Lindhardt og Ringhof. Et forlagseventyr
Lindhardt og Ringhof. Et forlagseventyr
Lindhardt og Ringhof. Et forlagseventyr
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When men had art and women<br />
had babies<br />
From Fay Weldon to <strong>Lindhardt</strong> <strong>og</strong> <strong>Ringhof</strong><br />
I was seven novels into my writing career in England before<br />
I was published in a language other than English. The novel<br />
was Praxis, the language was Danish, the publisher was the<br />
new Lind h ardt and <strong>Ringhof</strong>, and the year was 1980.<br />
I assumed this tardiness was for the normal reason – that<br />
it was too early in the world’s history for novels by women<br />
to be considered “literature”. Literature was what got<br />
translated – that is to say, novels by men. Novels by women<br />
were not worth the bother and were seen as flimsy, lightweight,<br />
overemotional things. Men had art, was the belief<br />
at the time, women had babies. Publishing in the seventies<br />
was still a male dominated profession, especially so in<br />
Scandinavia. Critics were male, elder ly, and never smiled.<br />
They were not argued with, and couldn’t bear anything<br />
which took female domestic life – which was pretty much<br />
all the life women had at the time – seriously. Booksellers<br />
likewise. And the old-style publishers fell into line.<br />
There were other factors at work of course, but I was an<br />
ardent feminist and blind to them. Forget that I was female;<br />
the fact that my UK publisher was Hodder and Stoughton<br />
didn’t help. They published books for the middle market;<br />
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