Zoë Halaban

“He felt himself at last beginning to be a teacher, which is simply a man to whom his book is true, to whom is given a dignity of art that has little to do with his foolishness or weakness or inadequacy as a man.” – John Williams, “Stoner.”

I am not positive how I came across this book, but I am exceedingly grateful that I did. Among all of my favorites, I have found this book to be one of the best but hardest books to recommend. 

First, people are immediately suspicious as a result of the name: Stoner. The truth is, the book has nothing to do with what many, especially on a college campus, would suspect it is about. Sorry to disappoint. Second, there is no enticing way to summarize this book in a quick conversation. For a book like Moby Dick, it’s easy to dramatize the 600 pages of whale facts interspersed with fragments of action and pursuits of glory. The same can not be done with “Stoner.” If you asked me to give you my honest summary of the book, I’d tell you: “It’s about the entire life of a man who goes to school and falls in love with literature.” It’s not an easy sell, but please keep reading. 

William Stoner was born on a cash-strapped Missouri farm to traditionalist parents at the inception of the 20th century. He grew up learning the disciplined ways of farm life and carried those tenets with him as he aged. The book itself is written accordingly; the language, although beautiful, is regimented and thus manages to encapsulate a life within 200 pages. 

At around the age of many readers of the YDN, Stoner’s parents confront him with their ambitious, though expensive, plan to send him to the local college to learn agriculture. He is largely uninterested in his soil chemistry and agriculture courses and is weeded out from those STEM classes, akin to the experience of many a Yale student. However, he finds moderately more success in English literature. Like Stoner, I found it comforting many years ago to retreat into the warmer embrace of the humanities. As part of a dying breed here at Yale, this book reminded me why the humanities are endlessly important, no matter what your friend on Science Hill says.

It is refreshing to watch a man like Stoner fall in love with literature, a field his parents would have indeed disapproved of had they been informed of their son’s plans. Under the tutelage of an indifferent English professor, Stoner’s barren life of farm labor and agronomy blooms with a secret passion. Literature, for him, is the academic escape he did not know he needed from the difficult realities of poverty in the early 1900s. 

I chose to read “Stoner” during my first days at Yale because I thought reading about a protagonist who loved literature would help me embrace the liberal arts. I was wrong about this. Now, I only really want to love literature. Even still, I could not help but appreciate just a sliver of the absolute beauty Stoner regarded the works he studied. Being an academic is hard work, as John Williams shows us (not the legendary “Star Wars” composer, hence another difficulty in recommending this book). Still, Stoner makes his work worth the pain despite adversarial professors and insolent graduate students. I found it fascinating as well how the book sheds light on the experiences of professors, those who we may tend to assume lead very simple and straightforward lives within their studies, when, truthfully, they may be as nervous, confused and excited as we are. 

Beyond topics like the early Medieval lyric tradition in England — which Williams does not dwell on, thankfully — Stoner’s life is quietly rich and vibrant. Stoner, who grew up in Dust Bowl isolation, slowly becomes a familiar and consistent reality of life in Columbia, Missouri, where he teaches at the University. He makes fewer friends and just as many enemies despite being a resolutely kind and dedicated teacher to the students.

As a lonely student of literature, Stoner falls in love with a woman whom he admits he had no business consorting with in the first place as a result of Southern class differences. The book moves two young, innocent and shy characters together through life and the many difficulties they incur through their own tragic flaws. Stoner errs in his relationship, as does his wife, but, as Williams shows, that’s life. Many may view their relationship as lifeless, but Stoner does not mind. He falls in love again. 

Through reading “Stoner,” I came closer to understanding the humble and often rare pleasure discovered among our passions. It is easy to forget, among the maelstrom of clubs, fraternities and distributional requirements, that we applied to this school as interested and dedicated students; the curiosity I cherished and nurtured coming into Yale has been adulterated and occluded behind more concrete assignments, classes and, ultimately, distractions. Don’t forget that subject you love, especially while you’re here.  

I would not blame you if you thought Stoner’s life, to the extent that I have revealed so far, incredibly dull. By modern standards, that may be true. Williams, who I am proud to say taught English at a school down the road from my hometown for many years, imbues each facet of the story with exceeding beauty and sensibility. Through his incredible and award-winning writing, he creates an intensely powerful beauty within a simple life — one that I suspect keeps the book popular as a reaction to the complexities of today that Stoner hardly foresaw. 

After I finished the novel, I was left staring at the wall for a long time. I was floored. For Stoner, I felt a degree of respect and admiration fictional characters would seldom attain, but he would indeed reject such praise if I were able to share it with him. To all students who seek beauty in their daily readings, essays and seminars or those who long for the spark of curiosity for a class they once had, I have found the book for you.