Hello
Gentle Reader
My
apologies in advance my dear Gentle Reader, for the vitriolic sentiment which
soon spill fourth from my recently cleaned keyboard, cleared of the vomit which
had just inhabited a few hours prior.
Needless
to say, at 5:00am this morning, when I heard the news live from the Permanent
Secretary of the Swedish Academy Sara Danius lips themselves, I had the
impression and feeling that I had suddenly been kicked in the stomach. Had the
nightmare come true? In years past I vehemently claimed this same reality was:
never possible; never going to happen; that hell had a better chance of
freezing over. Hell now has certainly frozen over, and I am still whirling from
how definitive I was and thinking I was arrogantly right; to know how
disappointedly wrong I was and am. It is true Gentle Reader, Bob Dylan the singer the musician the “pop icon,”
today became a Nobel Laureate in Literature.
The
citation for Bob Dylan’s chosen Laureate status is as follows:
“for
having created new poetic expressions within the great tradition American song
tradition.”
However,
since the Nobel Prize for Literature’s announcement was delayed a week (due to
a mathematical detail) I was anxiously awaiting for today. This exciting day,
where once again a lucky writer would
receive the life changing phone call where they will be told they received a
certain: Nobel nod. I had high suspicions this year would be a poet. The last
poet being awarded in two-thousand and eleven with Tomas Tranströmer; and
through the prior decade (2000 – 2009) a sole poet was not awarded; though
three writers known for their plays and theatrical text did receive the Nobel
accolade: Gao Xingjian (200), Elfriede Jelinek (2004) and Harold Pinter (2005).
Throughout last night, I had high hopes for a poet to receive the phone call. I
entertained the thought of: Tua Forsström, Doris Kareva, Sirkka Turkka, though
had a slight understanding the likeliness of any of these poets to receive the
Nobel accolade, would be highly slim, as they are female. So the better chances
were: Adunis or Ko Un; and possibly Leonard Nolens. Yet on all accounts I was
wrong.
Last
year the Belorussian journalist and chronicler of the human experience:
Svetlana Alexievich became a Nobel Laureate, for being the human ear, and
documenting the plight of the Soviet soul, and chronicling a history of
emotions. In awarding the Nobel Prize for Literature to Svetlana Alexievich, it
became clear the Swedish Academy was beginning to broaden their horizons of
what is considered great contemporary Literature. Alexievich was unique because
of her literary mode of expression, but also because of her slim output and
bibliography. When she received the award however, it was a breath of fresh
air, but was bound to happen at some point in time or another.
This
year’s award with Bob Dylan is neither broadening the idea of literature; nor
is it a breath of fresh air. It’s a travesty. It’s a travesty; and a sign of
the weakening importance and presence that Literature
has with regards to the world. Many have been supportive and kind towards Bob
Dylan’s Nobel nod; the news has been over joyed with the announcement, stating
the singer and musician requires no introduction, and has been generously
playing his music. These same media outlets, are also elevating Bob Dylan
beyond his singer and musical status, and have put him into a new category as a
poet – however, the Swedish Academy has also decided to place the singer as a
poet before his musician status. Yet to be fair; Bob Dylan cannot be blamed for
this unfortunate event; he’s as much a causality as an ulcer, with regards to
the news. Bob Dylan himself did not nominate himself repeatedly for the prize;
not that he could as he does not meet the criteria. Furthermore if we recall
from years back, Bob Dylan’s nomination was a protest nomination, against
Horace Engdahl and his comments he made with regards to the literature of
America. Bob Dylan was and only ever should have been a simple protest
nomination. Why others or someone, in the literary community with the ability
to nominate chose to nominate a: musician who parades himself as a folk artist
and vagabond poet; who is in reality a populist icon of pop culture, and a
burnt out nostalgic hippie; for the most lucrative and prestigious literary prize in the world, is baffling
and asinine.
The
criticism outlaid by the former Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy, was
harsh and scathing in its critical dissertation of the state of American
literature; but not unjustly so. Though the comments could have used a spoonful
of sugar to help the medicine go down a bit, there was a lot of truth to the
remarks. First and foremost, English language readers and consumers do not
enjoy translated literary works; this is a simple observation in which Engdahl
mentioned the parochial reading habits of English language readers – he just
happened to word it in a more direct stance towards American readers and its literary
culture. Though I do not agree with Engdahl’s sentiments about insularity; he
did make a valid point with regards to a lack of translation and participation
in the larger literary world, and its exchange of ideas, ideals, and artistic
expression though literature. (Please note: Literature)
Eight
years later, it appears the academy is still grappling with the comments made
by Horace Engdahl prior; in which they were repeatedly under fire by critics for
a presumed or apparent: ‘Anti-American,’ sentiment; despite the sentiment
possibly not existing, and the plain reality and fact being: that perhaps there
was no American writer who was mature or refined enough or ready to receive the
Nobel accolade in comparison to other writes. Yet the Nobel nod for Bob Dylan
appears more of an appeasement or a panhandling towards these critics; a
pacifier of sorts to quiet down the rabble rousing and to prove that American
writers have not been black balled by the Swedish Academy or excluded from the
Nobel. Still the Nobel nod for Bob Dylan is more an insult then it is an
appeasement. Try as they may; the defenders will come to Bob Dylan’s defense,
and subsequently the Swedish Academy’s defense as well by supporting the
decision and the fact that his work transcends songs and singing, and has
become a sense of ‘oral poetry,’ put forward with music. What a pompous
statement. What a ludicrous thought. It’s an apologetic sentiment, which
passively aggressively denies the fact that Bob Dylan is not a writer and by
further extent not a poet!
Bob
Dylan’s now Nobel Laureate status is greater insult then it is blessing for a
few reasons. It brings into question the state of ‘poetry,’ in America or in
the English speaking language. So long, now to the ode, the sonnet, the
coupling and the limerick. They’ve been replaced with another form of expression;
a dear distant relative who happened to spring out of the wood work and decided
to takes its place alongside literature not as an equal but rather as being a
part of the canon itself. Music it seems, is now being harbingered by this decision
and its avatar Bob Dylan has overstepped its place as an expressive model,
where it is meant to be enjoyed in elevators, long car rides, sporting events,
dance halls, clubs and a multitude of other venues; but Literature? It is not
Literature, and should remember its place in the world of artistic models and
expressions. What a day of mourning for the future of poetry if this is what
its future holds.
Now
if Bob Dylan is the most worthy Nobel Laureate that America has been able to
produce since Toni Morrison won in 1993, then it must certainly be in an insult
to Philip Roth and Don DeLillo; and to a lesser degree Thomas Pynchon and Joyce
Carol Oates. It’s safe to say that John Updike is rolling in his grave along
with Jorge Luis Borges and Vladimir Nakabov.
This
being said, I am sure others would be more accepting or at the very least more
tolerant of this year’s award. I can only imagine Wisława Szymborska taking a
drag off her cigarette, and a sip of her coffee, before declaring with greater
grace then I am currently in possession of, that she’s delighted that poetry is
evolving but would have preferred: Ella Fitzgerald. Samuel Beckett, always up
for the irony of an occasion would most likely treat this blight with
indifference with a dry sarcastic remark, such as: “You wanted a surprise. Here
you go!” While Seamus Heaney and I suspect Tomas Tranströmer would accept the
award; Tranströmer perhaps the greater defendant of the musicality of poetry.
Yet through it all and on the contrary the musicality of poetry, comes from its
words, comes from its images, its emotions, its expressions – not the
instruments banged about around it!
Tim
Stanley with “The Telegraph,” best describes the train wreck of the day:
“Bob
Dylan has been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. Why not? If the Nobel
Committees can give a peace prize to Henry Kissinger then it can give a
literature prize to a man who hasn’t written any literature.
This
is not a question of taste. Bob Dylan is a great folk artist, maybe the
greatest alive. But the Nobel is supposed to be awarded not on the basis of
what the public likes (if it were, Doris Lessing wouldn’t have won it) but on
ability matched by idealism. Dylan has both, but his body of work falls far
short of that produced by past winners: Yeats, Gide, O’Neill, Solzhenitsyn etc.
The scale of their output and the thematic density of their texts outstrips
Dylan by light years. He is a dim star strumming a guitar; they are suns around
which we orbit. We are lucky enough to live among them today.”
Tim
Stanley is very much so correct. Bob Dylan is a faint star when compared to the
pantheon of past writers who include but are not limited to those listed, along
with: Herta Müller, Octavio Paz, and Wisława Szymborska. Bob Dylan is outshined
and cannot hold a candle to their torches, as they burn with great literary
intensity; as he is supported by the continual hot air of his music.
Tim
Stanley continues with greater insight and further agreeable comments:
“If
the Committee wanted an American then it could have chosen Don DeLillo, Philip
Roth or even – why not? – Thomas Pynchon. It did not have to make this choice.
So why did it? Nostalgia. Politics. To please the crowd. To name someone who
would shatter the Committee’s reputation for intellectual snobbery – a
reputation that it only has among those uninterested in literature. It’s like
worrying that the Davis Cup is too closely associated with tennis. And if
popularising the prize is the aim, then why not Leonard Cohen or Paul
McCartney? Why not Debbie Harry, who crazy folk think invented rap? Moreover,
why popularise a prize which isn’t elected but chosen by the knowledgeable on
the basis of achievement? This is the Nobel Prize for Literature. Not Sweden’s
Got Talent.”
It
is a horrifying sentiment to think, the Swedish Academy is trying to distance
itself from perceived intellectual snobbery or cultural superiority in favour
of impressing and gaining favour with a grander public, who until today did not
know who Alfred Nobel was (or the Swedish Academy) and what the Nobel Prize for
Literature was.
Now
the best is certainly saved for last, as Tim Stanely laments the mortification
of the state of Literature and what precedence this leaves the prize in and its
terrible legacy:
“Ah,
but this is where we are in cultural terms. Distinction is gone; discrimination
is a dirty word. Egality is in. Emotion is in. Nothing matters unless it sells.
But anyone celebrating the death of quality – anyone imagining that the
elimination of elitism leads inexorably to justice – should be very wary of
what they wish for. A culture that gives Bob Dylan a literature prize is a
culture that nominates Donald Trump for president. It is a culture uninterested
in qualifications and concerned only with satisfying raw emotional need. There
is pandering on the Left and pandering on the Right. It becomes very hard to
engage on the basis of reason because reason is discriminatory. It requires
thought and effort not only to use it but to understand it. Much, much easier
to go with your gut. It’s not a huge leap from saying “Dylan because I like
him” to “Trump because I feel like him.” It's all lowbrow.”
Where
Tim Stanely states: “discrimination is a dirty word.” Couldn’t be more to the
point. Yes its true discrimination is a nasty term in today’s world. Wherever
we look discrimination is lambasted in some form or another; but does this mean
we must compromise and accommodate on all subjects? Yes its true discrimination
based on ethnicity, skin colour, sexual preference, gender, age or whether or
not one prefers cats or dogs (heaven forbid you prefer bird or fish; and don’t
let anyone get started on your preference for dust bunnies); but the truth is
discriminatory practices are not entirely evil in their intent. There must be
some critical evaluation based on some merit, especially when it comes to the
arts. Writing and literature are completely different from their cousins such
as dance, acting, and music; and completely foreign to sculpting and painting.
But it would not be fair to call any of them one or the other. Now these forms
may have overlaps: such as a dancer and actor or a musician/singer being
considered performers; or a writer writing the dialogue for a play in which an
actor brings to life; or the written words for a song to be sung; they are
still separate by their expressive means, and their distinct classifications
for how they are separate. Yet distinction has been tossed to the wind; while
society apparently favours emotional resonance and a sense of egalitarianism
with regards to the arts. Apparently it has been deemed fit we must break down
the barriers of what distinctly defines each art form, so that each may share
in the others glory; despite the lack of interest in the qualifications and
differences of each one in comparison. No matter though, it needs to be done.
Tim
Stanely goes on to state the obvious, that he will be called snobbish, fogey,
as well as elitist. And so he may; but those are not criticisms or knives to
stab or harm; those words my dear Gentle Reader, those are badges to be worn
with honour on such a dreadful occasion. In daily life, in mundane existence we
are humbled, modest, and are expected to remain beneath the polite yoke of
these attitudes in order not to have a sense of superiority over anyone else.
Yet if it is one thing Literature has gifted those who read Literature in its
true pure and merited form, it is it allows a sense of cultural elitism, a
sense of superiority beyond the typical dime store novels, penny dreadfuls,
mass market paperbacks, and the overtly saturated market of a dime a dozen
formulated novels. It allows us the sense we may go beyond the masses and achieve
something more obscure, but bright, more recent, more alarming, and more
refined. The Nobel Prize for Literature, up and until this point has bridged
worlds, languages, and writers by bringing the obscure to the lime light.
Without the Nobel Prize for Literature, I suspect Orhan Pamuk, Herta Müller,
Patrick Modiano, Wisława Szymborska, Elfriede Jelinek – and so on; would have
passed me by and I would have missed out on some of the greatest literature and
writers I have had the pleasure of devouring. Yet now amongst these great
writers and poets, a musician and singer has been uncomfortably added to their
pantheon with great controversy; and there is plenty to be displeased and
abashed about.
One
can only wonder with the inclusive nature of the most prestigious Literary
award in the world, will the music industry and its ‘pop idol,’ awards be
equally as accepting now of writers? May we see Stephen King placed in the Rock
n Roll hall of fame? Will the late Wisława Szymborska be gifted with a Grammy?
Perhaps Elfriede Jelinek will walk away with a Polar Music Prize (often
considered the Nobel Prize for Music). The truth: I sincerely doubt it.
Detractors,
literary puritans (or puritanical literary readers, as some would claim) of
this years Nobel Prize for Literature, see the disappointment of this year’s
Prize. It has gone to an individual undeserving of the award, because his work
is not Literature. He is a musician, and a cheese grater vocalist – not a writer.
His songwriting capabilities do not constitute him as an oral poet, no more
than my grocery lists constitute me as a flash fiction writer or a short story
writer; my e-mails do not make me a playwright; this blog does not make me a
journalist. But by all accounts, it where to seem they can be considered
literary in some form or another, now by this redefining idea of what
Literature is, and what constitutes as a literary method leaning towards an
ideal direction. Yet the irritation of this year’s award does not just come
down to the debate of whether or not Bob Dylan’s work is considered literary or
poetry (oral or otherwise). The irritation and frustration comes down to the
entire circumstances, the history, and the main himself.
First
and foremost, as already discussed its hotly being debated all over the
internet on whether or not Bob Dylan’s music and songs can be considered poetry
in any sense of the defined word. I have made my opinion quite clear on the
matter, and take the side that: no, Bob Dylan does not come close to being
considered a poet, in a true literary defied sense of the term or genre.
Second,
the circumstances surrounding Bob Dylan has already been discussed, in how his
nomination was first and foremost a protest nomination. Though no one ever
thought the protest would ever end in this manner, in which case he would
receive the Nobel Laureate status and the prize money that goes along with it,
not to mention the gold medal in which he will receive in December. Bob Dylan’s
nomination was merely a protest, in which American academics and philistine
public felt they were snubbed and looked over in favour of more obscure writers
– without realizing these obscure writers were just as deserving as any more
well-known writer. Bob Dylan as much as I found him a perennial speculated pain
in the ass, I never gave him any more attention than necessary, and never
thought his protest nominations would be taken any more seriously than
required. Then again if I sat on the Swedish Academy, his nominations would
have been properly filed in the waste basket.
The
third and final aspect. The man himself. Though it pains me to say it, Bob
Dylan’s greatest detraction is himself. Bob Dylan is world renowned. He is
famous, he is presumed rich. He is a celebrity. What more can the Nobel Prize
for Literature do for the man? What more help would he require? There are more
serious writers out there, who have had a greater impact on literature then Bob
Dylan does. Bob Dylan’s legacy should and will only be (as far as I am
concerned) his lasting influence on pop culture and subsequent musicians,
rather than any (or rather no) contribution to literature. Yet, it is
completely unfair to solely vilify Bob Dylan in a decision in which he was not
privy to. As already stated he is as much victim as he is ulcer in these
circumstances, and cannot be blamed for a decision made for him, rather than by
him. Bob Dylan’s qualities of his work, and his music should be recognized –
and have been recognized; with numerous awards including the Polar Music Award
(The Nobel Prize for Music) in the year 2000; while his lasting influence
should be reserved for his impact on pop culture; seeing as he has no literary
merit (at least in my perspective) which would constitute his newly crowned
Nobel status. His global stature, and celebrity renowned cannot be held against
him either; but they should have worked against him. There are writers and
poets who have less to show for their ‘starvation,’ for their literary mode of
expression, and have contributed more merit and worth to the field of poetry
then Bob Dylan has or at this point will. Adunis for example, is noted for
completely reshaping the scope and thematic work of Arabic poetry during the
twentieth century. His poetry spearheaded a modernist revolution for Arabic
poetry; and yet this is overshadowed by a civil war, and now Bob Dylan’s
influence over popular culture.
If
we were to look for a poet or any writer at this point more deserving and less
known, yet in need and justifiable in the receiving the Nobel accolade we do
not need to look any further with a compilation of the list to follow:
Living
writers:
Adunis
– Syria
Ko
Un – (South) Korea
Kim
Hyesoon – (South) Korea
Moon
Chung-hee – (South) Korea
Bei
Dao – China
Y
Nhi – Vietnam
Leonard
Nolens – Belgium
Doris
Kareva – Estonia
Kiki
Dimoula – Greece
Sirkka
Turkka – Finland
Tua
Forsström – Finland (language Swedish)
Shuntaro
Tanikawa – Japan
Adam
Zagajewski – Poland
Anne
Carson – Canada
Ferreira
Gullar – Brazil
Deceased
writers:
Mohamed
Darwish – Palestine
Simin
Behbahani – Iran
Anna
Akhmatova – Russia
Bella
Akhmadulina – Russia
Marina
Tsvetayeva – Russia
Dulce
María Loynaz – Cuba
As
already mentioned Adunis helped to spearhead a modernization movement for
Arabic poetry; the same way T.S. Eliot began to introduce newer methods of
poetic expression with his poetry. Adunis as a poet of peace, who truly
believes poetry can help quell the Syrian civil war and its raging hatred and
fire, should be duly noted; along with his sole shouldering of Arabic poetry
and trying to get it outside of the Arabic world.
Ko
Un, rarely requires an introduction to seasoned Nobel speculators, observers,
and readers. He is known for his prolific output, and his detainment because of
his calls for democratic reforms in during (South) Korea’s moral dictatorship.
Since being released, Ko Un has been a driving force for Korean poetry – but
ironically not well read (or liked apparently) in his home country.
Continuing
with the (South) Korea poet Ko Un, there are two feminist poets which need to
be discussed: Kim Hyesoon and Moon Chung-hee. Both poets are noted for their
strong views of the woman’s place in (South) Korean society, and how they rebel
against the traditional roles of women, as being either, daughter, mother,
grandmother – or whore. Moon Chung-hee was considered one of the first female
writers to discuss and view the world from a feminine perspective; she wrote of
love and its loss; of dreadful loneliness, and existential problems in which
women face. Her newly acquired perspective of the feminine on the world, opened
the ways for female writers in (South) Korea to discuss their subject matter,
and perspectives. Kim Hyesoon on the other hand, would be considered
‘radically,’ feminist. Her poetry is virally, vicious, and visceral. In it a
surreal juxtaposition of images raddles around, which display how women in
(South) Korea are objective and subjected to male chauvinism and thought. Her
poetry has influenced numerous generations of female poets.
Bei
Dao, has been considered a Nobel contender for a many years now. His poetry is
often considered ambiguous and oblique. However the ambiguity of his poetry has
often been noted to evade censorship and be critical of the Communist regime in
China. Yet his poetry is both beautiful and enlightening, like a complex puzzle
which requires thought, dedication, and an open perspective in order to
appreciate and understand his poetry and the world it has been influenced and
shaped by.
Kiki
Dimoula is one of Greece’s national treasures. She is a poet of candid and
frank honesty, which she displays in her strict economically minimal poems. In
her court she does not suffer fools kindly, and she bluntly states the required
viewpoints which need to be expressed. She is considered the greatest female
poet of Greece since Sappho; and much like her ancient brethren she is widely
read and regarded for her poetic capabilities. Though do not look towards Kiki
Dimoula for poetic pyrotechnics; but rather a strict lace of words which
discuss oblivion, death and fading memories, in a world rushing by.
If
the Swedish Academy wished to show how innovative poets, and their poetry is
becoming in a increasingly less tolerant world of poetry: Anne Carson would
have fit the bill. Her poetry is often perplexing, and most poetry scholars
would not call her unique brand of work poetry. Her work is often a combination
of poetry, non-fiction, scholarly work, and retelling of myths. All wrapped up
in perplexing format, which baffles and confuses critics and readers alike;
often putting her in the fringe part of the literary world, because of her
often unique display of her interests.
As
for the deceased poets, there were many who went without a Nobel nod, without
the prestige of the accolade, and did not receive a wider audience because of
it. May they not roll in their grave.
Mohamed
Darwish, was a national poet of Palestine before his death in two-thousand and
eight; and considering the volatility of the region (in particular the
complicated relationship between Palestine and Israel) was most likely a
defining reason as to why he did not receive the Nobel nod. Despite this
however, Darwish was a marvel of a poet. His work dealt with the exile and
dissolution of his homeland, and often compared it to the removal of mankind
from the Garden of Eden. Despite being engulfed and engrossed in the politics
of his home region, Darwish was still a poet first, and a politically active
poet second. He was a poet of political action, through the action of poetry.
He discussed the state of homelessness, dissolution of a past gone, and the
anguish of exile with frank honesty. He spoke to a generation of people about
their daily existential crisis, and their unfortunate political situation.
Mohamed Darwish was first and foremost a poet of freedom and of democracy, and
criticized Hamas, and the destruction of his Palestine. He was beloved by the
people, and was a poet of great action, through his poetry, showing poetry
could change, inspire, and invigorate the populace for something better, and
achieve it.
The
Soul of the Silver Age, Anna Akhmatova, herself was a profound and striking
voice for Russia during a period of transition from autocracy to
totalitarianism. Her success during the early years was short lived. Her poetry
was considered to introspective and possessed an aesthetic which was considered
bourgeoisie, and therefore was considered antirevolutionary. She would later
suffer; as her son would be constantly imprisoned on grounds of
counter-revolutionary activities, her son was also denied access to study in
educational institutes because of his parents. Yet the soul of the silver age,
wrote on, and her poems were secretly distributed, but in typical Stalinist
fashion she would be observed, bugged, spied on, and watched – a 900 hundred
page report would be complied on her. Yet despite the threat of arrest, gulag
imprisonment, exile, or execution; Akhmatova remained a mentor to younger
poets, in particular Joseph Brodsky (Nobel Laureate 1987). She never found the
success she had in her early career, but after her death, and the thaw she once
again received her place in the poetry of Russia, and being considered one of
the greats. She however, was dispassionately denied the Nobel Prize for
Literature, in favour of Mikhail Sholokhov. No matter, the Soul of the Silver
Age would stay would once again be resurrected, in her revitalization of her
poetry.
There
can be no great compliment in my mind then being referred to as the Lioness of
Poetry, as is the case of the Iranian poet Simin Behbahani. Simin Behbahani
would be considered a poetic prodigy; her first poetry collection was published
when she was fourteen years old, and she started to write poetry at the age of
twelve. She is noted for having produced some of the greatest works of Persian
poetry in the twentieth century; both in traditional Persian forms, as well as
ghazal style of poetry. Her themes were love and loss, but also political in
their dissent and dissertation of her volatile country and its political
upheaval. Throughout most of her she was considered untouchable by political
powers, but in two-thousand and ten the nearly blind poet, was detained when
she tried to board a plane for Paris, and was interrogated all night long.
Beyond her poetry she was a fearless advocate, specifically for women’s rights;
and she too wrote in a greater ideal direction.
If
the Swedish Academy was at a loss for poets for this year, above are plenty. I
find it difficult to imagine, that this year the Swedish Academy did not have
an overt abundance of suitable candidates. There must have been Jon Fosse, Ngũgĩ
wa Thiong'o, Adunis – among many other great writers. It would be better to go
towards a more obvious choice, then this travesty. Four years ago, Mo Yan
became the Nobel Laureate in Literature of 2012, that pill was a difficult one
to swallow; but not impossible. Though I refrain from reading Mo Yan’s work,
and respecting him on the same level as other writers of a greater caliber;
this my dear Gentle Reader, this is . . . a pill that cannot be swallowed let
alone placed within my mouth, as my teeth are clenched shut, my lips pursed;
and if it did magically find its way down my esophagus and into my stomach, it
would not be digested, as such news cannot be.
This
award may have been meant as an unholy marriage between music and literature; I
would love to see it annulled immediately! We may think in today’s world the
ideas of highbrow and lowbrow artistic modes of expression have been done away
with, and no such divide between the upstairs and downstairs exists. Well if it
no longer exists, it should exist, for this exact reason. How appropriate is it
to call a singer and musician a writer? Consider the following ‘poem,’ (and I use
that word describing the following piece of text loosely, and with great
sarcasm) by Bob Dylan:
‘Wiggle
Wiggle,’
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle like a gypsy queen
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle all dressed in green
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle till the moon is blue
Wiggle
till the moon sees you.
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle in your boots and shoes
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle you got nothing to loose
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle like a swarm of bees
Wiggle
on your hands and knees.
Wiggle
to the front wiggle to the rear
Wiggle
till you wiggle right out of here
Wiggle
till it opens wiggle till it shuts
Wiggle
till it bites wiggle till it cuts.
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle like a bowl of soap
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle like a rolling hoop
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle like a ton of lead
Wiggle
you can raise the dead.
Wiggle
till you're high wiggle till you're higher
Wiggle
till you vomit fire
Wiggle
till it whispers wiggle till it hums
Wiggle
till it answers wiggle till it comes.
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle like satin and silk
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle like a pail of milk
Wiggle
wiggle wiggle all rattle and shake
Wiggle
like a big fat snake !
I
am so impressed Gentle Reader, with the direction poetry is moving forward in the world. I
mean this is a startling piece of poetic achievement. Truly. (please note that is sarcasm)
Highbrow
art though has existed for the above reason. That ‘poem,’ does not withstand
the sun like radiance of poets past. It does not contain the intelligent irony
of Wisława Szymborska. It does not have the sensual romance, which can be found
in Pablo Neruda, when writes his poems for his wife. It does not contain the
marvel and observations and lyrical intensity of Joseph Brodsky. The only thing
in which I could discern from the said ‘poem,’ is that it is advisable that I
‘wiggle,’ though I do confess, my slight fear that if I do ‘wiggle,’ as
instructed, I’ll end up making a fool of myself and end up jiggling like a bowl
of Jell-O rather than a ‘big fat snake.’
May
we bring back the distinction between Highbrow literature and its literary
merit; and the lowbrow works of literary expression, and keep the divide strong
and equal. The precedence set makes one wonder and worry that soon the great ‘American
Poet,’ Miley Cyrus will soon fly into the Swedish Academy on a wrecking ball! May
we shut the doors, and kill this in the crib now, and hopefully the Swedish
Academy will not award any further musicians in the future. Bob Dylan's supposed poetry
requires him to singing it, therefore loosing itself in greater scope and dialogue
of literature, because it just does not translate as well either on paper, or
most likely in another language.
To
quote Rich Smith and his article from “The Stranger,”:
“Dylan
is a great songwriter, but he's not a poet. Poets don’t get instruments. Poets
don’t get a drum, and good poets often avoid one when offered.”
Which
he further elucidates with the following reasoning of what separates a poet
from a singer:
“Poets
have to find music in the language itself and arrange that music in meaningful
ways on the page. That is very hard to do, and it's a different task entirely
from the act of writing a song.”
I
couldn’t agree more with Rich Smith, in how lyrics of a song and a poem differ.
A poem is completed on a blank piece of paper, and its only source of
musicality is to be found in the language itself, not through the assistance and
amplifications of instruments, to further enhance the poem or its poetic
context. If this is the future of poetry though, songs and pop culture, then
the art form was better off being locked in the ivory tower, leaving readers to
be chilled by its presence, and unaware of its unique correspondence of air, in
which they are not privy to. At least the extinction of poetry, poems, and the
poet would have been more graceful more literary, more highbrow, then what is
currently being expected of the mode of expression, and how mighty it has
fallen. Even if some would say back to its ‘roots.’ Yet its roots have greater
merit, greater literary importance, then they are currently being given credit
for, with this example. It’s a pity to think the Nobel Prize for Literature, receives a wart on
its record; a blemish on its face; a blight in its history thanks to an
American singer and musician who has been paraded as some folk artist hero, a vagabond
poet belting out earthly tunes on his harmonica and strumming the air with his
guitar; but in reality is a nostalgia stricken, burned out, has been hippie;
whose significance and influence is more on pop
culture then it is on literature and
the genre of poetry.
Oh
Swedish Academy . . . you’ll have a lot of years to make up for this. A lot of
years, to get the prize back on its golden age tracks, before this unfortunate slight
can be forgiven. Though I think most of us literary puritan readers are
understanding towards decisions unexpected and surprising, we do expect some
justice, and some lesson to be learned. Perhaps for future notice, if you
decide to award a obscure literary art form which has been overlooked by the Nobel
in years past; perhaps Children’s literature would be more reasonable then
awarding a musician a literary award, in which he has no literary merits or
understanding; and where he does transcends if he transcends his musician
status and enters the field of poetry, I don’t see it justifying this year’s
decision.
For
the New Generation of young people, who just discovered the Nobel Prize for
Literature, because of the philistine coverage and sharing of this year’s
Laureate: may you roll yourself a joint, pack your harmonica, pick up your
bags, jump on a rail car and travel across America. But please don’t forget your
smartphone, so you may take your selfies, and listen to this years ‘oral poet.’
This
my Dear Gentle Reader, is my dissent against this year’s Nobel nod. It’s neither
warranted nor deserved. Quite a devastating disaster. But there is always next year Gentle Reader. Perhaps next year will be better. Be it a more welcoming
surprise; and not a musician or a pop icon or pop culture antique.
Thank-you
For Reading Gentle Reader
Take
Care
And
As Always
Stay
Well Read
M.
Mary
For
other articles and those referenced here about this year’s Bob Dylan disaster,
please see the following links:
And for a unique and
lively discussion, stop by the World Literature Forum, and see what they have
to say. There is plenty of detraction as there is support, for this years decision.
