The Birdcage Archives

Monday 10 August 2020

Announcement: Nobel Prize in Literature 2020 Speculation List


Hello Gentle Reader


Introduction


Summer is beginning to burn off as August insinuates autumn right around the corner. Gradually the light shifts to a new perspective, and a new season, with autumn right around the corner. Of course, come autumn, comes one of the high lights of the literary year: The Nobel Prize for Literature. As in years past Gentle Reader, in the coming days my annual Nobel Prize for Literature Speculation List will be posted.

Here are the quick stats of the current speculation list:

86 writers are included on this year’s speculation list.
35 writers are female.
51 writers are male.

Writers by Geographical Area –

Africa – 12
North Africa & Middle East – 11
Europe – 33
Australia & Oceania – 1
Asia & the Indo-Subcontinent – 18
South & Latin America; Including the Caribbean – 11          

I’d like to point for this year’s stats, that over the past few weeks, I’ve attempted to make the list more manageable. I’ve removed writers, who I saw as just being ‘filler,’ and have tried to procure more new and exciting names, for the list who have a reasonable shot at the prize as any other. That is why you will notice a significant drop in numbers, and why some writers are no longer included on the list. There are of course those who you cannot deny; while others who have been speculated about for years, and even decades who have not received the prize yet, are more then likely not going to receive it now.

Speaking of the stats for this years Nobel Prize for Literature Speculation List; one of you my Gentle Readers, Till, had done some research into some of the writers who were inducted onto last years short list, and left a comment

One of you my Gentle Readers, did some research into some of the writers who were inducted on last years shortlist, and left a comment regarding the recent average from Wikipedia, regarding the popularity of European writers that had appeared on the European Section of last year’s Nobel Prize for Literature Speculation List. The numbers reflect a daily average over a three-month period, and are listed from high (most popular) to low (less popular):



László Krasznahorkai (127),                                 Dimitris Lyacos (14), 
Annie Ernaux (121),                                             Jaan Kaplinski (13), 
Javier Marias (92),                                                Kjell Askildsen (10),,
Mircea Cărtărescu (50),                                        Durs Grunbein (9)
Cees Nooteboom (47),                                          Ana Luisa Amaral (6),
Jon Fosse (44),                                                      Vladislav Bajac (4),
Antonio Lobo Antunes (39),                                 Magdalena Tulli (4), 
Lyudmila Petrushevskaya (31),                             Doris Kareva (3), 
Adam Zagajewski (31),                                         Henrik Nordbrandt (3),
Claudio Magris (29),                                             Ersi Sotiropoulos (3),
Dag Solstad (26),                                                   Ryszard Krynicki (3),
Fleur Jaeggy (23),                                                 Viivi Luik (3),
Mikhail Shishkin (20),                                          Sirrka Turkka (2),
Peter Nadas (19),                                                  Leonard Nolens (1),
Drago Jancar (17),                                                Jon Kalman Stefansson (1)
Petr Krall (16),
Pierre Michon (16),




It comes as no surprise to see László Krasznahorkai at the top of the list. For years, Krasznahorkai’s reputation has grown internationally, gaining immediate readership and popularity in the English language. Over the past years, the Hungarian Master of the Apocalypse has been considered a front runner for the Nobel Prize for Literature. His prose is first class, continually pushing literature to reach new elevated heights, and contemplate new perspectives.

On the heels of László Krasznahorkai is the French memoirist and social critic, Anne Ernaux Ernaux has only recently gained attention and acclaim in the English language with the publication of her de facto masterpiece: “The Years.” Ernaux is one of the great practionioners of the ‘Autofiction,’ literary narrative, but moves it away from any histrionics and self-absorbed conceited nature of an otherwise melodramatic and doomed narrative, to take greater concern and predications towards societal perspectives and progressions from the personal and private vantage point.

On the contrary, however, it is disappointing to see other writers who sit on the low hanging branches of the list, such as Doris Kareva. The Estonian poet is a stylist in the purist form; through condensed and minimal brevity, Kareva relays unparalleled emotional examination of the human experience. Despite this, Doris Kareva has a limited exposure in the English language, made even more alienating considering she’s a poet. Despite this, and not being a natural reader of poetry myself; I’ve found what I’ve read by Kareva contemplative, difficult, but engaging nonetheless, and to see her recognition so low and limited on the list is disheartening. The same is said with the Finish poet Sirkka Turkka, whom I have a quiet adoration for. When I’ve read what is scantly available of this oracle of animals and nature, I became enchanted with her simple, yet gracefully wise poems due to their simplicity. Turkka is not a pretentious poet, who blares and demands her work be heard echoing down the marble halls of divine pomp and ceremony. She is by far earthlier, then she is celestial; immediate then she is metaphysical. Her poetry is natural and conversational in tone; never pontificating with pomp and exacting demands as those archaic English poets now past. It is this simple, conversation, and universal connection through poetic communication that makes Sirkka Turkka so endearing. The fact that these two poets are so far down the list, does not discourage any sense of advocacy I have for them, but rather strengthens the resolve that they should be promoted, advertised, and admired, hopefully gaining the curiosity of any casual on-looker or reader.


Reading the Room—


Over the past couple of years, controversy has continually dogged the Swedish Academy. These controversies range from questionable decisions, such as naming lacking qualified laureates; to maintain the company of what would be known as a serial sexual offender, who used his own position with the academy, and his wife’s position to solicit grants and funding from the institution, but also break the academy’s statutes of silence, and leak the names of Nobel Prize Laureates in advance. Throughout out it all, the Swedish Academy remained impenetrable. It only conceited consultation and counsel through threatened punitive action from the Nobel Foundation itself. With the Nobel Prize postponed for a year, two-thousand and nineteen was supposed to be year of redemption, with the Nobel Prize for Literature of two-thousand and eighteen being retroactively named alongside the two-thousand and nineteen Laureate. There were concessions in place; but overall, as far as the Swedish Academy was concerned: it was back to normal business.  They announced the two Laureates, but immediately broiled themselves into another scandal.

When Peter Handke was announced as the Nobel Laureate in Literature for two-thousand and nineteen, the calls were divided between praise and criticism. Personally, I looked at the decision to award Peter Handke with muted indifference—though it was a surprise. Handke after all had been a controversial literary figure for many years prior. He had criticized the Nobel Prize for Literature as being irrelevant; then there are of course his famous statements where he sought to absolve (if not entirely defend) the actions of Serbians during the Yugoslav Wars and subsequent genocide of Bosnian-Muslims during the nineteen-nineties. On the flipside, others praise the decision to award Peter Handke; after all he is one of the most prominent German language writers of the late Twentieth Century. Despite this, I personally find Peter Handke one of those critically acclaimed, but overrated and bland writers. After another attempt with one of his novels, Handke failed to thrill or impress me. Awarding, Peter Handke the Nobel Prize for Literature, a mere year after it had pulled itself from the oozing tar of scandal, only proved that the Swedish Academy fails to read the room.

Peter Handke’s controversy unfortunately eclipsed the retroactive laureate for the previously postponed year: Olga Tokarczuk. While the attention was fixated on Peter Handke and his otherwise questionable manner of his politics, Olga Tokarczuk went among the usual duties expected of a Nobel Laureate: giving the lecture, banquet speech, and responding to request for interviews. Over the years, Olga Tokarczuk had been named as a candidate for the Nobel Prize for Literature, though easy to dismiss due to her age, and lack of translation and reception in the English language. Then in two-thousand and seventeen Tokarczuk’s cards changed. With the publication of “Flights,” and winning the Man Booker International Prize, Olga Tokarczuk went on to finally get her overdue recognition and acceptance in the English language, with future translations expected and forthcoming.

Peter Handke by all accounts was a surprising decision, and to be blunt a disappointing one. On the contrary Olga Tokarczuk was a redeeming choice, though overshadowed by the controversial cloud that Handke brought with him. There is some hope that whoever the Swedish Academy chooses as the first Nobel Laureate in Literature of the decade, will be a deserving surprise. As it stands the current social and political leaves an apprehensive taste in one’s mouth. Societies throughout the world are demanding greater social justice, reforms, and progressive attitudes towards all members of society, especially those based around the notion of ethnicity and race. Thanks to the action of four inept police officers in the spring, who killed an Africa-American man during an arrest (and have now been charged with murder and awaiting trial), movements have materialized to protest police brutality, social inequality, and systematic racism. This brutal act of negligence ignited the suppressed rage of the people and became the tipping point which demands a change in perspective and treatment.

It is doubtful that the Swedish Academy will be swayed by the current political and social movements as they work through their shortlist and begin the process of discussing and debating who will be named the Nobel Laureate in Literature for two-thousand and twenty. As the Swedish Academy has proved before: they are rarely interested in reading a room, and even less concerned with matters of social movements, when discussing the qualifying qualities of a Nobel Laureate. It would seem a writer’s political commentary, personal opinions, and social perspectives rarely take any priority with the Swedish Academy. If that were case, Laureates such as: Peter Handke, Mo Yan, and Mikhail Sholokhov may not have made the cut.  This is not to state that literature has no place in shaping or expanding the idea of politics, or political theory, or being a caustic social critic. Great writers are more engaged with societal concerns, and resisting political injustice, by promoting matters of freedom of speech; or presenting archaic and barbaric social norms with acerbic actuality, that inspires contemplation and reflection; while other times they recount, record, and document the brutality of failed tyrannical systems, all the while presenting the undying resilient spirit of the individual. At its core, however, the Nobel Prize for Literature is a literary award, one concerned with the highest pursuits of literary value and merit. This will mean any political or social goals, perspective, or commentary will always be secondary or tertiary, in evaluation and assessment.


A COVID Ceremony—


It is not just the current volatile socio-political climate that has monitored. Since early this year, the Novel Coronavirus (COVID-19) has taken the world by storm. It is a pandemic that caused societal lock downs, economic shutdowns; brought overdue attention to failed medical and health systems; and of course, has taken many lives while infecting others. Throughout the world heath protocols have been put in place to reduce and mitigate its spread; such as the use of non-medical masks in indoor public spaces, physical/social distancing protocols, and repeat encouragement to either stay home or legislated quarantines. Over the early months and weeks, horror stories were told throughout the world. Hospital overrun, doctors forced to make critical decisions regarding who was to receive treatment and who was to receive comfort and compassionate care. Stories of how people were isolated in apartments with dead relatives; the pandemic did nothing but bring to societal attention how inadequate and ill-equipped it was to handle such an infectious disaster. The virus became a staunch reminder of how our global interconnected attitude, also carries healthcare challenges.

The Nobel Ceremony and Banquet, which is held annually on December 10th; is one of the biggest social and intellectual events in Sweden. It’s a ceremony saturated in ritual, pomp, and pageantry. The banquet is held in the Blue Hall of the Stockholm City Hall, and hosts around 1300 people; which includes the inducted Laureates and the Swedish Royal Family. It’s a lavish affair that seeks to celebrate the achievements of all the Laureates in their fields be it: science, literature, and economics; the peace prize of course is celebrated in Oslo, Norway.

With the rise of the virus and the concerns for public health, it was decided by the Nobel Foundation that the banquet will be cancelled for the health and safety of all expected and potential attendees. This is the first time the Nobel Ceremony and Banquet has been called since 1956. Despite the cancellation, the awarding institutions intended to announce and proclaim the decided Nobel Laureates for the year. It will be curious to see how announcements will look in October; as well if Nobel Lectures will be conducted and presented via recordings or over streaming services. It is slightly disappointing to think that the Laureates for this year will not be able to celebrate their achievements in the Blue Hall, surrounded in splendor. Where else—or when else—are scientists and writers, treated to such pomp, ceremony, and pageantry? When else are they surrounded in the glitz and glamour—if only for one night—to celebrate their accomplishments, their discoveries, their work in their respective fields, for the betterment of humanity. This loss of the lavish banquet and ceremony is by all accounts a complete a loss, to these successful, gifted, and intelligent people. Still may their accomplishments, their discoveries, and their work be praised for all its worth.


The New Generation—


Throughout the world new writers are rising to great prominence, where they rival their predecessors: the old masters. This true in any case, in any discipline. New writers bring with them ideas, innovation, and changing perspectives and themes. The poets that came in the waning years of T.S. Eliot, or W.H. Auden—bared no resemblance to these two previous poets. Just as the predecessors of Sylvia Plath or Ted Hughes, wanted no comparison to their work. They want their own identity. They want their literary work to be measured on their own merits. Comparisons and contrast will always be utilized by critics, as it provides readers an anchor and a focal point in which to take stock of a new writer’s work. All the while, their work should be considered truly their own. Just look at the works of Yasunari Kawabata, Yukio Mishima, Kenzaburo Ōe, and Haruki Murakami. These four writers could not be any different from each other, yet the contrast and the comparison between them will always be used as the lens in, which others are evaluated and introduced to each other. Yet over the years, we have seen an increased interest in translated literature, and international literature. The following list are but a few writers, who I’ve selected as ‘The New Generation,’ up and coming writers who have made an international impact, and have as much as any potential to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, as those who are included on this years speculation list. Of course Gentle Reader, I’d like to reaffirm this, the following writers are based off personal taste and opinion, and by no means are they a reflection of the perspective of the Swedish Academy; nor do I profess that they have any higher or greater chance of being considered for the Nobel Prize for Literature, then any other writer.

The first two writers that begin this ‘New Generation,’ list, come from (South) Korea. Over the past few years, the South Korean government has worked hard to ensure that their literature is more accessible and available in other languages via an increased funding towards translation. Two of these writers who have benefited from this initiative are: Han Kang and Bae Suah, who have risen through the torrid of translated writers, and become two most well-known literary writers at work in the Korean language.


Han Kang – (South) Korea – Since winning the International Booker Prize with her novel “The Vegetarian,” Han Kang’s international success was sealed with the stamp of approval, and the recognition in the English language was secured. Since then, Hang Kang has contributed to the Future Library Project, and two more of her novels have been translated into English. Han Kang’s literary work are noted for their gentle and penetrating emotionally searing psychological portraits of characters. The gentle lyricism of her work, is exceptionally poignantly, gentle, as it is it is wistful. The narratives are tightly control and narrated, with attention paid more closely towards the psychological portraits of the characters, as they respond to external events; or seek to recover from external events beyond their control. Interest appears to play towards trauma—be it political (or macro) and the personal (or micro)—in her work. This can specifically be seen in her novels: “Human Acts,” a macro-oriented novel regarding how different individuals over the course of time, are affected and handle the Gwangju Uprising and Massacre, and its aftermath. The novel never becomes concerned with describing the gore and gruesome details of those already caught in the military’s crossfire, as it seeks to end the uprising. Though details are recounted, they are mentioned with enough force to make the impact, before the concern is moved towards the living. The most beautiful chapter of the book will always be that of a son’s soul escaping the burning bodies, and searching for home, in order to say goodbye. “The White Book,” in contrast turns towards the micro-orientation. The novel is more personal and private, shorty and poetic, it details the Han Kang’s thoughts and memories with regards to her departed older sister, who died two hours after childbirth. The novel is riddled with poetic vignette’s thoughts, lists, and a lot of whitespace on each page. It’s a short novel, riddled with poetic poignancy, as it reflects and folds; reflects and folds; into itself, continually contemplating what could have been; what had happened; and how the event continually touches and haunts the authors life. Han Kang is by all accounts one of the most celebrated and important writers, current at work in the Korean Language. Her career has already been established, as well as her reputation. Han Kang’s potential is not limited, but continually growing.


Bae Suah – (South) Korea – If Han Kang is more preoccupied with the notion of emotional psychology; Bae Suah is by far, more cerebral. Where Han Kang’s narratives are lyrical, tightly written, and controlled to ensure they make maximum impact; Bae Suah’s narratives have neither issue nor disregard in digressing into essayistic formats, to explore her preoccupations with language, culture, or philosophy. Time in turn for Bae Suah is not a linear or straightforward notion. Her novels often cycle around the notion of time, contorting it and keeping it in a unfamiliar fashion. The work of Bae Suah is continually one of vertigo, unsettling, and often surreal while maintaining a mundane concept of reality. It is these reasons, and the influence of the German language, and literature are what make Bae Suah one of the most unconventional and experimental writers working in the Korean Language. Suah’s use of perplexing literary formats such as: shifting perspectives, non-sequential use of time, continual changes in tone and tense, and abrupt psychological digressions and monologues, succeed in both distancing the reader, and maintaining an uncomfortable sense of unsteadiness. Then there is Bae Suah’s authoritarian use of essayistic tropes in her novels, which allow her to digress further into areas of discussion into the failings of language, miscommunication between people, the failures of memory, the painful and familiar sting of time, as well as the visceral exploration of the psychological derangement of the human psyche. In (South) Korea, Bae Suah gained a notorious reputation as being a black sheep writer, one who was viewed critically by the literary establishment, who performed ‘violent acts,’ against the Korean language. This in part plays to her use of the Korean language, which is riddled with long winding sentences, familiar to the German writers who she has studied and translated into Korean. On a side note, her the characters of Bae Suah’s work are not extraordinary or special people. They are not glamorous or live thrilling lives. They are otherwise average, ordinary people, who move through motions of life; their families are in varying states of disintegration; and life is continually on the verge of falling over the edge. Throughout it all the author maintains a sardonic distant attitude towards her characters, who are merely moving through the varying stages of their life with minimal concern or care. Bae Suah is a creative, cerebral, experimental writer, one that requires effort and concentration in understanding her work. Her novels can be filled with surreal landscapes, riddled with visceral, macabre, and sinister symbolism, but present no real conclusion or concrete answer to what is happening, or its relation to the characters or narrative. Her ability to disquiet, unsettle, and unbalance readers is truly an impressive feat.


Doina Ioanid – Romania – Prose poetry has a complicated relationship with its previous forms: the poem and prose. Poets such as, T.S. Eliot refuted the notion of the prose poem because it did not consider the rhythm or rhyme in its work. It had no concern for the musical quality of language, which finds apt expression in verse. On these grounds, T.S. Eliot staked his claim that the prose poem could not be considered a form of poetry and held steadfast to this perspective. Despite his critical opinion, prose poems were a burgeoning field of poetry throughout the late Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries; and previous to this, other aspects of the form could be traced even further back. Yet, the prose poem gained considerable traction in the French language with such practitioners as: Francis Ponge, Henri Michaux, and Max Jacob. Now the prose poem, regardless of thought, argument, or opinion being leveraged against it, has become recognized as its own literary form, one that is the bastard child of poetry and prose. The Romanian poet, Doina Ioanid has written exclusively in the prose poem format over the decades, publishing six collections. Despite this, poetry for the author was a late blooming affair. Rather then enjoying poetry as reading habits, she preferred fairytales, stories, and adventurous novels. She enjoyed books where the fabulous and the mundane intercepted with each other, providing the faintest brink from the otherwise monotonous grey reality of life. These mixture of the fabulous, surreal, visceral, or grotesque dreamscapes, melding with the quotidian, can be found in her prose poems. In the nineties, Doina Ioanid was a student of Mircea Cărtărescu in one of his literary workshops, where her earlier prose poems were published alongside other poets in the class. Throughout her collections of prose poems, Doina Ioanid has created a chronicle—what some have called and ever-growing novel, where similar characters of previous collections continue to make appearances. This ever-flowing chronicle is perhaps what is so endearing about Doina Ioanid’s literary work, is its perpetually unfinished, with room for growth and moving forward. The startling and visceral imagery, becomes both disquieting and engaging, working to disrupt the monotony of daily life, while providing an idea of the dreamscape in which these characters exist and interact in. With only six collections published, and no prospective of any English translations to come in any major publication, Doina Ionaid is still relatively new; but her dedication to her chosen form, her defense of it, and making it her own is admirable. Ioanid has proven herself to being one of the contemporary masters of the form.  


Masatsugu Ono – Japan – In the Paris Review, Masatsugu Ono wrote a piece on the notion of ‘Translationese,’ in contemporary Japanese Literature, through the comparison of Haruki Murakami and Kenzaburo Ōe. Both writers, in Ono’s statement write in language that is both foreign and Japanese. Haurki Murakami, for example is said to write in English first and then translate his novels into Japanese, which has allowed him a more free and accessible form, one that his native Japanese did not facilitate. There is no doubt this immediate influence of American pop culture is also what makes him so relatable for English readers, who devour his novels without hesitation. On the contrary, however, the French existentialists and the classic English writers, that influenced Kenzaburo Ōe, made him less accessible and readers more resistant to his work, which come across as convoluted or purely literary in form, one demands which concentration and effort to understand. As a professor of French language literature and a translator of French language writers, Masatsugu Ono does not hide behind the notion that this foreign language has impacted his writings and been an influence. Yet the distance both linguistically and geographically, that he experienced did not alienate him from either his culture or his language but allowed him the ability to reflect on it more naturally. Japanese literary critics often refer to Ono as one of the most important the post-Murakami writers. What this necessarily means beyond a gradual shift away from Murakami’s influence is not entirely known. But over the course of the past few years, works of Masatsugu Ono’s work have been translated into English, and he could not be any more different then Murakami. His work is not typecast with the same alienated individuals, who find themselves entering unexpected surreal or dream like situations. The fantastical or phantasmagoric –if it appears—is always subtle (to my knowledge); and his novels are far more concerned with the emotional, psychological, and interpersonal relationships of the characters, rather then their experiences with the surreal, supernatural or the fantastic. Of course, Masatsugu Ono is just one of the many rising stars in contemporary Japanese literature, one that moves further and further away from the Post-War Literature of Kenzaburo Ōe, and the late Twentieth Century dominated by Haruki Murakami. 


Serhiy Zhadan – Ukraine – Literature and politics often have a complicated relationship. Though separate disciplines, as with all manners related to ‘Humanities,’ they do intercept one another. Geography, political climate, expired social norms, and history, provide the necessary ingredients and incubation, for literature and politics to co-exist in the same format. In the case of the Ukrainian poet, Serhiy Zhadan the intersecting points cross and crisscross; tracing and overlapping. Serhiy Zhadan is one of Ukraine’s most critically acclaimed and popular poets; whose work has gained the same appreciation abroad in other languages. Coming of age as the Soviet Union begun to collapse, Serhiy Zhadan embodied the disillusionment, disenfranchised, and the disposed dysphoria of the Post-Soviet and Post-Independent Generation. Zhadan’s poetry is riddled with depictions of the difficulties of life, and their never-ending ironies. Upon initial publication, Serhiy Zhadan was immediately seen as an enfant terrible. In no way shape or form was his work to be considered aiming for the higher pursuits of literature. He abandoned the fevered idealism of an independent state, and instead ridiculed its mediocre position, by detailing without fail poetic ironies of its failings. As readership grew, it became apparent that Serhiy Zhadan’s ability to communicate and reach with generations of readers, could not be denied as a poetic force in Post-Independent Ukrainian literature, and has since gone on to become one of the most important and celebrated poets of contemporary Ukrainian Letters. Over the last six years, Serhiy Zhadan has become increasingly politically active, supporting resistant fighters in Eastern Ukraine, and opposing Russian insurgents and supporters. This has often led him to being attacked, bloodied and bruised for these engagements. His recent poetry, has turned towards chronicling the struggles of the embattled Eastern Ukraine, by writing poems from the perspectives of citizens of the region who living in the area, whereby codifying their experiences, their observations, the images, and the sensations they encounter; and in doing so, weaving a poetic mosaic that achieves literary high points, while maintaining a strong political fixation. Throughout his career, Serhiy Zhadan has articulated the voice of Ukraine’s younger generations, exemplifying their discontent, their concerns, and apathetic attitude towards the meager benefits of independence; while also spurring the charge to maintain that independence and autonomy from aggressive foreign influences.


Three Nonagrian Poets—


The following three poets, despite their advanced ages deserved a special shoutout, for the fact that they still write, publish, and have been a great service to literature.


Ida Vitale – Uruguay – In two-thousand and eighteen, Ida Vitale won the Cervantes Prize—the highest literary honour in the Spanish language. At the time of the award, Vitale was ninety-five years old, and was one of the oldest recipients of the award, along with the Cuban poet, Dulce María Loynaz. It appears poetry ages like wine, gracefully, with the subtle hints of wisdom and revelry for the unyielding capacity of the human spirit. As a poet, Ida Vitale is the last surviving member of what was known as: Generation ’45; an artistic and literary movement in Uruguay. This influence and success would not last. By the nineteen-seventies and after a military coup, Vitale would seek political asylum in Mexico, before settling into the United States. Her exposure and translation into the English language has been minimal. Only two collections of her poetry have been released in the English language. The most recent: “Garden of Silica,” is a comprehensive anthology of her works from the beginning of her career and ending with her recent work. Throughout her poetic career, Ida Vitale ruminated on the idea, the act, and process of creation. Her poetry, prose, and essays always cycle around these themes regarding the human ability and desire to create; while also paying close attention to the individual and societies relationship with history; humanities ethical responses and obligations to nature; as well as the poetry’s place in the contemporary world. Despite her age, Ida Vitale still writes, and is highly regarded as one of the most important poets of South and Latin American Literature and poetry.


Philippe Jaccottet – Switzerland (French language) – Philippe Jaccottet is a Swiss born, French language poet and translator. Jaccottet is one of those renowned but quiet giants of Swiss and French language literature. His poetry is known to tackle the dual theme of perception of reality, in contrast to one’s experience, and emotive interactions with reality. In this Philippe Jaccottet endeavors to find a relation between the natural world through subjectivity; but tackles this concept in two different ways. The first is how the world is observed and subjectively perceived by the individual. While the second is grasping the emotional responses and reactions encountered by engaging with the world. This is often why Jaccottet’s poetry is referred to as paradoxically simplistic, while being profound. Philippe Jaccottet is often herald as one of the most important French language poets of Twentieth Century, and arguably early Twenty-First Century. Due to his contributions to French language literature, and poetry, Jaccottet was honoured with an induction into the: “Bibliothèque de la Pléiade,” [Pleiades Library], in two-thousand and fourteen; making Philippe Jaccottet the first Swiss writer to be included in the series; and in a rare case, one of the few writers to be included while still alive; as the honour is reserved on a posthumous basis—with exceptions. Now at the age of ninety-five, it is reasonable to assume that the Nobel Prize for Literature is not in the writers grasp any longer. Despite this, Philippe Jaccottet had lengthy luminous literary career, one which saw how the French language and poetry had continued to develop over the past century, while maintaining its cultural place in the pantheon of French Language Literature.


Friederike Mayröcker – Austria – Poetry is a difficult product to bring to market. Translated poetry experiences greater hurdles because of its reliance on the linguistics nuances of its mother tongue to show complete effect. If poetry is then a niche market (a miniscule flea market) then experimental poetry is always left untouched. Its deemed too obscure; or too difficult; or incapable of presenting it’s a proper form of communication. How, poetry though is taught and consumed by younger readers, truly scrubs the any poetic pallet clean of originality, meaning there is never any inclination or yearning to consume it ever again. In this one can view poetry as the poor sick man of the literary world. Its crippled, sickly, and has been placed in the attic, where it sits out of sight and out of mind. Its ignored and ostracized. Despite this though, it still its practitioners. Those who despite its reduced place in the world, keep stroking the ancient flames, and seek to bring it into new forms, new realities, and give language but a new medium to express itself. One such poet is the Austrian: Frederika Mayröcker. Mayröcker is bluntly put: difficult. Her poetry is experimental, hermetic, complex, and frustratingly defying comprehension; and despite this is still considered some of the most refined, polished, and great works of poetry published in contemporary German Literature. Mayröcker’s poetry is known for its free style writing, where liberty is taken with association, and private obsessions, all wrapped up in her linguistic gymnastics. Friederike Mayröcker eschews national and political association in favour of the individual and experience. It’s through this personal language and experience, often employing a collage like language to display her unique poetic perspective. At the age of ninety-five it is safe again to presume that the obel Prize for Literature will not be coming Mayröcker’s way. After Peter Handke’s Nobel Prize last year, it could be assured.


Not Mentioned but Known—


As many of you know, I make a conscious effort to limit the speculation list away from English language writers. Because English language writers receive more attention from mainstream media outlets, betting sites, and other speculative lists and forums throughout the internet. With such prominent attention paid towards these writers, I try to work my list around lesser known writers, or foreign language writers. In an ideal and semi-perfect world, the language of a writer would not increase their chances at receiving the prize. Language, however, brings accessibility; and as the English language is one of the most prominent and spoken languages in the world, it means it is the language of accessibility and availability. Of course, literary merit should be taken into consideration; but ultimately if the Swedish Academy cannot access or read the text, it is ultimately going to be bypassed in favour of what is readily consumable. This is neither fault nor error, but a realistic expectation. It has always been my goal Gentle Reader, to fixate on the underdogs then. I’d always sooner focus on the Estonian or Finnish poet; or the French memoirist; or the Russian fabulist; or African magical realist; or the Chinese surrealist; or the Japanese psychoanalyst; or the Argentinian experimentalist. These writers expand the literary landscape in experience, perspective, record, and cultural context; for which they should be celebrated, and that is and always has been my goal. The Nobel Speculation is a pleasure to write—when its not interrupted by the monotony and tedious tip tap of routine life—but beyond being a pleasure, its sole goal has always been to exchange and bring to light any to all new writers, who I have been able to discover and read about, and hopefully bring them to light. The goal has never been designed to predict the Nobel Prize winning writer, who will be graced with the gold seal that the Nobel Prize for Literature provides. I am neither arrogant or egotistical enough to think with any sense of pomp or superiority that I could predict with certainty who will win the Nobel Prize for Literature. Though on the contrary I’ve admittedly held fast to the idea that the prize could not be won by some who did not fit the preferred or traditional bill; and yet they won it nonetheless, regardless of my quips, criticisms, disappointing jeers, which never once reached the Swedish Academy’s ears, and even if they did they would be dismissed; and to be blunt: rightfully so.

This being said: there are writers who cannot be denied a mention or an acknowledgement. One writer who fits this case is the Canadian classists and poet: Anne Carson.

Recently, Anne Carson won the Princess of Asturias Award for Literature. Other accolades for the writer include a McArthur Fellowship, the Griffin Poetry Prize, and the T.S. Eliot Prize. Despite being an accomplished poet, translator, and scholar of comparative and classics literature, Anne Carson is not a household name. She is praised in literary circles and by critics; enjoyed by her devoted fans, and coinsures of literature; but gaining the appreciation of the general public? She’s absent. Initially describing, Anne Carson as a poet, was refuted by other poets, who saw her work as not poetry, though it is not prose either. It’s a complete indisputable form developed by Carson herself. Her work is structured in a poetic form, while being essayistic in its dissertation, and maintain a narrative like prose. Her work is extraterrestrial in the literary world; at once defying conventions while maintain the finest grains of sand to still be called literature, though the most experimental breed.

Over the years, though Anne Carson has moved outside of the lofty tower, and gained greater reputation and recognition, especially abroad. Critics, scholars, readers (both young and old) all praise Anne Carson, who find her work both exhilarating, challenging, and enlightening. There is no denying that Anne Carson is a talented and prominent writer. On a personal note, I had always though if a Canadian writer to take the Nobel Prize for Literature, it would have been Anne Carson. Margaret Atwood is perhaps the most famous Canadian writer in the world. her works are transited, appreciated and studied throughout the globe. In more recent memory, she’s gained even greater critical acclaim with the television adaptation of her modern feminist classic novel: “The Handmaid’s Tale.” There is no denying that Margaret Atwood is a reckoning literary force on the world stage, but to award Margaret Atwood the Nobel Prize for Literature, would be lukewarm affirmation and acknowledgement that Atwood is a giant on the literary scene. Awarding her the Nobel Prize would be expected—and well received—but would leave the impression of missing the point. Much in the same of giving Mount Everest a medal declaring it the highest mountain.

If Anne Carson wins though, it is both confirmation that she is a great writer, while also acknowledging the lack of renowned she may have with the general reading public. Of course, winning the Nobel Prize for Literature would not mean, Carson will be found in every home. It would, however, affirm her reputation as one of the most exciting, innovative, and experimental poets working in the English language.


FIN—


So concludes the preemptive start to the Nobel Prize Speculation List for 2020. Much like last year Gentle Reader, I’ve procrastinated or got distracted with the immediate needs of life and am running behind on this year’s list. Traditionally (or what was traditionally) the completed Nobel Speculation List would be published on August 14th; however, do to running behind and work still needed to be complete on this year’s list, publication will be delayed, until August 27th (at the latest)*. If the list will be published sooner, I will update you. As it stands, I am currently working on finalizing major sections of the list. I am working diligently, to avoid any repetitive phases; awkward wording; or bizarre grammatical mistakes. I won’t lie though, Gentle Reader, I’ve already committed all three carnal sins.

Pease Gentle Readers stop by and provide any to all recommendations, thoughts, opinions, or ideas with regards to the Nobel Prize for Literature, and who you think should be honoured with the gold medal. The truth is, every writer currently on my list, most likely misses the mark by miles. Thankfully the goal is not to predict with accuracy; but rather to engage in meaningful dialogue and speculation with regards to the writers who we champion, or at this time we can bring to the light, and hopefully provide some new readership too. This most enjoyable part aspect of Nobel Speculation is always the discovery of new writers, which is why I always hope for a writer who is not known to win the prize. As a new discovery always enrichens the pallet.

*Please Note Gentle Reader: Over the past couple of days, the Nobel Speculation List for 2020 was expedited, and is ready for publication on: Monday, August 17th. 


Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read

M. Mary

6 comments:

  1. It’s that time of the year again! :) in spite of the sorrows brought by the coronavirus, it’s good to have some sign of normality to hold on to... something to cheer about...

    So thank you for your continuing posts...

    Regarding Handke, I know you might perhaps not be willing to dive into his works again, but I’d recommend regardless you give him another try with the titles mentioned by the Swedish Academy when explaining his choice: Slow Homecoming, A sorrow beyond dreams, My year in no man’s bay, the fruit thief (not yet available in English), and Repetition, the latter of which I’m currently reading and it’s blowing me away: think of handke take Proust and hesse into a self-discovery trip to Slovenia.
    I like Tokarczuk, I think she has a solid enough work and an innovative voice that is deserving of the prize, but I agree with The Complete Review — http://www.complete-review.com/saloon/archive/201910b.htm#kf3

    “ From a purely literary perspective, the selection of Handke is hard to criticize. Indeed, I would argue that he is a considerably stronger winner -- again, in purely literary terms -- than Tokarczuk. She is good -- good enough to be a worthy laureate -- but Handke belongs in the literary pantheon; his output is surely among the strongest among all laureates of recent decades.”

    In regards to popular writers winning the Nobel, by which I mean, highly accomplished authors who happen to have achieved popular appeal, as much as I too enjoy being surprised by previously unknown or unread writers, I don’t see as a disappointment when someone very well-known who’s produced an impressive body of work wins, given the prize is for great achievement in literature, so I wouldn’t blame said writer to have won the Nobel (nor the Nobel Committee for choosing him/her) if he/she is indeed great...

    That said, and I know this is just my opinion, I’d see a possible Atwood win as disappointing for I don’t see her being up there in terms of quality, her winning would be to me an attempt to appease to the masses after the 2019 selection...

    Anyway, I conjecture one of these will win this year:
    Charles Simic
    Annie Ernaux
    Jon Fosse
    Anne Carson
    Can Xue

    The latter being my favourite pick.

    Again, thanks for continuing posting, looking forward to seeing your list.
    Best regards

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    Replies
    1. Hello Gabriel,

      How wonderful it is to hear from you! Indeed, in spite of the sorrows brought during this pandemic, it is nice to attempt to focus on what was once the routine, or traditional, or normal. I’ve slipped a bit behind this year with my list, and am now playing catching up, which I apologize to you, and to everyone who reads this blog. Regardless, it is a delight to see you again!

      I cannot argue with either yourself or M.A.Orthofer of “The Complete Review,” that Peter Handke is by far one of the outstanding literary writers of the German Language. He is purely literary; and his contributions to the literary world both globally, and in the German Language cannot be dismissed. Despite this, I’ve always found him unappealing despite my attempts and willingness to enjoy him. For me Peter Handke is in the same boat as László Krasznahorkai. I can recognize their genius, their merits, their contributions; they are goliaths on the global literary scene; and yet their works appear unapproachable, disengaging, and distant to me. I can appreciate they are masters of their forms, language, and themes—but I have yet to truly find a novel or a book, in which I appreciate their attributes fully.

      I appreciate, how you would not be disappointed if a highly accomplished writer won over a writer who lacked the same recognition. Perhaps that is where I cut my nose off to spite my face. I know when Kazuo Ishiguro won the award back in two-thousand and seventeen, I reacted to the award lukewarmly. I had already read books by the author and was hoping for a new discovery. But this does lead to a valid argument in support of your rounded stance: should a writer be penalized due to their success, and be denied the Nobel Prize because of their accomplishments? Ideally no, and they shouldn’t. They should win on merit, and for their contributions and achievements in literature. You are right there; the prize is designed to celebrate the achievements of literature; which comes from all writers regardless of success. The Atwood dilemma is one that concerns me. A writer should win by their quality of work, and Atwood has a lot of good works under her belt; along with her social, ethical, political and environmental engagements. But there comes a point where you work is no longer being judged in a literary context, but in a political and pop cultural context. Though I’d view a Haruki Murakami win in the same fashion, one in which it appears that the work is being assessed within a context beyond the literary.

      I love your list of writers. I’d be delighted if Annie Ernaux wins, I’d like to see more of her work translated into English. Ernaux has shown that the memoir does not mean conceited, or narcissistic, or self-absorbed; but can be an engaging sociological chronical and critical analysis of the individual’s perspective and memory within the context of the collective societal narrative. Jon Fosse would be a delight as well, he’s a strange fellow, but his unyielding commitment to his form, style, and themes is admirable. Well you know my thoughts on Anne Carson, she’s certainly a one of a kind writer, and the Nobel would not be a disservice. Though I have yet to read Can Xue; those who have swear by her, though they warrant caution. Her form, style, plots, and themes are frighteningly dreamlike, and like any acid trip you roll with it rather than fighting it. I look forward to breaking into a Can Xue novel or short story in the near future.

      Charles Simic is a writer whose name has floated around frequently this year. What can you tell me of him? What makes him such a special poet?

      Its been lovely to hear from you Gabriel! Please with everything going on with COVID-19 stay safe, stay healthy, stay sane! Please practice social distancing and wear a mask when necessary!

      Warm Regards,

      M. Mary

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    2. Oh, I’d written a lengthy post replying to you, and as I pushed the publish button it disappeared. What a bummer — I should’ve copied the message in case that happened. I’m afraid my answer will be much more reduced this time...

      Well, thank you very much for your kind words and concerns; we’re all fine here and taking (extreme) care; I hope you’re fine as well!
      Sorry I haven’t appeared here much, but I’ve been reading and appreciating your posts very much.

      I completely understand sometimes failing to appreciate a given critically well esteemed writer, while understanding his/her merits. And I see it as a most productive thing, that of exercising one’s critical abilities, which are just as valid as anyone else’s — I very much admired your well sounded arguments on the last Handke book you read, and plan to compare my thoughts with yours after reading the novel myself.

      As for the popularity debate, it is an interesting one indeed; I can understand the frustration one might feel at Dylan winning for example, he’s got everything already, fame, money, recognition; and while one might earnestly assess his works and come to the conclusion he has no place in the prize’s history (again, critical thinking being the most valid thing there is — recently I’ve seen some well read people expressing why they thought the much beloved poet Neruda to be overrated), I for one think of Dylan’s win as one of their most inspired recent choices, as I take enormous delight in the vibrant ways he uses the English language, which on the page alone sings and stimulate the mind.

      Ishiguro was a different thing; I myself reacted to his win rather lukewarmly, despite having read Never Let me Go prior to his being awarded and really loving it; I guess I just never considered him for the prize, which took me off guard; reading the explanation for his choice by the academy, I understood better why he was selected, he certainly writes very elegantly, in a way that’s pretty much his own voice, portraying his characters’ alienated perspective of the world in highly emotional ways, without ever being sentimental; I can see a lot of craft being put into achieving that. Still I can’t help but see he as a sort of compromise choice in a way...

      Simic I’ve recently just discovered, he’s been attracting quite some buzz lately, and while I took one of his latest collections, The Lunatic, so I cannot even pretend to speak for a career spanning nearly six decades, I find those poems to be quite warm and enchanting, simple on the surface, but stimulating in terms of his handling of imagery to convey a poetic impression; his poems have left me all cozy and tingly with the recognition of something familiar in places I wouldn’t otherwise have thought to find them so.

      While I haven’t ventured myself into Can Xue’s novelistic output, in short story form I appreciate how in her surrealist, dark fairytale like presentation, she nevertheless grounds her subjects in the realm of emotional unrest and dispossession that end up being universal.

      Carson is the one I’d definitely praise for winning the prize, while maintaining a sort of restless feeling as to how to approach her; sometimes her over reliance on Ancient Greek history and poetry forces me to want to do my homework before reading her. So I’m not sure I’d jump immediately into reading her works, but she would feel like a veio strong choice.

      And Ernaux! Isn’t she the perfect Nobel candidate? For the very things you’ve mentioned. She’s carved a very distinctive path for herself, one based on autobiographical grounds that is never ego-oriented, as she seeks to capture experience in writing, and in doing so uncover a whole society’s background.

      That’s it for now. Again, thank you for your illuminating posts; please know they are appreciated by many.

      Stay safe.
      Best regards,
      Gabriel.

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    3. I am so sorry to hear the reply is reduced but it’s a pleasure regardless to hear from you! I’ve encountered a similar issue with publishing comments and have learned the hard way to make a copy as a contingent, in the event it won’t publish. I am also glad to hear that you are safe and healthy; and how kind to know that even if you don’t comment you are reviewing the blog, which unfortunately has lapsed in recent memory—but I am working on that I promise.

      I am glad to hear that you understand my position with Peter Handke. Often people tend to become protective over matters relating to personal taste, and take slight offense when someone doesn't share it; or they seek to promote or fend their choices. I appreciate it that you respect my opinion and critical thoughts on it, and understand them. My days with Handke are not over; but admittedly it will be a while before I pick up some of his work. I'd like to see one of his plays performed. I am curious to see Handke's work translates to that platform.

      Interesting that you bring up Bob Dylan, one of my resentments toward him winning were those reasons. He has everything already, he's successful in his field, he has recognition, and plenty of prizes--why would he require the Nobel Prize on top of it? At the same time to a degree as well, my thoughts regarding Bob Dylan were churlish as well. This thought that a musician could win, treaded on my own guarded thoughts that literature is literature, and nothing could compare to a book, or a writer. Dylan, I am sure, has his literary merits, and they should be observed and critically assessed by all accounts. Though, I am sure there are plenty of valid arguments that swing in either direction with regards to Dylan's award. It wasn't one that I appreciated fully; but at the sametime I have to give credit to the late Sara Danius and Swedish Academy for really pushing the envelope on that one, and then defending it in the manner that they did. I had a slight gasp at the notion that some people think Pabulo Neruda is overrated; but then again I am sure people gasp when I say Shakespeare is overrated and a blowhard pompous windbag as well--in these matters, I suppose it comes down to a preference. Greatness exists; but how that is defined depends on the perspective of the beholder.

      [Continued Below]

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    4. I am glad that we agree on Ishiguro. He certainly did feel like a compromise (perhaps in the same manner as Steinbeck was). Sure Ishiguro has a emotionally restrained style, and his work can be quite refined; but I've always noticed it uneven, and his bibliography is quite small, which would mean any overall analysis of his work would take into account his uneven output. Then again, what I see as uneneven or not stellar, another might see as one of his best works. I still found Ishiguro a disappointing winner though. Like you said: he felt like a compromise, and I think your right.

      An interesting overview of Simic. I am not a huge poetry reader, it's one of those literary forms that I am not entirely appreciative of. It often comes across as confined, restrained, and hermetic to me. Though there are great poets like: Wislwa Szymborska, who I appreciate, for the exact same praise you give to Charles Simic; that empathetic grace, endless curiosity, and fresh perspective that allows for invisible connections in imagery and theme, which otherwise would not have originally been there or seen as explicitly. With such a recommendation, I am now going to give him a look over, and give some of his poems a try.

      Interesting, that you mention Can Xue's short stories, as that is the format I'd like to read her in first. Personally, I really enjoy the short story, which is a form which requires masterful control, it has little room for redemption, mistakes or carelessness. I look forward to giving her an honest and go see if we connect or not. She's a peculiar writer though isn't she? Her persona and how she's described by Chinese literary critics is so divisive. On one hand they praise her as one of the most original and stylistic innovations of Contemporary Chinese Literature; while on the other hand they claim and state she is certifably insane, and does not represent either the Chinese ideal, or Chinese Literature as a whole.

      I think Anne Carson would be a valid and praise worthy choice. I have yet to reader one of her books myself; but I have seen a couple of her essays here; read a few interviews, and listened to a few lectures and speechs. She's a very erudite woman, without any academic arrogance. I'd like to experience how she defieds poetic conventions and formats, into a whole new form of her own invention.

      I couldn't agree more with you on Ernaux! She has indeed carved her own literary path, and it's a remarkable one! A pity that the world is only now just discovering her. She proves that the writer can be more than just a storyteller, but also a sociological chronicler, documentation of the otherwise mundane realities of life, and giving them the proper historical gravitas, with a personal touch.

      Gabriel you are too kind! I am touched to hear that my posts are appreciated by many, as that is the sole goal! Reading, literature, writing--are passions, if no longer pursuits on my end; and I truly enjoy being able to engage in such meaningful dialogue such as this!

      M. Mary

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  2. Yes, I understand what you say in the Handke paragraph. The internet can be a place prone to attract vitriolic responses to one’s earnest opinions; I’m glad I’ve made this experience pleasant to you (as these conversations are to me as well).

    Yeah, I get your thoughts on Dylan, I understand how it’s difficult to accept it... I’d just like to suggest the reading of Horace Engdahl’s presentation speech on Dylan’s win (if you haven’t already), for it’s quite beautifully eloquent and explains why he was chosen: https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/literature/2016/ceremony-speech/

    Oh yes, Can Xue stature is quite interesting. I find it amusing how she’s so self-confident, saying things like (in the third person): “ Can Xue's era still hasn't arrived, because her works are too ahead of the curve” hehe https://www.asymptotejournal.com/interview/an-interview-with-can-xue/
    You know this already, but I should say, she’s quite demanding. What you said about the short story being precise definitely applies to her writing, it’s extremely concise, requiring the reader to be fully alert, reading every line with care, for they can possess some poetic touches to it; it’s not really claustrophobic, but certainly not as airy as Munro’s for instance.


    I’ve still only read Carson’s The Beauty of the Husband, which is quite short, likeable and accessible, so I should recommend it as an entry point. I might follow with The Autobiography of Red or Eros the Bittersweet.

    I should leave a poem by Simic as a taste. This one calls to mind Szymborska, so you might enjoy it:

    The Stray

    One day, chasing my tail here and there,
    I stopped to catch my breath
    On some corner in New York,
    While people hurried past me,
    All determined to get somewhere,
    Save a few adrift like lost children.

    What ever became of my youth?
    I wanted to stop a stranger and ask.
    “It went into hiding”, said an old woman
    Who’d read my mind.
    “Swimming with sharks, a drunk concurred,
    Fixing me with one bloody eye.

    It was summer, and then as quietly as a bird lands,
    The sidewalks were dusted with snow
    And I was shivering without a coat.
    I had hopes we’d meet again, I told myself,
    Have a drink and recall the nights
    When we used to paint this town red.

    I thought you’d be in a straitjacket by now,
    You’d say to me,
    Making funny faces at doctors and nurses.
    Instead, here you are full of fleas,
    Dodging cars and buses
    To follow a pair of good-looking legs home.

    “And you, Judas”, I summoned the strength to shout,
    “Will you be coming to my funeral?”
    But he was gone already. It had gotten late in the day,
    Very late—and since there was nothing
    That could be done about it—
    I thought I’d better toddle along myself.

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