Originally published in 1974, this narrative masterpiece of late 1940s Saskatchewan, is remarkable its form. The entire work is dialogue or monologue, in which the speaker is recognized only by allusions within the prose and sometimes with difficulty. In that way it is reminiscent of radio plays, like Dylan Thomas’s Under Milk Wood (1954); unlike that play, there is not a single word of narrative commentary or authorial voice. Nevertheless, it packs a wealth of nuances and foibles packed into a single evening event. 

For readers of this database, it contains a succinct but vivid portrayal of the life and work of a country doctor in the early twentieth century—through war, influenza, the Dust Bowl depression, and small-town nastiness. It invites comparisons with the trappings of rural practice today.

We learn that Upward’s “scarlet woman,” Maisie, ran a makeshift infirmary for the doctor in her home parlor and is therefore assumed to be his mistress. Now that the new hospital puts her out of a job, the voices are divided on whether she deserves recognition for her many years of nursing the community. 

We learn, through scattered glimpses, about the upbringing of musically talented Benny, always decked out for school (and ripe for mocking) in bow tie and clean white shirt by his angry mother--angry that she was once led astray by his downtrodden father. For being fellow outcasts Benny had tried to befriend the much-bullied Nick who brushed him off, preferring solitude. Without explicit declarations we realize that Benny is gay and tormented by misplaced guilt over his mother’s possible suicide. Understanding his predicament, Doctor Hunter has tried to assuage Benny’s guilt and nudge him out of the intolerant town.  

We learn that the townsfolk suspect the doctor of “helping” many a family by forgiving debts, just as he was sometimes ruthless about claiming a calf or a chicken when he knew that having no cash did not mean poverty. They suspect and are baffled why he might have “helped” Nick to his medical education. What they seem not to suspect (but in the end we do) is that Nick is his son.  

Although Sinclair Ross became an icon of Canadian prairie writing and his stories are now classics, he worked as a banker for more than two decades and believed himself a literary failure. Shortly before his death, while severely disabled with Parkinson’s disease, he revealed his homosexuality. Benny is a veiled self-portrait.