If you think you know the story because you’ve seen Cary Elwes and Robin Wright rolling down a hill, you’re only halfway there. Honestly, it’s a bit of a trip. Most people don’t realize that the Princess Bride books—or specifically, the one and only original novel—is a nesting doll of deception, satire, and deep-seated cynicism that the movie politely skips over. It’s not just a "fairytale." It’s a fictional commentary on a fictional book written by a fictional author about a fictional country.
Confused? You should be. That’s exactly how William Goldman wanted it.
When Goldman published The Princess Bride in 1973, he didn’t just write a story about "fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, and miracles." He wrote a complex meta-narrative. He claimed he was merely "abridging" a classic work by a great Florinese writer named S. Morgenstern.
He wasn’t.
There is no S. Morgenstern. There is no original, dry, 1,000-page historical text about the politics of Florin and Guilder. Goldman made the whole thing up, including the "Good parts version" conceit.
The S. Morgenstern Hoax and Why It Matters
The brilliance of the Princess Bride books lies in the framing. Goldman writes himself into the book as a character—a disgruntled Hollywood screenwriter trying to find a copy of the book his father used to read to him. In this fictionalized autobiography, he claims his father was a Florinese immigrant who read him the "good parts" of Morgenstern’s masterpiece, skipping all the boring stuff about royal genealogies and the price of livestock.
It’s meta.
📖 Related: Alfonso Cuarón: Why the Harry Potter 3 Director Changed the Wizarding World Forever
The book is filled with "interruptions" where Goldman steps out of the story to explain why he cut a forty-page chapter on Princess Buttercup’s wardrobe or a long-winded discussion on the Florinese legal system. These asides are where the real soul of the book lives. While the movie is a sincere, swashbuckling romance, the book is a gritty, often pessimistic look at how "life isn't fair."
Goldman’s fictional persona tells us about his failing marriage, his spoiled son, and his general disillusionment with the world. It’s a sharp contrast to the "True Love" Westley and Buttercup are chasing. You get this weird, beautiful friction between the idealized fairytale and the messy reality of the "editor" presenting it to you. This is why the book hits differently than the film. It’s darker. It’s more honest about pain.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Plot
People usually assume the book ends with everyone riding off on white horses. They don’t.
In the Princess Bride books, the ending is intentionally ambiguous and stressful. As Westley, Buttercup, Inigo, and Fezzik escape on the horses, the "author" notes that the horses are starting to tire. Prince Humperdinck’s reinforcements are closing in. Inigo’s wound is bleeding through his shirt. Buttercup’s hair is a mess.
Goldman (as the editor) basically tells the reader: "They got away. Or maybe they didn't. You decide."
It’s a gut-punch.
👉 See also: Why the Cast of Hold Your Breath 2024 Makes This Dust Bowl Horror Actually Work
He argues that the world doesn't give you clean endings. He recalls his father telling him that life isn't fair, and he carries that theme through every page. Even the Zoo of Death (which became the Pit of Despair in the movie) is more horrifying in print. It has five levels, each filled with increasingly terrifying predators designed to test Humperdinck's hunting skills. It’s a grim, claustrophobic setting that emphasizes the stakes.
The Mystery of Buttercup’s Baby
If you’ve ever bought a modern anniversary edition of the novel, you’ve likely seen the mention of "Buttercup’s Baby." This is the legendary "lost" sequel.
For decades, fans have hunted for the full manuscript of the second of the Princess Bride books. Here’s the reality: it doesn't exist. Not really.
Goldman included a "sample chapter" of the sequel in later editions, continuing the meta-gag. In this chapter, he claims he’s struggling with the Morgenstern estate to get the rights to abridge the sequel. The chapter itself is bizarre. It involves Westley and Buttercup’s daughter, Waverly, being kidnapped and Westley having to train her to be a survivor. It’s much more brutal than the first book.
Stephen King even gets a "cameo" in the meta-narrative, with Goldman claiming King was actually the one the Morgenstern estate wanted to do the abridgment instead of him. It’s a hilarious, high-level bit of literary trolling. Goldman died in 2018 without ever finishing it, leaving "Buttercup's Baby" as one of the most famous unfinished (or perhaps never-intended-to-be-finished) works in fantasy history.
Why the Narrative Structure Works
Why go through all this trouble? Why not just write a straight fantasy novel?
✨ Don't miss: Is Steven Weber Leaving Chicago Med? What Really Happened With Dean Archer
Because Goldman was an expert at structure. Remember, this is the man who wrote Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and All the President's Men. He knew how to manipulate an audience. By creating S. Morgenstern, he gave himself a shield. He could mock the tropes of the genre while simultaneously indulging in them.
- The interruptions: They act as a "B-plot."
- The historical footnotes: They build world-depth without actually requiring 500 pages of lore.
- The cynical tone: It makes the moments of "True Love" feel earned rather than cheesy.
The book explores Inigo Montoya’s backstory in a way the movie couldn't touch. We see years of him wandering, drinking, and obsessively training. We see the psychological toll of revenge. We see Fezzik’s childhood, where he was forced into fighting by parents who just wanted to make a living. It’s empathetic. It’s human.
The Enduring Legacy of the Text
The Princess Bride books occupy a strange space in the literary canon. They are frequently filed under "Young Adult," yet the commentary on mid-life crises and the bitterness of the publishing industry is clearly for adults. It’s a book that grows with you. You read it at ten for the swordfights; you read it at thirty for the heartbreak.
Goldman’s work teaches us that stories are things we inherit, things we change, and things we use to hide from the ugliness of the world. He didn't just give us Westley and Buttercup; he gave us the experience of being a reader.
How to Actually Read the Series
If you want to dive into this world properly, don't just look for a "sequel." Follow these steps:
- Get the 25th or 30th Anniversary Edition: These contain the most comprehensive "meta" content, including the introductions where Goldman talks about his fictional family and the "Buttercup's Baby" chapter.
- Read the introductions: Many people skip the first 30–50 pages of Goldman talking about his life in Hollywood. Don't. It’s essential for setting up the "hoax."
- Ignore the "Original" S. Morgenstern Search: Save yourself the time. You will find listings for it on sites like Goodreads or even library databases, but these are almost always joke entries or fans keeping the spirit of the book alive.
- Look for Goldman’s other work: To understand the sharp, witty prose of the Princess Bride books, read Adventures in the Screen Trade. It’s nonfiction, but it carries the same "the world is crazy" energy that defines his fiction.
The story of Westley and Buttercup is a classic, but the story of William Goldman "finding" the story is the real masterpiece. It’s a reminder that sometimes the best way to tell the truth is to lie through your teeth.
Actionable Insight: To truly appreciate the depth of the Princess Bride books, track down the "Silent End" version of the text often discussed in fan circles—it highlights the thematic difference between the "happily ever after" movie and Goldman’s more nuanced, realistic take on survival. If you're a writer, study the "interruption" technique Goldman uses; it's a masterclass in building an unreliable but lovable narrator.