According to a well-known essay by William Gass, it is not a good thing for any ambitious writer to receive the Pulitzer Prize for fiction, because the prize has consistently been awarded to mediocre writers, and thus brands each of its recipients with the stamp of mediocrity. There are, however, (as even Gass admits) the occasional execptions where the Pulitzer jury slipped up and gave the prize to an outstanding work. Angle of Repose is, in my opinion one of those exceptions, in fact it is a very big slip-up as it is a truly exceptional work of fiction.

The novel has a lot of reviews both on Librarything and on Goodreads, so I assume that it is somewhat popular. I suspect, however, that this popularity extends mostly to readers from the US only - I at least had never heard of Stegner before, and I consider myself decently informed about US fiction in the 20th century. Part of this at least might be due to the fact that Angle of Repose is essentially a Western – a Western, however, in the sense that n  Heaven’s Gaten is a Western, i.e. more concerned about what the American West during the days of the pioneers actually looked and felt like, as opposed to contributing to (or even concerning itself with) its myths and legends. Angle of Repose, then, is for the most part a historical novel, describing the fate of Susan Ward and her husband Oliver Ward in the American West at the end of the 19th century. But it is a contemporary novel as well, because it also tells of how Lyman Ward, a retired history professor tries in the late sixties of the 20th century to piece together the history of his grandmother Susan from letters and other documents. The latter, although taking up somewhat less of the novel’s pages, is not just a framing device for the former, but both strands mingle and interweave intimately and form a single narrative from which one cannot lift one part without undoing the other.

While Angle of Repose is not a depressing book, it is a sad one – the beginning might be exuberant, in places even giddily so, but its palette grows gradually more sombre, and by the end has shaded into a deep melancholy. This novel, in other words, is an elegy, and on at least three distinct levels. On the first and most obvious one, it is an elegy for a place and a time, namely the Old West. Stegner never attempts to make them seem romantic or glamorous, but pretty much every line of the book is infused with an ache for the loss of the pioneer spirit and bemoaning the complancency and self-centredness of present day America. Of course, this might all very well be just the point of view of the narrator whose perspective is likely tinged by his own, not inconsiderable problems - chiefly, a crippling bone disease and the unfaithfulness of his wife. And the latter leads us to the novel’s second level of elegy: It also is an elegy for a way of life, namely traditional monogamous marriage. Stegner presents us with three generations of partnership in The Angle of Repose: First, the marriage of Susan and Oliver Ward which passes through many hardships, struggles and separations but lasts for sixty years until both partners die within months of each other. Second, the marriage of narrator Lyman Ward and his wife Ellen which founders at the first major crisis (the diagnosis of Lyman’s incurable disease and his wife subsequently leaving him for his surgeon). And third, the marriage between Lyman’s temporary secretary Shelly and someone called Larry Rasmussen (who we never get to see first hand) which seems not really a marriage at all and to be over before it really started. Again, there is the narrator’s not exactly impartial perspective to be considered, but there is a clear line drawn here and it is one of decline.

It is becoming clear that perspective and point of view play a large role in this novel, and this leads us to its third level of elegy: Angle of Repose is an elegy for a literary form, namely the realist novel. I don’t think there is any doubt that the book’s undertaking is basically realist – it is giving the reader a portrait of the American West, and one of unparalleled vividness: The tired clichés of people coming alive, of descriptions jumping off the pages of a book – they seem to have been invented after a reading of Angle of Repose, the writing is just so incredibly colourful and evocative. But at the same time, the novel is highly reflective about this evocation; while conjuring up the sights of the Old West, its sounds and smells, its sensations and tastes, it never lets us forget that this is merely a reconstruction, and one based on a very slim foundation of facts. Lyman Ward, the narrator who pieces Susan’s life together, makes no secret that a huge part of what he is writing are things that he extrapolated or simply made up from his grandmother’s letters and the occasional news clipping. Overall, it is a constant theme of the novel that even writing as vivid as this never can catch up to reality, and it comes to a head in the way the novel handles the climactic catastrophic event in Susan’s and Oliver’s life, namely by mostly burying it in ellipsis and leaving it to the reader to imagine what precisely might have happened. And what resolve there is for the present-day narrative thread happens in a dream, and one that explicitely references Kafka, to boot. The novel realizes its own impossibility and fittingly collapses into itself rather than that it ends.

And that is not even all, there is an additional level to it - as if not quite trusting fiction to do the job on its own, Wallace Stegner based the story of Susan Ward very closely on the real life of writer and illustrator Mary Hallock Foote, and even went so far as to incorporate excerpts from her letters into his own novel (sparking off a controversy which apparently has not quite simmered down even today). Thus, it requires historical documents to give the novel its authenticity, and its claim to realism rests on some ten percent of quoted letters, with the rest being so much smoke and mirrors. This of course raises the question of why one would write a novel at all, and not a work of non-fiction (of which Stegner himself wrote several) or, in this particular case, edit a selection of Mary Hallock Foote’s letters (as someone else did after the interest in her work that Angle of Repose created) – a question that the novel does not really answer, and a question that maybe is without an answer, at least for as long as one sticks to the premises of realism.

All of this might give the impression that Angle of Repose was a difficult novel, but that impression would be quite wrong – while it is a highly reflective novel, it is also an immense joy to read (or at least it was to me – skimming through some of the reviews, quite a few of which call it boring, your mileage may vary), mainly because of Stegner’s writing which raises vividness to a new level and really pushes the boundaries of how evocative prose can be. Angle of Repose is full of descriptions – they are not long, but very numerous, and you can open the book on any page at random and will invariably come across something – a piece of scenery, a perspective on a building, a glimpse of a face, the reflexion of light on water – something observed with startling precision and caught in a beautiful phrase. There is much to admire in this novel – its evocation of the American West, it’s thoughtful composition, it’s fully rounded characters which are deeply flawed as humans are but still likeable – but what really makes it stand out and had me add it to my list of favourite novels was the precision and power of its writing, that had me stumble from one wonderful description to the next until I was dizzy from delight, literally drunk on Stegner’s language.

The angle of repose is an important science, engineering and geological term indicating the maximum slope of loose, granular material, measured in degrees from the horizontal, is stabilized without sliding.

“Touch. It is touch that is the deadliest enemy of chastity, loyalty, monogamy, gentility with its codes and conventions and restraints. By touch we are betrayed and betray others ... an accidental brushing of shoulders or touching of hands ... hands laid on shoulders in a gesture of comfort that lies like a thief, that takes, not gives, that wants, not offers, that awakes, not pacifies. When one flesh is waiting, there is electricity in the merest contact.”
― Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

I have had good luck recently with reading older books—novels I would call modern classics. Two examples are Robert Penn Warren’s All the King’s Men and Pearl Buck’s The Good Earth, both of which I read and reviewed earlier this year. Angle of Repose is a classic of American literature and the 1972 Pulitzer Prize winner for fiction. While Angle of Repose is a novel about a man writing a novel, it is an American story—a story of the personal sacrifices and misfortunes of those who helped developed the west in the 1800s. Being the grandson of German Americans who settled, and struggled at times, in north-central Nebraska, this story was of particular interest to me.

The narrator of the story is 58-year-old Lyman Ward, a retired professor of history and author of books about the Western frontier. Estranged from his wife and embittered, he returns to his family home in Grass Valley, California (the Zodiac Cottage)—the last place his grandparents lived. Confined to a wheelchair by a degenerative bone disease and dependent on others for many of his needs, Ward has resolved to write a book about his grandmother. In his quest, Lyman uncovers information about his grandparents that leads him to examine his own life and relationships.

The year is 1970. While part of the story is about Lyman’s situation, which includes an estranged wife and a son who has embraced the ’60s culture, most of the book is about the life of Lyman’s beloved grandmother, Susan Burling Ward, who was an accomplished writer and illustrator. He has gathered personal letters and newspaper articles relating to his grandmother's life and begins her story. But his focus is on his grandmother’s marriage. Born and raised on the East Coast, Susan Burling marries a young, but enthusiastic, mining engineer named Oliver Ward after a short courtship. She follows her young husband west, leaving behind astonished friends and colleagues, as well as her life of refinement. While this might have been a shock to Susan, she made the most of the experience as they tried to carve out their place in the western frontier. She did some writing, but mostly drew illustrations for books and magazines. Her efforts supplemented her husband’s unpredictable income. In time, Susan learns to appreciate the beauty of her new settings. Susan and her family confront numerous challenges and endure many hardships. Over time, the marriage between an educated eastern woman and a quiet, rugged, dreamer starts to wear. Lyman discovers things about his grandmother that confirm suspicions he has held. At the same time, Lyman must face his own health and marital problems. Susan Ward’s character is based on Mary Hallock Foote, a little known 19th century writer and illustrator who was also married to a mining engineer.

Stegner’s rich prose is wonderful; his writing makes these characters come alive. The character development is exceptional. He demonstrates extraordinary insight into human nature, providing great insight into two types of people that can be difficult to depict—the physically disabled and the strong, complex women of the late 19th century. Stegman capably represents many of the experiences and concerns of the disabled—the fight to maintain independence, the need to stay actively engaged and productive, and contending with the opinions of others on how you should live and act.

“No life goes past so swiftly as an eventless one, no clock spins like a clock whose days are all alike.”
― Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

Susan Burling Ward is masterfully drawn; she is a complex combination of educated Eastern lady, successful working woman, and adaptable pioneering wife. But Stegner is at his best when describing the unique beauty of the American West—the mountains, canyons, and the vast, windy prairie:

“Out of their flat shadows the poles of the corral and the trunks of the cottonwoods bulged with a magical roundness like the moon’s. As she watched, charmed, the trees below must have been touched by the canyon wind, for flakes of light glittered up at her and then were gone. But there was no sound of wind, and where she stood there was not the slightest stir in the air. The glitter of soundless light from that little picture lighted in the midst of darkness was like a shiver of the earth.”
― Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

Angle of Repose is an exceptional novel that exposes the romanticizing of America’s West as a wide-open land of unlimited opportunity for the strong, ambitious, and self-reliant individual. Early in the novel, I wondered whether Lyman’s story was necessary, but I learned that without Lyman's narrative input, Susan Ward's story would have been little more than epic melodrama. His perspective enables us to draw parallels between Susan's life and his own, between her time and ours. It shouldn’t be a surprise that I highly recommend Angle of Repose. I only wish that there had been an illustrated edition of the novel making use of Mary Hallock Foote’s 19th century illustrations.

An amazing saga of a man who, from his wheelchair, writes the history of his grandparents' adventures in the western frontier of the 1800's. This is a story to read slowly and savor. Four generations are encompassed and the story is riveting.

Until the last two chapters, I found this history of the dissolution of a love and marriage written by a writer in 1970 about his grandmother in the 1800s to be as slow as real time and as agonizing as the real events. The writing was wonderful, but rather than enjoy it, I found myself wanting to "have read it" more than I wanted to be reading it. And about three-quarters of the way through, the 1970s writer bemoans the same agony I was feeling:

About this time I need some Mister Bones to say to me, "Doesn't this story have anything in it but hard luck and waiting? Isn't the man ever going to get that ditch dug?" Then I can reply in summary fashion, and get by this dead time. For it bothers me to wait it out with them. (475)

I was more interested in the 1970s writer than the people of the past (who took of up the majority of the story), but the interweaving and transitions between the two stories was so masterful and the writing was so authentic that I couldn't stop reading. And then came the last two chapters. Like the ending to All the Little Live Things, which had conditioned me to trust that Stegner was taking me somewhere, the last two chapters were superb, Shakespearean, worth waiting for. I could barely breathe. They were the reason for this book.

Postscript
Do not read the Jackson J. Benson introduction (to the 2000 edition) before reading this novel. I usually don't read introductions because I expect there will be spoilers, but halfway through, when I read a reference to accusations of plagiarism in regard to this book, I made the mistake of reading it. As far as plagiarism is concerned, I'm satisfied with Benson's detailed history of how Wallace Stegner was given permission (in writing) by an heir of illustrator Mary Hallock Foote to use her letters however he wanted, but on condition that he keep the name of the source a secret. He double-checked this before publishing, offered the heir a copy of the fictionalized manuscript for review and the heir declined to read it and again assured him he had carte blanche but must not name sources. After the book was published and won the Pulitzer, and after other family members had formally published Foote's letters, there was a brouhaha about ownership. In my opinion, Stegner kept his promise, used Foote's letters (which were the least interesting thing in this book), fictionalized the plot, and named the source only as initials in a dedication/attribution. And in finding all this out, I ran right smack into a massive spoiler. I hate that!

I also hate that there is a controversy still when the man was given explicit permission. This is personal for me, as my mother Edna Robinson, who was my writing partner for two film scripts, left her writing to me. Before I published her novel, n  The Trouble with the Truthn, my agent asked me to produce proof of ownership, which I did. Edna and I had discussed this, and she left it in writing that I own all her work—to use it however I choose. I have since used a revised excerpt of one of her unfinished, unpublished articles in a section of a new novel in which I have also used her protagonist from The Trouble with the Truth in an adult form, created by me. I credit Edna with the birth of this material in an acknowledgement, and if I ever manage to sell this novel, I would hate to have it sullied by people with some kind of political beef I cannot even imagine.

Wallace Stegner is a magnificent writer and he wrote this book, using source material that was given to him for that purpose.

End of diatribe.

4,5 stars. I was already crazy about Stegner after my all-time favourite 'Crossing to safety' and was confirmed by Angle of repose which is even more epic and contains the same magnificent language, metaphores, characters, story development and wisdom. Oh, how wise is Stegner! It loses 0,5 star because it could have used some more editing. Some storylines and episodes are just too long and detailed. Part of it is functional and needed for the build-up of the general story, some of it I find unnecessary. Still, in total: a must-read

No point reviewing something I read 40 years ago unless I decide to re-read it one day. And at $1.99 on Kindle today, 15 July 2018, that sounds like a tempting idea.

For anyone innocent of Stegner's gorgeous word-edifices, this is an excellent place to become acquainted with him. There is a piffling controversy surrounding this book's use of a Victorian historian's actual letters in a fictional context, but seriously people! Is there some copyright violation implied in this absurd kerfuffle? NO! The lady died many years before Stegner was born, and he doesn't ever even imply that the words are his own.

Sheesh.

So anyway, back to why you should read this book: Right there in the title is the key to understanding and appreciating Stegner as a writer. The poetic-sounding title refers to an engineering concept. The angle of repose refers to the last stable point a granular substance achieves before a cascading failure occurs. That's the most perfect title for this book I can imagine.

(And if you're an engineer, please feel free to correct my misunderstanding of the term. Otherwise belt up.)

On the Wings of Love

"He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy,
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sun rise."
William Blake

This novel is structured with a fictional novelist writing a novel (meta-fiction) based on the life of his grandmother (which character is partly based the life of a real woman). The story travels between

1) the 1st person account of the novelist, a retired lit prof who recently had a leg amputated, after which his wife left him for his surgeon; and,

2) the novel within, written in the objective 3d person about his prudish grandmother, a Quaker-raised painter/author from the Northeast who married a mining engineer (grandpa) and moved west, thereafter migrating frequently to new places/jobs between 1870 & 1895.

While many tout this book for its portrait of the new America in the West, I found this book the most penetrating for its meditations on:

the struggle to maintain marital vows after an endless string of financial travesties and broken dreams;

the devastating cost of one spouse's refusal to forgive and let go of resentments (a cancer to the soul, love and the family as a unit); and, most significantly,

the overwhelmingly redemptive power and wisdom of true forgiveness as an absolute necessity to a life well lived.

A high recommendation with a proviso that the first 60 pages get kind of tedious due to Stegner establishing the meta-fiction structure.

This is a book that requires, and then richly rewards, a fair amount of patients. It is a story within a story; the account of a lonely and isolated man who is writing the tale of his grandparents and their enduring but tragic marriage. This marriage also parallels the American west, the sweeping landscape in which it unfolds. The two interwoven narratives slowly unfurl facet by glittering facet.

Susan is an artist who loves literary and intellectual things. She falls in love with and marries Oliver, an engineer with a rigid sense of justice. They are both good people but proud for different reasons, which makes it difficult for them to recognize and meet each other's emotional needs. Their grandson becomes fascinated with their relationship and decides to write a book about it. He is dealing with his own difficulties; he has become severely disabled and his marriage has ended. He uses the story of his grandparents to contextualize and search for perspective on his own life.

This is a stunning and unforgettable piece of writing with awesome scope and rare delicacy of feeling.

The chapter, 'Michoacan', is every bit as beautiful as anything found in "Dr. Zhivago" or "Anna Karenina". No gimmicky literary processes in this Pulitzer winner, just good solid character development and wise reflections.

I really enjoyed this book! This is a book of fiction, but it's like a biography, history, and psychology all rolled into one eloquently written story. Lyman Ward looses himself in writing about his grandmother, not only to forget about his troubles, but also to understand himself better. To find strength, or answers, in how to deal with what life has thrown his way.

This fits into the category of "Books I feel I ought to like but really, really don't." I mean, it's about the American West, and there's an interesting female character, and my mom adores both the book and the author...but god, I found it a horrible slow slog, relentlessly depressing and bleak, and just...unpleasant, really. Also, this book has one of the most fucking bizarre endings I have ever encountered—Stegner actually does an "And it was all a dream!" thing, which, on the one hand, I kind of admire him for, but also...WTF?

I think I said almost exactly this when we read this book for my Junior Seminar in college. And yet my professor still loved me! Rodney should have been an English major, man—apparently being blunt and rude and crass is considered "refreshing."

I have read this book twice so far. The first time, I was a single college student. The second time, I had been married about five years. I'm sure I will read it again a few more times. And I'm sure that the more years of marriage I've logged, the more I will get out of this book.

Marriage, and what it takes -- and takes out of you -- to make it work is the main theme of this book. Stegner has some profound things to say about it. But even before I could personally relate to the story's main theme, I found the book beautiful and haunting.

Stegner is a real artist. His individual sentences are carefully crafted. He masterfully winds together multiple plot lines, which span centuries, and uses them to enrich and illuminate each other. He also creates a vivid sense of place in his descriptions of the 19th century American West.

The characters are not easy; they are multi-dimensional, prickly, and flawed. But how could you write a realistic book about marriage with perfectly likable characters?