Over the course of this year those of you who pay attention to critical reviews of literature may have noted the praise heaped upon the New York Review of Books (NYRB) reprint of John Williams' 1965 novel Stoner. Tonight I finished my read of the novel, book number fifty of 2013 for me, and I can attest to the veracity of that critical praise. Stoner is a relatively slim novel that tells the life story of a man who is remarkable to the reader and yet leaves but the faintest impression on the world he moved through. Stoner relates all of William Stoner's life in such a way that one can't help but admire his quiet strength and integrity ... and his terrible fragility. For those who elect to read this novel, I strongly recommend you read the introduction by John McGahern after you read the book. Like too many prefaces or introductions not written by the author, it tells too much of what you'll soon be reading.

From the novel:

"Sometimes, immersed in his books, there would come to him the awareness of all that he did not know, of all that he had not read; and the serenity for which he labored was shattered as he realized the little time he had left in life to read so much, to learn what he had to know."

If this passage strikes you, you need to experience John Williams' novel. In a year that, for me, has been filled with arrant pleasures as well as both death ("... but not for you, Gunslinger") and its imminence, the closing of the novel, like the closing of the page, carried both weight and an unfettering.