Ten medieval professors gathered virtually by the flickering light of their department-issued monitors and spoke as to the lifespan of a university faculty member. Their reviews differed:
Karl: An unremarkable story about an unremarkable man told remarkably well.
It took me a while to get interested in this book, though eventually I did become engrossed in it. Upon finishing, my regret was that a book this beautifully written was not written about a more substantive topic. Seems like a waste of effort. I don’t think I gained any insight from reading this book, which is always a disappointment. However, as prose, I admire the author’s skill. This is a well told, if not particularly enlightening, story.and from well outside of the campus boundary:
I am so sorry that I will not be able to join the discussion of your book selection on Thursday. I have an appointment with a retina specialist that took four months to get, and I don't want to have to wait another four months.
Thank you, Dick, for choosing this book. In my opinion, Stoner by John Williams was the best novel we have read since reading Plainsong by Kent Haruf which Tom selected three years ago. Although I found elements of tragedy and despair that reminded me of Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy and even in some instances of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, I still was buoyed by the role love played in the relationship between William Stoner and his daughter and between him and Katherine Driscoll. I also found Stoner's love and passion for his work a positive and uplifting force. John Williams is an outstanding writer. The clarity of his prose underscored the intensity of the scenes in this novel as it did in Butcher's Crossing. I believe in many respects Stoner's description of Katherine Driscoll's book defines John Williams' own style: "The prose was graceful, and its passion was masked by a coolness and clarity of intelligence."
Can't wait to hear what others thought of the book.
Warmest regards, Jack
To my way of thinking, Stoner is a very good novel, and I can see why critics, tired of Clive Custler, like and praise it.
I see it in the tradition of the great American novel, of Henry James, beautifully written in telling, economical prose. The narrator sets a good pace, covering a lifetime in 278 paper back pages, and does so with great empathy for his characters.
Even Edith, not particularly likeable, is keenly observed. As she comes down for her wedding, "she was like a cold light coming into the room." Later when she and Stoner kiss, "her lips were as dry as his own."
This is beautiful, clear prose that does not waste words. Thus, as comes next, that short, magnificent summary of all things past and future, when on the train to St.Louis, ostensibly for their honeymoon, "Wm Stoner realized that it was all over and that he had a wife."
"All over" indeed, so that Edith's later demand for a child has no meaning, either as a sign of intimacy or of love.
Only one problem: this novel is an absolute downer, the perfect literary manifestation of life as an exercise in quiet desperation. As a teacher I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to present this novel for its many merits to the young man in the second row, looking sideways at the girl adjusting her sweater.
How am I going to convince him that this dreary stuff is worth reading? Stoner perfectly demonstrates the dilemma of teaching the Humanities in an era focused on technology and progress. Compared to Stoner, I submit that even differential equations are exciting, and Boolean algebra becomes almost sensuous
