"I waited and worked, and watched the inferior exalted for nearly thirty years; and when recognition came at last, it was too late to alter events, or to make a difference in living"
About this Quote
The sentence lands like a quiet indictment of the culture of prizes: not just that merit goes unrewarded, but that the timing of reward is its own form of cruelty. Glasgow compresses a whole career’s emotional weather into a single rhythm of verbs: "waited and worked, and watched". The first two suggest discipline and faith in the long game; the third turns the knife. Watching "the inferior exalted" is not simple bitterness. It’s a diagnosis of a literary marketplace that confuses visibility with value, trend with talent, and proximity to power with achievement.
The subtext is gendered even when it isn’t explicitly feminist. Glasgow wrote in an era when women could publish but were still treated as minor, regional, or "domestic" artists, while the canon-making machinery (editors, critics, institutions) lionized men and movements that fit the story it wanted to tell about modern American literature. Her phrasing carries the sting of being present for your own erasure: she didn’t fail to enter the room; she had to stand there and watch the applause go elsewhere.
Then comes the bleak twist: recognition arrives "at last", yet is "too late". Glasgow refuses the tidy narrative of perseverance rewarded. Late acclaim can’t "alter events" because art isn’t only legacy; it’s livelihood, health, confidence, and the practical freedom to choose your work. The line reads less like a complaint than a warning: a culture that postpones justice until it’s symbolic ends up mistaking consolation for repair.
The subtext is gendered even when it isn’t explicitly feminist. Glasgow wrote in an era when women could publish but were still treated as minor, regional, or "domestic" artists, while the canon-making machinery (editors, critics, institutions) lionized men and movements that fit the story it wanted to tell about modern American literature. Her phrasing carries the sting of being present for your own erasure: she didn’t fail to enter the room; she had to stand there and watch the applause go elsewhere.
Then comes the bleak twist: recognition arrives "at last", yet is "too late". Glasgow refuses the tidy narrative of perseverance rewarded. Late acclaim can’t "alter events" because art isn’t only legacy; it’s livelihood, health, confidence, and the practical freedom to choose your work. The line reads less like a complaint than a warning: a culture that postpones justice until it’s symbolic ends up mistaking consolation for repair.
Quote Details
| Topic | Aging |
|---|
More Quotes by Ellen
Add to List





