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John Williams's Stoner blew me away. I've never read anything like it and some passages left me moved to the point of exhaustion. When I finished I put down the book (well, the Nook), picked it up again, and re-read highlighted pages. Stoner gave me strength; if you believe that the right books find you at the right time, as sometimes I believe, this book found me at the right time.

Stoner outlines the life of a farm kid who, at his dad's recommendation, attends college for agricultural studies but switches to literature and becomes a low-level university faculty member for most of his career. He marries an affluent city girl, starts teaching, and loves his daughter. His marriage begins to crumble and he starts an affair with a student. He runs afoul of university politics and lands an insulting teaching schedule. Williams manages, with breathtaking grace, to create complex, nuanced characters through lean, careful sentences. He'll pass years with a few heartbreaking paragraphs and allow the reader to generate what's between the lines. Stoner is like a Rothko painting put to words; empty blotches, perhaps, at first glance, but sublime, minimalist depth with time and attention. Characters change, but not all the way, then change back again, and, if a happy ending emerges, it's a still, sublime happiness.

I'm a teacher so I was, of course, overlaying my own background on the text while reading. But I think I would have appreciated Stoner anyway. The novel's power rises from its quiet, subtle movement. An excellent introduction (I don't think I've ever said that before...most introductions are stupid) in the NYRB edition includes a rate Williams interview in which the author describes the main character as heroic for, essentially, sticking to his own values and doing the best he can. What might appear as small failures are potentially victories in the context of Stoner's values (which, in other characters' eyes, sometimes appear as stubbornness). And even if you can't control every element of your environment, the politics at your job, how the people you love respond to challenges, and other variables across the multitudes of contexts, you can respond with grace and dignity. And when, nearing death, he experiences this:

A sense of his own identity came upon him with a sudden force, and he felt the power of it. He was himself, and he knew what he had been

I wanted to raise my fists in the air and recognize all of the invisible punk rock people living quietly, without affectation, holding as true as possible to their cores in the face of unrelenting messages that there is something wrong with them and they should feel other than they do and be other than what they are.

Stoner is amazing. You might not like it, I suppose, as some of my GR friends didn't. But even glancing through the text, searching out quotes, makes me feel more alive. For me, Stoner is one of those books. Thank you, Mr. Williams. You made my weekend. And beyond.

P.S. In some of the book's NYRB promotional materials Tom Hanks praises Stoner. I swear, Mr. Hanks, if you turn this novel into a movie, I will beat your ass. At least on the internet. I'm afraid you'll include scenes in which you're standing on a leaf-blown quad, deep in thought, staring into the sky, while treacly strings play in the background and the camera pans high and away. Don't fucking ruin this novel, Mr. Hanks. I'm warning you.