Post-Nobel Prize for Literature Thoughts 2016

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:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016/10/13/a-world-that-gives-bob-dylan-a-nobel-prize-is-a-world-that-nomin/

http://www.mensjournal.com/entertainment/articles/the-case-against-bob-dylans-nobel-prize-win-w444724

http://www.thestranger.com/slog/2016/10/13/24619993/bob-dylan-doesnt-deserve-the-nobel-prize-in-literature-and-he-shouldnt-want-it

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.