Robert Stone’s intriguing novels have been a great pleasure to me for my entire adult life. I’ve gladly followed him through so many storylines, and I’ve been richly rewarded every time. But until now, my reading of his nonfiction was limited to a piece here and there in a few periodicals. Driven by a fellow author and an enormous fan of Stone, the first collection of his nonfiction writings has now been released.

The engaging introductions for the book and each of its sections are written by the collection’s enthusiastic editor, Madison Smartt Bell. Bell has also recently written a large biography of Stone, titled Child of Light—which currently sits beckoning to me from a nearby shelf.

Reading piece after piece of Stone’s was a glorious experience. His nonfiction writing was rich, varied, and always intelligent. Sometimes life offers great rewards, lately I have been finding myself reaping the riches of Joan Didion’s writings, and now Mr. Bell has brought forth a wonderful volume of Robert Stone in his nonfiction glory. Reading the words of a fine writer holds the darkness of one’s life at bay. When my wife was alive, she was my rock. Now, I find that reading has become my rock, but right now, Stone is my rock. ( )