Richard Yates’ The Easter Parade and Willa Cather’s The Professor’s House.
albertthealligator on
Lots of great choices. First, obvs, John Williams’s two other mature novels, Augustus and Butcher’s Crossing; totally different from Stoner but still, after all, written by John Williams.
But, more to your questiopn, here are a few beautifully written and somewhat heartbreaking novels:
Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse, and Mrs Dalloway. (Also, the tribute to Mrs Dalloway: The Hours, by Michael Cunningham.)
Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth
Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady
George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss
Josephine Johnson, Now in November. (This is kind of a forgotten gem, 1930’s Pulitzer Prize winner. Johnson was primarily a poet and it shows. I love the opening line of this book, so simple and evocative: “Now in November I can see our years as a whole.”)
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Oblomov by Ivan Goncharov
Main Street by Sinclair Lewis
East of Eden by Steinbeck
Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner
The Moon and Sixpence by Somerset Maugham
Of Human Bondage by Somerset Maugham
Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry
Beach Music Pat Conroy
East of Eden by Steinbeck
Stoner is #1 for me and EoE is a close second
Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
No Longer Human but Osamu Dazai
The Time It Never Rained by Elmer Kelton
The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Leo Tolstoy
Richard Yates’ The Easter Parade and Willa Cather’s The Professor’s House.
Lots of great choices. First, obvs, John Williams’s two other mature novels, Augustus and Butcher’s Crossing; totally different from Stoner but still, after all, written by John Williams.
But, more to your questiopn, here are a few beautifully written and somewhat heartbreaking novels:
Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse, and Mrs Dalloway. (Also, the tribute to Mrs Dalloway: The Hours, by Michael Cunningham.)
Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth
Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady
George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss
Josephine Johnson, Now in November. (This is kind of a forgotten gem, 1930’s Pulitzer Prize winner. Johnson was primarily a poet and it shows. I love the opening line of this book, so simple and evocative: “Now in November I can see our years as a whole.”)