Sometimes, you come across an author who feels like they’ve written just for you. That’s how I feel about John Williams. I’ve read three of his novels—Stoner, Butcher’s Crossing, and Augustus—and each one has left its mark.
Williams isn’t the kind of writer who gained widespread fame during his lifetime. His books were well-received but largely overlooked for decades. Yet, in recent years, his work has been rediscovered, especially online, where readers continue to be drawn to the quiet brilliance of his storytelling. Thanks in part to reissues by the New York Review of Books, his novels have found a whole new audience. And for good reason—his writing is timeless, deeply human, and utterly absorbing.
Stoner: The Quiet Life That Speaks Volumes
"In his forty-third year William Stoner learned what others, much younger, had learned before him: that the person one loves at first is not the person one loves at last, and that love is not an end but a process through which one person attempts to know another."
If I had to pick a favorite, it would be Stoner. Maybe it’s because it was my introduction to Williams’ work, or maybe it’s the way this seemingly simple story gets under your skin. Published in 1965, the novel follows William Stoner, a university professor whose life is described as “unremarkable.” And yet, as the novel unfolds, it becomes clear that there is nothing ordinary about Stoner’s inner world.
Raised on a farm, Stoner stumbles into literature almost by accident and finds himself drawn to academia. His career is modest, his marriage is unhappy, and his personal triumphs are few and far between. But Williams turns this quiet life into something deeply moving, showing how meaning isn’t always found in grand gestures or outward success but in the things we hold close—passions, ideas, and the small acts of resistance that define who we are. Stoner's life is a testament to the idea that even though someone lives such a simple, unassuming life, that doesn't make his life any less meaningful.
Through his passion for literature, his quiet endurance of love and loss, and his relentless pursuit of something greater within the confines of a simple life, Stoner becomes unforgettable. He’ll break your heart, frustrate you, and yet make you root for him all the same. The writing is so subtle yet powerful, and the characters are painfully real.
The writing is subtle but devastating. Williams never forces emotion; instead, he lets it simmer beneath the surface, making every moment of heartbreak and endurance feel painfully real. Stoner’s struggles—against an unkind marriage, professional rivalries, and the crushing weight of time—hit hard. He’s a character you won’t forget, no matter how unremarkable the world insists he is.
Butcher’s Crossing: The Frontier Stripped of Romance
"You get born, and you nurse on lies, and you get weaned on lies, and you learn fancier lies in school. You live all your life on lies, and then maybe when you're ready to die, it comes to you — that there's nothing, nothing but yourself and what you could have done. Only you ain't done it, because the lies told you there was something else. Then you know you could of had the world, because you're the only one that knows the secret; only then it's too late. You're too old."
From the quiet halls of academia to the brutal wilderness of the American West, Butcher’s Crossing (1960) is a completely different kind of novel from Stoner. It follows Will Andrews, a young man who leaves Harvard in search of something raw and real, believing the untamed frontier will offer him a kind of truth he can't find in books. He joins a buffalo-hunting expedition that promises adventure but soon descends into a grueling, merciless test of survival.
This is not a romanticized vision of the West. Williams strips away the myth of the frontier and replaces it with something far harsher—men driven to the edge by their own obsession, landscapes that are both breathtaking and merciless, and the slow realization that nature cannot be conquered without consequence.
The buffalo hunt at the center of the novel is one of the most intense sequences I’ve ever read. What starts as a means to make a fortune turns into something obsessive and horrifying. The novel lingers on the physical and psychological toll of the journey, showing how the pursuit of something "pure" or "untamed" often comes at a devastating price.
Though I sometimes wished for more introspection from Will, the novel’s atmosphere is haunting. The dust, the hunger, the relentless march toward an uncertain future—it all stays with you. In many ways, Butcher’s Crossing feels like a spiritual sibling to Stoner, both dealing with the pursuit of meaning in a world that offers little clarity.
Augustus: Power, Legacy, and the Weight of History
“One does not deceive oneself about the consequences of one's acts; one deceives oneself about the ease with which one can live with those consequences.”
Williams won the National Book Award for Augustus (1972), his final novel and his most ambitious work. Unlike the deeply personal focus of Stoner or the intimate journey of Butcher’s Crossing, Augustus is sprawling, covering decades of Roman history through letters, diary entries, and memoirs.
We follow the life of Emperor Augustus, from his early days as an ambitious young man to his rise as Rome’s first emperor. The novel isn’t a straightforward historical narrative—it’s more of a mosaic, piecing together the perspectives of those around Augustus, including his allies, enemies, and even his daughter, Julia, whose fate is one of the most tragic elements of the book. I always find this to be a fascinating way to tell a story—through letters, journal entries, and memoirs. Williams gives us a textured, multi-angled view of one of history’s most revered emperors. It’s clever, insightful, and immersive.
What makes Augustus so compelling is how it humanizes a figure often reduced to legend. Through Williams' careful, layered storytelling, Augustus is revealed as a man who understood power not just as a means of control but as an immense burden. The novel questions what it means to lead, to sacrifice, and to shape history—while also reckoning with the personal cost of ambition.
For me, the real brilliance is in the ending. Without giving anything away, I’ll just say that Augustus’ final reflections on life, fate, and legacy are some of the most moving passages Williams ever wrote. They linger, much like the novel itself.
Why John Williams’ Novels Endure
What ties these books together—despite their vastly different settings—is Williams’ ability to create characters who feel undeniably real. Williams’ ability to create vivid, fully realized worlds—whether it’s the quiet halls of a university, the untamed frontier, or ancient Rome is truly remarkable. His writing is never flashy, never overwrought. It’s patient, deliberate, and often heartbreaking in its simplicity. Whether he’s writing about a failed marriage, a doomed expedition, or the weight of an empire, he captures something fundamental about what it means to live, to strive, and to endure.
Though Williams never received the recognition he deserved while alive, his books have found new life in recent years. Readers continue to rediscover his work, and thanks to The New York Review of Books reissuing Stoner and Butcher’s Crossing, his novels are reaching more people than ever. There’s something incredibly satisfying about seeing an overlooked writer finally get the attention he always deserved.
For me, these three books have cemented Williams as one of my favorite authors. It’s rare for me to read multiple books by a writer and love them all, but with Williams, it feels effortless. If I had to rate them? Five stars across the board. I’m not usually a fan of rating systems, but some books just feel like a sure thing—and these are exactly that.
Have you read any of these? Or maybe all three? Let me know—I could talk about John Williams all day.