Rosco, who coedited a volume of Wescott's journals (Continental Lessons), focuses on the way this Wisconsin farm boy came to terms with his sexuality in a world still governed by a strict Victorian code of conduct. Although he learned early to be a master storyteller largely from the example of his friend W. Somerset Maugham he was unable to complete a novel after the age of 45. His energy was channeled into other interests, among them Museum of Modern Art curator Monroe Wheeler, with whom he fashioned a lifelong and stabilizing relationship, and Alfred E. Kinsey, in whose work on American sexuality he became immersed in the 1950s. More than a biography of an unjustly ignored American writer, Rosco's work portrays a fascinating panorama of the evolution of America's gay artistic community. Recommended for libraries with holdings in gay studies. Charles C. Nash, Cottey Coll., Nevada, MO
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Wescott (1901-87), born a Wisconsin farm boy but destined to live a cosmopolitan literary life, loved language so much he not only devoted himself to reading and writing but also to speaking well, and he's remembered as much for being a splendid conversationalist and lecturer as he is for his few indelible novels, masterful essays, and celebrated journals. Wescott is also cherished for his candor about his homosexuality in overtly homophobic times. Rosco, who knew Wescott, answers the big question about his subject's infamous writer's block by explaining that Wescott never stopped writing; he just lost the feel for fiction and had a curious aversion to being published. "Happiness was his real distraction," Rosco writes, detailing Wescott's complex and sustained relationship with curator Monroe Wheeler, a string of complementary involvements, friendships with a veritable writers' who's who, and, in the book's most dramatic revelations, his close association with sex researcher Alfred Kinsey. Fluently anecdotal and analytical, Rosco's engrossing biography of this seminal man of letters neatly fills a gap in literary and gay history.
Donna SeamanCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved