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Albrecht Dürer: Job and his Wife

Vintage books seem to specialise in producing beautiful paperback editions of titles that have been out of print or have only recently been translated into English. I have a small collection of their red-spined covers sitting on my shelves. They all have something in common apart from the red spines; they are books I may read again sometime in my life because of the quality of the writing, the depth of the characterisation and the overall worth of the contents. They are books that won’t date and that I won’t outgrow.

A friend placed this Vintage book in my hands last week and said, you must read it and tell me what you think. I was curious as I’d noticed that Stoner, although written decades ago, had been getting a lot of attention recently and I was glad of the opportunity to read it at last. I put everything else aside and read the book over a short space of time, unusual for me as I often dip in and out of several books at the same time.
My edition has an introduction by John McGahern. McGahern is a writer I respect a lot. I’d love to see his books getting more attention—a re-release of McGahern's works would allow a new generation of readers to see how he evolved over time, how he kept rubbing away at a small number of themes until they were as smooth and perfect as a stone polished by the sea.
Smooth but not flat.
The word flat occurs to me because I found Williams' writing flat from the beginning, not flat as in spare or plain but flat as in lifeless.

The early part is a familiar story, the boy from the farm goes to college and meets a teacher who helps him discover his life’s passion. At that point, I thought: oh, wonderful, the author has been using a flat style in the early part so that he can provide a contrast in the section where his hero, William Stoner, discovers the pleasures of literature. And yes, there is huge promise in the device the author uses of having his hero awaken via a Shakespeare sonnet. But, although Stoner goes on to read widely, eventually teaching in a college, his literary journey doesn’t influence the language of the novel very much—there is no interplay between Williams� writing and Stoner’s literary evolution. It is as if Williams set out to avoid literary resonances, in fact I found more biblical parallels than literary ones.

But to continue with the literature issues, there are a few examples of Stoner’s teaching skills inserted into the text, and though he does sound like a very dedicated teacher, the extracts from lectures and the questions he puts to a student relating to poetry didn't match with what we are told of Stoner's passion for literature. But I did find it interesting and clever that each time he gazed through a window, or better still, opened a window, the language soared and I was breathing in fresh air alongside the main character. What joy! The few times that happened, I silently willed John Williams to keep the window open. But, except for some moving writing near the end, he preferred not to.

John McGahern quotes Williams in the introduction: when asked if literature is written to be entertaining, he answers, “Absolutely. My God, to read without joy is stupid�. I wouldn’t put it quite like that but there is truth in what Williams says. And a large part of the pleasure of reading comes from the quality of an author's writing. It’s interesting to note that I’ve struggled to write this review. I’ve been asking myself why it is so difficult to write about Stoner and the answer may lie in Williams� own words: when reading is a joy, the response to it is effortless, the review tumbles out, inspired by the words we’ve read. When there’s no joy, making a response is an enormous effort. However, since I rarely have to make such an effort (as I usually find reading a joy), I’ll challenge myself a little more.

I’ve concentrated on the writing because it’s always more important for me than the plot but I do pay attention to how the plot and the characters are handled. Early in the novel, Williams decides to have Stoner choose a wife. So Stoner goes to a shop and sees one he likes and decides to buy her straight away.
No. I’m joking, of course. And can I point out here that there is absolutely no humour in this book so my joke is out of place. Except it isn’t, because that’s more or less the way Stoner picks his wife. He sees Edith once and decides to marry her. She has no say whatever and Williams even stresses her passive reluctance. So the business is conducted between the girl's father and the prospective son-in-law. But Williams doesn’t plan on presenting this catalogue bride as a victim. Oh, no, the hero is the only victim in every episode of the long saga which is his life (I used the word 'hero' because Williams said in the interview quoted in the introduction that Stoner “is a real hero�).

I mentioned biblical echoes earlier. Stoner is like a Job figure; every possible plague is thrown at him, and his enemies are horribly diabolical, but he endures all of his ‘undeserved trials� with the utmost patience and rarely fights back.
That would be fine if he alone were the victim. But he is not the only victim. Apart from his wife, whose character remains one-dimensional throughout and her extraordinary ‘evil� nature unexplained, there is a daughter who becomes the true victim in the story. The author fails to underline that his hero never makes a real effort to save his daughter. I’m not blaming him for allowing the daughter to be sacrificed but I am asking the author to be aware of his main character’s failure to save her. It is never acknowledged. So how can he be a hero?

Stoner also stands by when a young women he becomes involved with is sacked because of him. Although other reasons are given, the author implies that Stoner can't save her because he has to save his daughter instead. Except that he doesn't save his daughter.

There were a few occasions when I wondered if Williams was really aware of what he was doing in this novel: the way he has Stoner choose his wife; the way he handles the daughter story; the loose ends that are scattered throughout, and finally, the enemies he chooses for his 'hero' (apart from the ‘evil� wife).
The main enemy is a work colleague called Lomax. There are no reasons given for Lomax’s unrelenting attacks upon Stoner. Both Lomax and the student he engages to help in the vicious attacks on Stoner, have physical disabilities, so one of the implications of their unexplained vendetta has to be jealousy of Stoner’s physical strength. I found that disturbing. John McGahern, in the introduction, refrains from commenting on this aspect of the novel, simply stating that the portrait of Hollis Lomax is “the most complex� in the entire book. McGahern doesn’t really discuss the story in any depth. Instead, he writes an introduction that is little more than a summary as if Williams were an old friend for whom he was doing a favour.

I mentioned loose ends or red herrings so I had better deal with them before I finish. Stoner refuses to join the army in 1917 when the United States declares war on Germany. His friends join up and one of them, Finch, accuses Stoner of letting everyone down. While we, the readers, might agree with Stoner’s decision, we worry that it will come back to haunt him especially as Finch returns in glory and becomes the dean of the faculty where Stoner teaches. But that threat is never realised, and surprisingly so, considering all the other much more unlikely plagues that fall on Stoner’s head.

There is some mystery implied about Stoner’s wife and her relationship with her parents but that too is never explained, a big gap since everything about her needs further development. McGahern says she is in the tradition of the ‘beautiful, unstable� heroine found in O’Neill, Tenessee Williams, Faulkner and Scott Fitzgerald. I can’t imagine that any of those writers created a character as paper-thin as Edith Stoner.
A further loose end is Stoner's first literature teacher, a man called Archer Sloane. He is given a significant role in the beginning but is not exploited very much afterwards. That is a real pity as he was my favourite character.

The front cover of my copy contains a sticker which reads:

  
    The greatest novel you’ve never read
  

If this is the greatest novel I had never read, what am I going to do for the rest of my life?
I may have to take up bridge.