Announcement: Nobel Prize for Literature 2021 Speculation List

 
Hello Gentle Reader,
 

Introduction –

 
Here are the quick stats of the current speculation list:
 
94 writers are included on this year’s speculation list.
40 writers are female.
54 writers are male.
 
16 writers are new to this year’s speculation list.
 
Writers by Geographical Area –
 
Africa – 10
North Africa & Middle East – 12
Europe – 35
Australia & Oceania – 2
Asia & the Indo-Subcontinent – 22
South & Latin America; Including the Caribbean – 13
 
Last year the Nobel Prize for Literature was awarded to the American Poet, Louise Glück. Due to the COVID-19 Pandemic, the routine ceremony, pageantry, and lectures were postponed until the following year, where the respective laurates would be welcomed to Stockholm to participant in the events, they had previously been denied due to the public health crisis. In the meantime, however, Louise Glück and other Laureates, all received their medals and diplomas either in their homes or at the Swedish Embassy in their respective nations. Each awarding intuition provided warm overviews of their Laureate(s) work, research, and contributions to their field. Otherwise, this year’s Nobel Events were a muted affair. The Nobel Laureates delivered their Nobel Lectures electronically to commemorate their achievements. In a fashion like the late (and grand) poet Wisława Szymborska, Louise Glück’s Nobel Lecture is notoriously short, but makes its point in her austere and forthright style, which thankfully does not dimmish its eloquence. 
 
The year 2020 also marked the end of the Nobel Committee for the Nobel Prize for Literature having extended external members. As their term ended, the remaining external members thanked the Swedish Academy for allowing them to participant in their work; while in a bid to maintain transparency and not provoke the ire of the Nobel Foundation, the Swedish Academy introduced further provisions into its selection and advisory protocols. These new protocols will induct on a temporary term external experts and specialists to advise, guide, and provide more critical analysis of writers and subject matter that are beyond the knowledge or expertise of the Swedish Academy. This new notion of special advisors will have an appointment of one or two professionals with an engrossing perspective from: African regions, Spanish speaking areas, Arabic and Persian landscapes, East-Asian literary landscape, the Indian literary universe, and the Slavic speaking nations. These experts will answer the inquiries and questions of the Swedish Academy, to provide a better understanding of the linguistic and literary areas that are currently lacking representation within the Nobel Prize for Literature Pantheon. More interesting these experts will provide a report and presentation of their overview and understanding of the writers nominated from these respective regions. It should be noted, these external members may not always be named or announced, anonymity maybe exercised to maintain impartially from influencing political or ideological influences. Though a curious notion, this latest development should be welcomed as an attempt at gaining a more global linguistic perspective of world literature. Here is hoping for these language and literary experience of these underrepresented languages and regions will broaden the Swedish Academy’s perspective, and further extend the literary Nobel Pantheon.
 
 

Why Bother with the Nobel Prize for Literature? –

 
 
Those who are not interested in the Nobel Prize for Literature often ask why such attention is paid to the prize, and why such criticism and controversy is levied against it. As they layout their arguments as to why one should not bother with it, it provides one with a sense of reprieve to take stock and question their own vested interest in the award and ponder why they themselves pay so much attention to a literary award. After careful thought and reflection, the truth is: The Nobel Prize for Literature is a wonderful award—albeit flawed in practice and execution—and is the oldest of its kind.
 
As far as international literary awards go, the Nobel Prize for Literature is the oldest. It was first awarded in the year 1901 to the French poet Sully Prudhomme. The award by its inception was the first literary award of its kind available to be given to any writer working in any language, from any country across the world. Noticeable limitations are immediately seen. Despite being ‘available,’ to any writer across the globe and in any language, it would need to be reviewed by the 18 member Swedish Academy, who will have a limited ability in the languages they can read. Then of course there is the ambiguous wording of Alfred Nobel’s will and the debate of interpretation surrounding it.
 
The early decades of the Nobel Prize for Literature show an award unsure of itself. One of contrary opinions, conflicting interpretations, and inconsistent perspectives. Many of the early Nobel Laureates in Literature have slipped into the realms of being forgotten. They are lost in the depths of oblivion. They have become mere footnotes in history books or timelines. They no longer occupy the imagination or the reading interests of the contemporary world. Their books lost in the library of dust. Their wok now barely appreciated beyond their niche cobwebbed corner of the bookshelf. Yet, during their time the award would have been a celebratory response of genius, and recognition of greatness. As is the case with Theodor Mommsen. Who during his time was one of the grand intellectuals of the 19^th Century, revered for his impressive study of the classics, history, and jurisprudence. Whose published work on Ancient Rome remains vital prescribed reading when studying classics and Ancient Roman history; Selma Lagerlöf retains some prominence, though this partially due to the fact she was the first woman elected to the Swedish Academy (after her Nobel nod). Then there is the great Bengali Bard and polemicist Rabindranath Tagore, who retains relevance and popularity, though mostly in his homeland and language. The following decades are punctuated with writers who have all but been exiled into the state of unread, with intermissions of lasting writers such as William Butler Yeats, Thomas Mann, T.S Eliot and William Faulkner.
 
In time the Nobel began to take a more concrete shape. It abandoned literal interpretations of the notion of an ‘ideal direction,’ and began to judge laureates on their contributions to literature and literary merit. This proved to be equally difficult and divisive. Some Nobel Laureates were herald as esteemed decisions and worthy picks; while others were deemed obscure, inconsequential, and irrelevant. This same dichotomous state of judgement continues to swirl around the Nobel Prize for Literature, laureates, and the Swedish Academy. Unlike the science prizes—Medicine, Physics, Chemistry—which are based off empirical evidence, or theories with enough tangible notions of “definitive testimony,” that denying is next to impossible. Of course, more scholarly or science driven individuals could take issue or leverage criticism towards the science awards, whereas the common observer would be less inclined. The Literature Prize is the opposite. Anyone can have an opinion on literary matters, as long as they meet the minimum qualification of literacy. What defines great literature is an ambiguous subject. One that that does not operate within the strict parameters of empirical evidence. Literature is a humanities subject (and one can argue Economics falls into the same category; but is different because of its quotative approach to the field), this means its grey, and remains continually open for interpretation and contestation. It is not as black and white as the sciences. Yet, the lack of explicit definition makes the Nobel Prize for Literature the most accessible prize to enjoy. As anyone can have an opinion on literature; everyone can make a snap and immediate assessment about the laureates in literature. More often than not criticism is levied against laureates who are not popular or well-known.
 
The Nobel Prize for Literature has constructed the pillars of its success. Despite its failings, its faults and successes, the elements employed by the Nobel Prize for Literature & Co. has secured their relevance and importance.
 
First – It is riddled with a deep rich history, which gives it legitimacy as the oldest literary award with a global approach (even if its application severely undercuts this claim).
 
Second – All of the Nobel Prizes (Medicine, Physics, Chemistry, Literature, Peace and Economics) are steeped in pomp, ceremony, tradition, rituals, and formalities. No other award on the planet has the reputation or the ability to lift writers, scientists, and economists to such glitzing heights quite like the Nobel Prizes. Its ceremony involves royal patronage, followed by a banquet and reception; with he entire affair covered by media attention. For but a few short days, these innovative, creative, and outstanding intellectuals are elevated to the heights of global celebrity.
 
Third – All of the Nobel Prizes are steeped in secrecy. No awarding institution is permitted to publicly discuss the nominations of any of the Nobel Prizes. All nominations, shortlists and discussions are kept a secret for 50 years. No one likes being left out of a secret; but this irritation also results in increased intrigue.
 
In this the Nobel Prize for Literature has defined what a global literary award looks and behaves like; with many of the Nobel Prize for Literatures competitors employing similar elements with amendments. This includes:
 

·         Neustadt International Prize for Literature

·         Franz Kafka Prize

 
Other awards of international reach have since fallen into obscurity or stopped awarding any literary prize for years or decades. Others have even less of a global perspective then the Nobel Prize for Literature. The Neustadt International Prize for Literature and Franz Kafka Prize remain perhaps the only two relevant and active international literary awards. The recent Man Booker International Prize is not included because it seeks to ward a writer, on the merits of a singular piece of work and is limited to prose. Whereas the Nobel Prize for Literature and its competitors seek to award a writer based off a lifetime’s achievement, without prejudice to the format their work is written in.
 
Others literary awards that do not have the same ‘global perspective,’ but are equally as important on a literary and language level are:
 

·         Cervantes Prize

·         FIL Literary Award in Romance Languages

·         Camões Prize

·         Nordic Council Literature Prize

 
In this manner despite its faults, the Nobel Prize for Literature remains one of the most consistent, recognized, and controversial literary awards that attempts at having a global perspective in literary evaluation. Its application has failed previously and will most likely continue to do so, but the ‘ideal,’ of literature as a concept persists with the prize. In that regard, the Nobel Prize for Literatures enduring merit are based off its founding principles, its ceremonial deliveries, its traditions, royal endorsements, historical longevity, and of course its statute of secrecy.
 
 

The Next Generation—

 
 
As the previous generation of writers and potential writers, as well as perennial Nobel Laureates begin to diminish and die, a new generation is already writing and composing their works. As in generations and years past, the literary and cultural evolution of society is unfolding around us. Just as Émile Zola preferred Naturalism to the realism of Charles Dickens and Honoré de Balzac. Anton Chekhov wrote the muted and subtle short stories in comparison to Leo Tolstoy’s epics. Virginia Woolf and James Joyce pushed the novel away from the reality as it is explicitly observed and infused it with the psychological processes of their character; in contrast Samuel Beckett wrote stripped and absurd theatrical pieces and novels that both mocked and pitied the human condition. So on and so forth the literary world continues to change. Of recent memory, many well deserved and potent writers of the Nobel Prize for Literature. Their resumes and portfolios are diverse, extensive, and varied. The literary landscape has changed over the years, then in those of past decades, or the previous century. As global communications, mass media and social media have become regular concepts of routine life, the transmission and consumption of information is far greater than it was prior. Travel and international maneuvering is more prevalent now then it was in decades past. Language is a more defined notion of homeland then the geographical and/or physical counterpart. These new writers’ preoccupations move away from the niche realms of their predecessors and take on greater global influences and perspectives. The following listed writers Gentle Reader have been selected based off personal taste and opinion.
 
 
Mieko Kawakami – Japan – One of the rising stars of contemporary Japanese Literature, Mieko Kawakami has gained critical praise and attention from fellow popular writer, Haruki Murakami. The two even embarked on a series of interviews, where Kawakami interviewed Murakami, paying attention and inquisition towards the two-dimensional depiction of women in his work, as well as their simplified sexualization, and over objectification. This immediate attention paid towards the perspective of women in Japanese society is a major theme in Kawakami’s work. Mieko Kawakami’s literary perspective is informed and concerned with the feminine perspective in Japanese society. Her breakthrough novel “Breasts and Eggs,” received the Akutagawa Prize and set her name as one of young and prominent writers of Japanese Literature. The novel now recently translated into English, recounts the difficulties and perspectives of being a woman in Japanese society. The novel orbits two sisters (Natsu and Makiko) and one girl (Makiko’s daughter, Midoriko). Makiko is in search of an affordable breast augmentation surgery; Natsu is a aspiring writer; and Midoriko has grown silent due to the overwhelming pressures of growing up. The silence of Midoriko becomes the cataclysmic event which forces both Natsu and Makiko to confront their fears and uncertainties regarding their expectations of life. The novel gathered praise for its wry sense of humor, emotional depth, and lacking sentimentality, as it traces the interior journeys of its characters. The novel affirmed Mieko Kawakami’s status as one of the most revolutionary literary voices in Japanese literature, one that takes a feminine perspective and stance.
 
 
Gonçalo M. Tavares – Angola/Portugal – The late Nobel Laureate José Saramago gave a warm account of the Angolan writer, Gonçalo M. Tavares, by stating: “In thirty years’ time, if not before, Tavares will win the Nobel Prize for Literature, and I’m sure my prediction will come true [ . . . ] Tavares has no right to be writing so well at the age of 35. One feels like punching him.” There is a scant amount of details of a biography surrounding Tavares, and his bibliography is equally as short, but has gathered an impressive portfolio of awards, followed by further critical acclaim. The literary world of Tavares is caustically postmodern, at times absurd and confounding, while also being sequenced in an event of logic made complete with pattern recognition, calculated notions of chance, directed equations concerning the human condition. Yet logic is both the serenade of science, and the rhapsody of chaos. Logic does not equate order in the literary machinations of Tavares. Characters wander and contemplate in their fragmented and disjointed existences, whereby calculated happenstance they cross paths, as intricate components of an equation. This sensation can be seen played out within his novels such as “Jerusalem,” recounts in the witching hours of the early morning, the disposed, displaced and alienated individuals are life in their isolative state, operating like elements within a mathematical symphony—one seeking to extrapolate the impossibility of the human condition—begins to unfold, whereby the characters through careful manipulation come into contact with one another in a world seething with violence, paranoia, illness, and the palpable sense of fear. The coolness of this calculated maneuvering can equally be found in: “Learning to Pray in the Age of Technique: Lenz Buchmann's Position in the World,” where the titular character: Lenz Buchmann, a surgeon views each procedure and patient but a equation which needs to be solved, with only of two outcomes, life and death. The wholesome of his profession is to correctly solve the problem towards life, which can only be accomplished with his steely sense of logic that is deprived of compassion and care. This same attitude without shock or surprise is aimed towards humanity. Gonçalo M. Tavares is a masterful young writer, one of the unique voices to come heralding at the turn of the 21^st Century. I should consider it an admonishing neglect to have not read him myself currently.
 
 
Sofi Oksanen – Finland – There is no denying that Oksanen has already become acquainted with the Swedish Academy, after receiving the Swedish Academy Nordic Prize in 2013 for her novel: “Purge.” Oksanen entire literary profile has been dedicated to Soviet and Post-Soviet situation of Estonia. Despite being born and raised in Finland, Oksanen’s interest and relation to Estonia stems from her mother’s immigration from Estonia, where she was born and raised during the Soviet Era. Sofi Oksanen in essays and columns writes about visiting the country as a child and recounts the different world of Estonia in comparison to the democratic Finland. Oksanen, however, is equally capable of criticizing Finland’s lacking dynamic foreign affairs when it came to the former Soviet Union. She has criticized the notion of Finlandisation, which allowed the Soviet Unions shadow to influence the affairs of Finland to a form of minor propaganda. In these situations, to possess, let alone voice, a contrary or inappropriate opinion could result in retribution or limitations placed on one’s status, career and reputation. This ultimately ensured Finland and its populace not only agreed with the Soviets doctrine of reality and its histography but denied them any sense of political agency of their own under frosted threats of penalties and punitive action. This interceptive bridle ultimately shapes language, identity and historical understanding. Thankfully Sofi Oksanen through her literary work, essays, columns and interviews seeks to expunge this repugnant ledger of events and has made correcting these otherwise misconceptions her literary goal. Her novel “Purge,” perhaps her most renowned and acclaimed novel so far, details Soviet and post-Soviet realities within Estonia, through the a family story during the Soviet Era between two competing sisters, and the consequences of the outcome of their lives against the backdrop of history; as well as the rise of the Russian Mafia the disturbing human trafficking market of Eastern Europe after the fall of the Iron Curtain. Sofia Oksanen has potential as an engrossing socially, historically and politically aware writer.
 
 
Najwan Darwish – Israel/Palestine (Arabic Language) – There can be no denying that the late Mahmoud Darwish was the most beloved poet of Palestine, becoming its national poet and literature treasure. Mahmoud Darwish treated poetry as political statement, action and resistance. His poetry provided the displaced people of Palestine a sense of identity. Najwan Darwish (who is no relation to the former) does not follow in the same poetic footsteps. Rather Najwan Darwish looks beyond the Palestinian border, its struggle, its preoccupations with dispossession, displacement, exile and lacking identity, to seek out further poetic notions and identities of the Arabic language. Najwan Darwish does not write the resigned elegies of the late Mahmoud Darwish, and though the late Darwish’s poems of penetrating weariness and resignation were poignant and potent for the Palestinian search for identity; Najwan Darwish’s poetry finds purpose, drive and function in being both matter of fact of the reality as is, while also employing poetic idealism to contemplate the possibilities of what could be. Designated as a rising star in Arabic language literature, greatness is often expected from Najwan Darwish, whose work moves beyond just poetry as well as fixating on other media, cultural facilitation and curatorship, as well as providing lectures and participating in speaking engagements.
 
 
Samanta Schweblin – Argentina – South & Latin America has produced some of the prodigal and prestigious writers currently of contemporary memory. From the bright and brief shining star of Roberto Bolano, Cesar Aira, Fernanda Melchor and Guadalupe Nettel. These writers have since moved away from the phantasmagoria, magical realism, and fantasia narratives of the previous Boom Generation, who placed the southern hemisphere on the literary map with their exotic and homespun narratives, mythologizing their southern continent. These writers have since moved pasted the narratives of Marquez & Co. and have begun to take on a more global perspective to their work. There preoccupations exhume collective traumas, social and civic discord and issues, and the transnational identities that have begun to form, proving that once again language becomes more homeland than a physical geographical sense of place. In lieu of magical realism, they at times employ muted realism or postmodern tropes of hyperrealism that provide a extensive reflection of the strange and often bewildering reality people currently live in. Over the last half of the past decade, Samanta Schweblin has gained a prominent position within the English language, her short story collections and novels have gained equal attention. Schweblin has also been nominated for the Booker International Prize twice. Her novel “Fever Dream,” employs elements of psychological fiction and to a minor extent horror fiction, to explore environmental concerns and burgeoning crises within Argentina. Her next novel “Little Eyes,” continues the trend of employing strange or otherwise off beat and unsettling narratives to provide a reflective critique of society. “Little Eyes,” imagines toys that provide further interconnection of people across the globe—one of those consumerism phenomena—but once again shows just how high a price the cost of connection and communication takes. Samanta Schweblin is able to employ both psychology and horror to provide a unique critique and understanding of the hyperreality of the contemporary world. She transcends the notions of simple topical dissertations but conjuring and twisting them into surreal and twisted conclave reflections of themselves. Truly one of those remarkable writers to herald from the southern continent, who has already confirmed her position as being one of the most remarkable writers to be translated into English or recent memory.
 
 
Mary Jean Chan - Hong Kong/United Kingdom – For Mary Jean Chan poetry was at best treated as a second thought or a hobby first. Her initial university studies were focused on the pragmatic and opportunistic world of business and finance, but continued courses in accountancy led the author to make a pivotal decision of her studies and her lifetimes work. She dropped out of her business curriculum and by happenstance took an anthropology course, her professors encouraged her to study abroad in America, where she would study political science with a minor in English, followed by a master’s degree in international development. Her burgeoning hobby of poetry became a increased fascination and fixation, eventually becoming the lifeline and connection to the world. Chan’s debut chapbook “A Hurry of English,” immediately marked the introduction of a stellar new poet in the English language.  Her debut: “Flèche,” only confirmed the formers introduction. Her poem “The Window,” was shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Poetry for Best Single Poem and would receive the Costa Book Award for Poetry. “Flèche,” received critical praise and acclaim. Critics were in almost harmonious agreement that Mary Jean Chan is a poet of cultural complexity, potent poeticism, psychological acumen, and penetrating lyricism. Born and raised in Hong Kong, language as an aspect of identity and political reality, inevitably plays a critical component in Chan’s writing. The education system of Hong Kong instructed and inoculated students to believe that English was the superior language and was used singularly in the classroom; while at recess Cantonese could be used, as it was the mother tongue and reveled in freedom. The educational environment was fiercely competitive, and therefore success rested on the mastery and deployment of the English language. English awards were deemed more prestigious and important then others, and so Chan became familiar at adapting herself to employing the English language not only as a maneuvering through the education system, but further on as her literary language, one that carried the dual complexities of this perspective of heritage, and imposed indoctrination demanding superiority over another.
  
 

Lest We Forget—

 
 
Unlike the Next Generation, these writers of monumental stature and importance have since died without receiving the Nobel nod, despite being worth candidates for the prize. They are listed not out of spite or bitterness, but out of a desire to hope that they will continue to receive further readers and admirers of their work.
 
 
Antonio Tabucchi – Italy/Portugal – The ‘heir of Italo Calvino,’ was a populist honour often bestowed upon Tabucchi. The two writers could not be any different. Despite early endeavors and commitments to ideological and political causes, including resistance and anti-fascist activities; Italo Calvino resigned himself later on to more fabulist narratives, which had no real preoccupation or constitution concerning politics or public engagement. The mature works of Calvino always carried the tones of lightness and whimsical serendipity, only betraying their more profound complexities and depth later on. Anton Tabucchi in contrast showed a greater interest and concern for civic, political and social engagement in his literary. Tabucchi’s novels and short stories maintained a strong anti-fascist and antiauthoritarian stance, which demanded even his most apolitical and apathetic characters to reconsider their positions and begin the process of re-evaluating their lacking conditions and humanistic ideals. Further contrast between the two writers came from Tabucchi’s interest in Portugal, both culturally, historically, linguistically, and literary, stemming from a fascination and continued admiration of the Portuguese esoteric poet and medium of literary personas, Fernando Pessoa. Pessoa often makes appearances within Tabucchi’s work as in “Requiem: A Hallucination,” as well as “Dreams of Dreams.” Where Italo Calvino’s novels and stories took on more ephemeral shapes, contradictions and even playful postmodern tropes that questioned the quintessential understanding of the cosmos; Antonio Tabucchi resigned himself to the more mercurial components of the existential crises of identity, meaning and purpose. His works grappled with history and the individuals place within it, they took the forms of the detective narratives while circumventing the pitfalls of the genre in order to explore the intangible but torturous. Antonio Tabucchi was one of the greatest writers working in the Italian language, who also happened to delve into the second linguistic skin of Portuguese. His continued literary explorations sought to extrapolate and define the human condition, while retaining his potent social commitments and political engagements. On a personal note the denial of Antonio Tabucchi the Nobel Prize for Literature was a mistake, just as it was a mistake to have denied Italo Calvino as well. Both writers were highly deserving on their literary merits alone, though their point of view of what literature could accomplish and do, could not be any different.
 
 
Nawal El Saadawi – Egypt – One could never describe Nawal El Saadawi as meek. No, the author and doctor was far too firebrand for any notion of meekness to be associated with her. Critics of Saadawi would call her: pugnacious, crass, and impertinent. Insults she would pin to her reputation as medals showcasing her decorated veteran status as a fighter. And a fighter she was. Feminism in the lack of Western imagination, suggests the keyboard warriors, who take to twitter with their hashtags and slogans to recount injustice (in 280 characters or less). These cyber movements take credit for toppling regimes, prejudices and perspectives, through accusations, allegations and social charges to bring to the forefront the intolerant and unacceptable behaviour of otherwise naughty people. Just look at the famous #MeToo Movement, full of steam soon derailed by its own inflated sense of self-importance and self-worth. Once again showcasing without stalwart sincerity and unshakable moral probity, any attempt at true revolutionary change is doomed to inevitable failure. Nawal El Saadawi on the contrary was a fountain of both integrity and sincerity; a brandishing honesty that scolded and criticized with every intention to make a mark, and in its wake leave a last impact that bred further calls to action. Throughout her writing career, and career as a physician, Nawal El Saadawi fought injustice after injustice, in particular the revolting injustice so easily perpetrated against women in her homeland of Egypt; be it politically, culturally, or socially. From a young age, Nawal Els Saadawi showcased herself as a resilient, free thinker who was not only in control of her own mind but was an adamant advocate for it. She resisted being married off and found an ally in her mother. Resented her grandmother’s perspective that a son was worth more than a daughter; and pursued higher education with her father endorsement, where she went on to become a doctor specializing in psychiatry. She fought against female genital mutilation, which she suffered as a child. Her literary works recounted the continued struggle, oppression and abuse that women are expected to endure. Critics called for shame, recounting her work as nothing more then sensationalism at best, while at worst compared it to the bloated carcass of a mongrel street dog left rotting in the street, nothing more then just revolting trash, an unnecessary blight and sight which should go unremarked. The government on the other hand chose to censor or ban her books from publication—which is always a compliment for the revolutionary spirited, it means your stating something that makes the governing uncomfortable. The social criticism; the idealistic pursuits of egalitarianism; and the brazen unflinching critical literary eye, softened with the humanistic approach, made Nawal El Saadawi a compelling writer and an unfortunately neglected Nobel Laureate for Literature. One could never consider the writer a prominent choice on literary grounds alone; her fierce political perspectives and criticisms, were by far the calling card for her nomination. Though one would have to question how they suitable they fit into the definition of ‘an ideal direction.’ In that regard, Nawal El Saadawi’s political capital and criticism, may have been what denied herself the Nobel Prize for Literature, yet what a Nobel Laureate she would have been. One who has the granite character to pursue basic principles that are ostensibly denied to so many, while having the probity to maintain this perspective regardless of the opposition. Its that kind of genuinity that should be applauded.
 
 
Mu Xin – China – The 20^th Century was a century of dichotomy. Plagued by grand wars, political change, upheaval, and revolutions; dictators rose and fell, empires dissolved, weapons of mass destruction were developed and released, technology continued develop and evolve. Through it all, people sat in front of their radios or later at their television, and listened and viewed these events as curiosities, of tragedy and success, but always as far-flung events which are of no importance, or more accurately: of no real effect or concern to them. These events were simply parochial skirmishes, far beyond suburbia, and therefore of no concern to them. These events and tragedies did have victims. Thousands and millions of people died or were displaced. Families were torn apart or killed. Hope became terror. Mu Xin is one such victim. Mu Xin, before the Chinese Civil War and subsequent Cultural Revolution, was an individual of prospects. His family was filled with intellectuals and with no surprise, Mu Xin would receive a classical education. Then political reform and revolution took hold and Xin, like all intellectuals and children of intellectually prosperous families, was deemed an enemy of the state. Mu Xin would be taken as a political prisoner due to his enemy status; his writings and paintings destroyed. This would begin the author’s prosecution under the Communist regime, marking Xin a political victim of circumstance, fate, and family. Despite this, Mu Xin persisted and preserved, and would survive the Cultural Revolution and political imprisonment, though only to enter exile to live an otherwise isolated and alienated life. During his time in exile, Mu Xin continued to write and paint, but his writings had no publisher, and were banned in his home country; while his paintings were displayed, they received little attention. Consolation came through the simple facts that his work was not susceptible to confiscation and destruction due to political predilections. Despite being underappreciated and relatively unknown, Mu Xin would eventually find success in his twilight years. All that suffering would eventually come to their end, when he was welcomed back to his homeland of China, where his work was published and devoured; his paintings were on display and appreciated. Mu Xin died in two-thousand and eleven, without a Nobel; but he would have been a perfect candidate.  His masterly of Chinese, is classical and culturally pure, beyond political revolutions. His work is uniquely Chinese, often dealing with themes of Chinese culture, but it has a unique twist as being reminiscent of the modernist masters of the western canon. Mu Xin was a true bridge, he blended China’s illustrious literary heritage and history, with modern western thought to create a unique perspective and genre all his own. His work (often called ‘sanwen,’) is a unique blend of essay, short story, and poetry. Despite not receiving a Nobel, Mu Xin was able to find peace in those waning years. His representation in the English language, however, is egregiously neglected. Ideally future translations and further appreciation of his literary work will be available in the English language.
 
 
Adam Zagajewski – Poland – Polish poetry is one of those crowning literary jewels, or literary schools that make other nations turn towards in envy. Of course, the English language always boosters itself superior, parading Shakespeare around as timeless and everlasting. France does the same with Flaubert; and great many other literary traditions across the globe would send their iconic patron writer to declare themselves just as important. Yet, the Polish school had three crowning jewels of the past century, who are both immortal and timeless; two of which went on to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature: Czesław Miłosz and Wisława Szymborska. These two writers are champions of Polish poetry. With the departure of Adam Zagajewski in March, however, the triptych of Polish poetry would not receive the full inclusion into the Nobel Prize for Literature pantheon. Adam Zagajewski unfortunately did not receive the medal and diploma as his predecessors had. Regardless, Zagajewski remains one of the crowning beaming jewels of poetry; perhaps a sincere sapphire in that tri-peaked crown, with Czesław Miłosz a sturdy ruby, and Wisława Szymborska an ever-fulfilling emerald. Now with the departure of all three, the scene is set for Polish poetry and literature of course to introduce a new set of writers to wow the global stage, just as their predecessors have done. One that Olga Tokarczuk and Magdalena Tulli have already hinted at; and of course, there’s the old guard such as, Ewa Lipska and Ryszard Krynicki who remind us of the poetic trio: Adam Zagajewski, Wisława Szymborska and Czesław Miłosz. Though, if we are to remember and reflect on Adam Zagajewski in the singular, it can only be said that he wrote poetry far beyond the shadow and influence of his predecessors. He was a poet who advocated for the staunched probity of poetic principles to deny and neglect idealistic propagation and praise, in favour of remaining morally honest, and depict with sincere realism the reality of life. Of course, when the system is corrupt there are bound to be consequences for depicting life true to form, and not prescribing to the perspective that the ideal demands, and one makes a choice to entire either silence or exile; needless to say Zagajewski entered exile, returning to Poland later in life, after the soviet memory had been thoroughly dismantled, and country once again formed independent thought, character and soul. On commenting on his death, Olga Tokarczuk remarked that Zagajewski had: “a special gift for poetry – he knew how to talk about it. He always appeared distinguished, quiet, focused and pondered for a long time in discussions about the answer,” one in which his students adored and admired. Those fortunate enough to have been taught and lectured by Adam Zagajewski will certainly remember him as quiet and provoking poet, who conjured both the immaterial of both history and dreams in conjunction with thought provoking dissertations on human existence.
                                                                                                  
 
Jaan Kross – Estonia – Perhaps the most well-known Estonian writer of recent memory, Jaan Kross was translated into various languages during his lifetime including Finnish, Russian, German, Swedish and English. During the early 90’s it is rumored that Kross was repeatedly nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature. Jaan Kross’s bibliography is almost exclusively filled with historical novels, and he is credited for renewing interest and scholarship into the literary genre. The use of the historical novel arguably provided Kross the cunning literary cover to provide historical and metaphorical understandings of the Soviet Occupation of Estonia throughout the 20^th century, that would allow his novels to be published without political interference. Themes of identity and complicated loyalties salt and pepper these novels, as was often the case, Estonia was conquered or occupied, rather then the occupying force. This lied to complicated understanding of one’s own history and identity, and proposed questions of nationalism and loyalties. As a young man, as Estonia repeatedly changed hands during the early 20^th Century, between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union, Jaan Kross was arrested by both oppressive regimes. First the Nazi’s arrested Kross under charges of promoting nationalism; then after another hostile takeover by the Soviet Union, Kross was once again arrested by the NKVD (precursors to the KGB) and imprisoned in both Tallinn and Moscow, before being sent to a Gulag for eight years. Upon his return to his native Estonia, he devoted himself to writing, composing the most known and translated books of Estonian literature during the 20^th century. These experiences as a political prisoner, led him to write in a historical format to analyze and ruminate on the complicated history of Estonia as a state that either existed or stewarded by larger more powerful nations and neighbours. Throughout his writing life, Jaan Kross was able to define a national concept of Estonian literature and identity by focusing on its history and alluding to the contemporary events through them. This allowed Kross to write, work and publish without rousing the suspicion of the political authorities.
 
 
Eileen Chang – China – September of 2020 marked the Centenary of Eileen Chang. In the formative and early years of her career, Eileen Chang was the literary darling of the Shanghai literary, cultural, and social scene. Her life had been one of privilege and tragedy. Her mother was an elegant socialite and Anglophile, who lived (at least to our limited understanding) a life of luxury and pursuits, without concerning herself with the tedious humdrum of daily life. The mundanity of work for a pay cheque to etch out a meager existence and call it good enough. No, Chang's mother lived extensively in Western Europe. She skied down the Swiss Alps with bound feet; lived in Paris to study art; and anglicized her daughter's name to be suitable for a cultured and cosmopolitan world. On the contrary, however, Eileen Chang's father was a man of equal privileged background, who squandered with concubines and being an opium addict. He would rage and abuse his children; and his wife (Chang's mother) often fled to Europe to avoid or be rid of him. This left Chang and her siblings in her father's custody, and he wielded his position with tyrannical cruelty. Regardless, Eileen Chang left her degenerate father behind with his whores and concubines, and in turn began to fashion a life for herself. The Japanese Occupation and Pacific War had prevented Chang from pursuing her English Literature degree in London, but she settled as a student in Hong Kong, but was soon turned out due to the onset of the Second World War. It was during this time Eileen Chang began publishing. Her stories, essays, novellas, and novels, were neither concerned, occupied, or hindered by the war time activities. Rather her work concerned itself with the fickle nature of the human heart; the complexities of human psychology and desire; and the power dynamics of relationships within socio-political and cultural confines; all wrapped up in her lush gorgeous and otherwise colour enthused style. This of course meant that Eileen Chang would face criticism for her thematic preoccupations. Critics of her work often took aim and issue with her preoccupation with the 'trivialities,' of the bourgeoisies matters of romance, style, fashion, and art. They argued Eileen Chang should have turned her attention towards more pressing matters and concerns and made far grander statements to bolster the reading public's resolve to end the war and regain their independence. Chang's instance on the mundane and trivial, was not considered serious enough or literary enough, for the literary establishment of the time, who viewed her work as being unable to retain water and had no substance beyond superficial style. The charges of prosaic frivolity are ultimately misguided when directed at Eileen Chang, who has by all accounts the poetic sensibilities which are both indulgent and invigorating. Her shrewd sketches of her characters are both cinematic in their vitriolic depictions, as they are flattering until soured. Her preoccupations with romance and human relationships are, as Eileen Chang argued, the quotidian realities of the majority. The lack of epicism, or grand statements did not denote her work as being less then, or less qualified in literary merit, it simply meant her concerns in literary sensibilities were not one aimed at propaganda, but rather depicting the convoluted misshapes and tragedies of daily life. The same stories that the people would relate with. After the Second World War and the Communists victory during the Civil War, Eileen Chang fled for Hong Kong, there she worked as a translator and wrote two novels that could be considered critical of the newly minted Chinese Government. Once again, Eileen Chang's literary sensibilities and preoccupations were in line with the Communists, and she was banned from publication. She would leave Hong Kong and live in the United States, where she would later die a recluse. Yet, today Eileen Chang remains renowned, read and popular. Her works with their splashes of colour, keen irony, skepticism, scathing observation of the malfunctions of the heart, and the complexities of human psychology with regards to human desire, Eileen Chang remains a potent literary force in early Chinese Literature of the 20th Century. She encapsulates the China that was.
 
 

Post-Notes, Post-Scripts & Afterthoughts —

 
 
It is a conscious effort and unapologetic bias that when it comes the Nobel Speculative List that no English language writer is included on the list. Other speculative lists and platforms across the internet are riddled with a plethora of English language writers. Therefore, it is my goal to avoid these writers as they will eclipse the otherwise unknown, unsung, and equally deserving writers from less paramount languages in the world. It comes as no surprise that the Nobel Prize for Literature is often dominated by the English language writers. This inevitably means that English language writers have greater recognition, marketing and support when being nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature, and it comes as no surprise that they often receive the award due to this influencing advantage. As previously mentioned, both the Swedish Academy and the Nobel Prize for Literature have received criticism for the lack of diversity in language, culture, and literary perspective in the awarded writers. Of course, the Swedish Academy attempts to facilitate a global perspective when selecting Nobel Laureates in Literature, but this application often fails.
 
This new decade already has begun with a Nobel Laureate writing in the English language, the American poet: Louise Glück, which led me to lament last year that the prize is simply shifting between Europe and the United States of America with regards to its selection process, completely neglecting the wider and diverse literary world beyond these two hemispheres. Still, Louise Glück is a deserving winner. At first my response to her receiving the award was lukewarm at best, however, after reading some of her poems and reading articles regarding the poet, she is by all accounts a deserving Nobel Laureate, as she has dedicated herself to the austere form of poetry, writing in often cold sharp lines, acute observations and ruminations on life, the complicated landscape of relationships, and the complexities of the natural world as a metaphor for human concerns.
 
Anne Carson is an equally accomplished poet, but has revitalized the form through her chimeric experimentation. Described as one of the most innovative poets by some and decried as not a poet at all by others, Anne Carson has adhered to a strict devotion to her own form which combines poetry, essays, and classis scholarly expertise into a kaleidoscope of contemplation. I would have preferred Anne Carson to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature over Louise Glück, if only due to her more contrary use of the poetic form that eschews the conventionality of the poetic constructs. Carson is perhaps not as recognizable as Louise Glück in the poetic realm. Glück has been a Poet Laureate, invited to chair boards and organizations, judge prizes and be a poet of residence. Anne Carson by comparison works within the quiet confines of her professorship in Classics at the University of Michigan, and though has won numerous literary accolades across the globe, remains relatively unknown or obscure by comparison.
 
Despite relative obscurity, Anne Carson has gained the attention of readers, critics, and scholars both at home in Canada and the United States, but also internationally. It is difficult to imagine Anne Carson as a household writer. She is far too difficult in her uncompromising chimeric form to be welcomed by the wider reading public; but those who do have an interest in literature and its potential in moving the poetic form into new directions will certainly recognize her name. As a Nobel Laureate in Literature, Anne Carson would be a profound choice, as she brings brings intellectual curiosity, experimentation and literary playfulness to a form which has often been described as too outdated, dry, dying, or dead.
 
Last year there was heated speculation that after the controversy of the previous years, the Swedish Academy would make a mild and safe choice, and arguably they did. In awarding Louise Glück, the Swedish Academy made a safe choice who covered certain external talking points. First and foremost, she is a woman. The Nobel Prize for Literature continues to be criticized for what is being considered an explicit gender bias, which penalizes women as second-rate authors in comparison to their male counterparts. Second, Glück does not hail or come from Europe. Again, the Swedish Academy is routinely criticized for having a Eurocentric perspective when evaluating prospective candidates for the Nobel Prize for Literature. Third, Glück and for many this could be seen as a retributive in nature, atoning for the fact that Bob Dylan was awarded on the thinly veiled notions of poetry for his songs in 2016. Despite these talking points, there is noticeable criticism to be leveraged in deciding to award Louise Glück as well. Such as the impression that the Nobel Prize for Literature is to be treated like a ball, passed between American Literature and European Literature, while neglecting the diversity and plethora the rest of the world has for literary production.  Again, another English language writer receives the award. Of course, the argument can be posed that as the English language becomes the defacto dominate and commonly used language in a globalized world, this inevitably means that more English language writers will receive the Nobel Prize for Literature then others due to exposure alone. However, valid that argument is, it does come across as approving of homogenous linguistic hegemony.
 
Before Louise Glück was announced as the Nobel Laureate in Literature for 2020, critics, readers, speculators, and journalists theorized that the usual candidates were on the table for the Nobel Prize for Literature:
 

Haruki Murakami

Margaret Atwood

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o 

Joyce Carol Oates

 
Following those usual candidates there was increased speculation about two other writers. The aforementioned Anne Carson (who it could be argued is now a perennial candidate for the Nobel Prize for Literature), and the Antigua Barbudan born American writer Jamaica Kincaid.
 
Speculators further theorized, argued, and advocated for the possibility of the Antigua-American writer, Jamaica Kincaid, being bestowed with the Nobel Prize for Literature. Why? Because after three years of continued scandal the Swedish Academy and the Nobel Prize for Literature needed to find some format, some way in which to appropriately appease their critics, who had grown increasingly vocal as well as relentless in their venomous charges and vitriolic disparages. After the 2018 Crisis and then awarding Peter Handke the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2019, the Swedish Academy needed to find some comprisable ground and call it a win.
 
Both, Anne Carson, and Jamaica Kincaid were considered to meet those reasonable, tolerant, and acceptable conditions; without (presumably) compromising or tarnishing the award in a different manner -- such as accusations that the Nobel Prize for Literature is now being awarded to appease and satisfy populist sentiments at the expense of enduring literary quality and merit. Now it is more than arguable that Anne Carson can meet that charge. The author has dismantled poetry to a new form of hybridity that it no longer resembles poetry in its quintessential form and becomes an intellectual curiosity. When it came down to Jamaica Kincaid there was an atmosphere of hesitation, as I had never read Kincaid before; and I had done little research regarding the writer.
 
Preliminary research was informative, but not an absolute tell-all either, and leaves little for encompassing judgement or thorough evaluation. What can be gathered is that Jamaica Kincaid is not a clearly defined literary writer. Her work encompasses varying literary formats, mediums, and genres. She is not exclusively a novelist, nor a short story writer; though she has gained critical attention and acclaim through her 'creative,' non-fiction, essays and memoir. Even her novels are noted for their autobiographical elements, though they would not be considered autobiographical in that they provide a true to fact account. Jamaica Kincaid herself has refuted and resented the increased scrutiny or critical perception that her work must be viewed or appraised via autobiographical scrutiny. Though it cannot be denied that her life is the greatest influence on her work. Where other writers maintain a more academic interest or have literary tastes; Jamaica Kincaid does not emulate or write in the style or form of other writers; she does not pilfer their preoccupations or thematic concerns. Instead, she retains an autodidactic position and form of her own creation. One that eschews the traditions, movements, schools, and forms that one would otherwise be taught, or baptized in with indoctrinating fervor. This being stated, Kincaid's written output is immediately concerned with social and political realities of the African American. Her commentary can be righteous in its angry and scalding nature. This, however, detracts away from other qualities of Jamaica Kincaid's work. Harold Bloom pointed out that these concerns of public interest and engagement (however righteous they may be) always detract from the literary qualities that her work possesses.
 
Despite flippant mixed critical reception of her work, Jamaica Kincaid has received endorsement and praise from other writers, such as Nobel Laureate Derek Walcott, Susan Sontag, and Harold Bloom. Her raw, unflinching, and otherwise 'true to self,' narratives, essays, and creative non-fiction has gathered her great appeal and acclaim with African American readers. Bringing to light their struggles, their anger, and the nuanced perspective of their lives lived, complete with the setbacks, roadblocks, and casual discrimination. Furthermore, Jamaica Kincaid writes about a growing concern and issue as of late, the generational impacts that continue to ripple throughout history. The unreconciled effects of colonialism continue to play out in the world. Heritages lost. Cultures whitewashed, bleached, starched, and ironed into civility. Languages exterminated. The perspective of colonialism's effects in a world moving to post-colonial perspectives, along with the emergence of neo-colonial ideals, are topics of discussion and criticism in her work. Where colonialism has left deep trenched scars on the landscape, the histories, and conflicting identities of the world. These themes are further compared with feminist critiques; observations and reflections of the mother-daughter relationship; concern over American Imperialism attitudes; questions regarding race; and the modern African American identity and experience.
 
Jamaica Kincaid, at first observation, carries the self-taught roughness, appeal, and acute social awareness of the late Nobel Laureate, Doris Lessing, who equally took charge, aim, and criticism towards colonialism and social issues, and wrote in a plethora of diverse forms. Lessing was renowned for being a 'rough,' writer - one whose acute pursuit of ideal truth and critical analysis of the social oppression of the individual character; or in earlier instances, the abject disregard for the collective in favour of the individual; were the paramount objectives of Doris Lessing's writing. She wrote with purpose and often (at least in her earlier years) with an idealistic bent, before turning to a more skeptical subscription in reviewing the human condition. Yet, the roughness in form and devotion to the palpability of social and political concerns, and literature's ability in addressing these concerns.
 
I hesitate, though, in giving serious consideration or speculation at the possibility of Jamaica Kincaid receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature (which amounts to nothing may I add). Social awareness, criticism, and political firebrand outrage is well and grand, and even noble; but it does not always equate literature. In the case of Herta Muller, there were poetic sensibilities providing measured balance to the political situations and survivalism being depicted. For Svetlana Alexevich, politics is a back burner issue, in favour of the human story and historical record being observed. Does Jamaica Kincaid equate to that same level, is a matter of taste and perspective, one which critically remains divisive, with both supporters and detractors. Regardless of whether or not she is in serious consideration for the prize, the speculation from last year raised her literary profile.
 
 

FIN –

 
 
There it is Gentle Reader, the preemptive announcement to the forthcoming 2021 Nobel Prize for Literature Speculation List, due to be posted on August 14^th.  
 
As in years past Gentle Reader, please feel free to stop by and present thoughts, opinions, and recommendations regarding Nobel Prize for Literature Speculation. To be fair and blunt, Gentle Reader, each of the writers presented on the forthcoming list have equal opportunity of either receiving the award and or being dismissed by it. The writers are more often than not going to be dismissed or passed by the Nobel Prize for Literature, then they are to receive it. Thankfully the goal is not to predict the prize with any accuracy, but rather to engage in meaningful dialogue and speculation with regards to writers who each of us champion, or at this time we can bring to the light and hopefully facilitate new readerships too. The most enjoyable aspect of the Nobel Speculation is always the discovery of new writers to read and to enjoy. The prize in this case is always secondary. On that note Gentle Reader, here’s hoping to an unknown writer to win the prize, as new discoveries always enrich the literary pallet.
 
The Complete Nobel Speculation List will be published on August 14^th – no set time has been decided on yet. The Speculation list is currently having its final touch ups being applied.

 
 
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
 
M. Mary
 
 
For Further Reading—
 
Dagens Nyheter: "Svenska Akademiens Nobelkommitté får externa experter,"

Roberto Calasso Dies Aged 80

 
Hello Gentle Reader,
 
Roberto Calasso was warmly declared a literary institution of one. He was a writer, editor, and publisher; though he is often warmly remembered as one of the most important Italian publishers of modern times, as well as an engrossing and approachable public intellectual. As a writer, Roberto Calasso’s worked concerned the relationship between myth and modern consciousness. A theme he often explored within his works. The Guardian quoted Calasso in their recent obituary: “A life in which the gods are not invited is not worth living. It will be quieter, but there won’t be any stories.” And so, Roberto Calasso worked to invite the gods back from their ancient realms. Roberto Calasso’s life was not quiet, nor small, nor quaint, or minuscule. Calasso’s life was engaged and engulfed with the pyrotechnic intellect, which was generously dispersed. His life was consumed with literature as a pursuit of passion, which was not just a pleasure for the reader to enjoy but provide scholarly support in understanding the anthropological perspective and understanding of human society from primitive state to the modern conscious creature that it is today. A life of intellect was in the pedigree of Roberto Calasso. His father was a legal scholar, his mother a scholar and translator of German literature. His grandfather was a professor of philosophy in Florence; while an uncle was a partisan fighter during the Second World War and became a politician and Minister of Education. The path of public intellectual pursuits was already formed for Roberto Calasso, who pursued the passion without complaint and with great interest, which was infectious in its propagation to others. After completing his doctoral dissertation on Thomas Browne’s theories of hieroglyphs, Calasso went to work for the prestigious Adelphi Edizioni, where he would become the chairman of the organization at the end of the 20^th Century. Throughout his career as both writer and publisher, Roberto Calasso maintained a strong devotion to literature as one of the noblest and highest pursuits of study. His literary oeuvre was maintained strict devotion to studying classical myths as a metaphorical understanding of our primitive germination of consciousness as it leads into our modern thought and its continued evolution; other critical analysis included an astute study of the works of Franz Kafka, among other writers such as Charles Baudelaire and Vladimir Nabokov.  Where other writers, publishers, intellectuals, and professors lamented on the state of literature or critical thinking in today’s world, Calasso never uttered a complaint to the decline, but worked tirelessly to find a new place to build an altar to the legendary greats of literature and inspire the future generations of great writers to come. His publishing style was as eclectic as his life, showing equal interest into all books and literature, not fixated on just classical narratives, but also books that held an important message or contemplated the conundrums of the modern age. Roberto Calasso was a champion of writers both established and still unknown. A successful connoisseur both of literary, intellect, cultural and aesthetic significance, Roberto Calasso will sadly be missed not only in Italy, but also the literary world, which surely quaked and shivered at the news of his passing.
 
Rest in Peace, Roberto Calasso.
 
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
 
M. Mary

The Booker Prize Longlist 2021

Hello Gentle Reader,
 
As the dog days of summer rage on with that drought ridden breath lapping at the crack and dried earth that have become the threshold of August, the Booker Prize has announced the longlisted candidates for this year's Booker Prize, which becomes an endearing distraction from last years postponed Olympics now being conducted in Japan (though unfortunately with great controversy). The sheer athleticism of the games as a marvel they are to witness and observe, can become otherwise lost in the continued stream, and thankfully a literary prize has come along to provide some reprieve.
 
The following list, Gentle Reader are this years’ longlisted writers:
 
Mary Lawson – Canada – “A Town Called Solace,”
Kazuo Ishiguro – United Kingdom – “Klara and the Sun,”
Nathan Harris – United States – “The Sweetness of Water,”
Rachel Cusk – Canada – “Second Place,”
Anuk Arudpragasam – Sri Lanka/United States – “A Passage North,”
Karen Jennings – South Africa – “An Island,”
Richard Powers – United States – “Bewilderment,”
Francis Spufford – United Kingdom – “Light Perpetual,”
Patricia Lockwood – United States – “No One is Talking About This,”
Sunjeev Sahota – United Kingdom – “China Room,”
Maggie Shipstead – United States – “Great Circle,”
Damon Galgut – South Africa – “The Promise,”
Nadifa Mohamed – Somalia/United Kingdom – “The Fortune Men,”
 
Surprisingly this year’s Booker Prize Longlist is not entirely dominated by the usual United Kingdom and United States writers, which smuggles in a few writers from hither and yon. Rather there appears to be an honest attempt and interest in the books from varying regions and locations, with all those specific perspectives wrapped up in them. The longlist also finds itself composed of a combination of both recognizable names and those finding their foothold. Immediately recognizable on this year's long list is of course the previous Booker Prize winner and Nobel Laureate, Kazuo Ishiguro, with his novel: "Klara and the Sun."  The novel retraces familiar ground for Ishiguro, who crafts another dystopian fable such a his previous work: "Never Let Me Go," which allows him to trace his eternal preoccupations with memory, emotions, and the baffling question of what it means to be human -- or what is the designation which segregates them from being less than human.  "Klara and the Sun," has been warmly received by critics and the reading public, though it retraces the common ground of Ishiguro's literary preoccupations. Another novel noted for its slight science fiction bent is the Pulitzer Prize winning writer Richard Powers with his novel: "Bewilderment." The novel is also a dystopian fable and charts the account of a widowed astrobiologist as they seek to keep their son safe, as the world slowly deteriorates and succumbs to nothing. Powers traces the concept of survival and sacrifice as the world approaches the threshold of ending. "Bewilderment," with its topical story of the climate crisis and the approaching mass extinction event, is rumoured to be a strong contender for this year’s award, with its humanistic vision of how even our personal woes do not cease and desist even in the face of the end of the world. 
 
Though from Canada, and now living in the United Kingdom, both Mary Lawson and Rachel Cusk have been nominated for this year's Booker Prize, there is something parochial and Canadian about their work. Perhaps it is their quaint provincial settings, those small towns and villages remote and removed where the world stands still. Those small abodes have woven themselves into the quilted schizophrenic identity that is the Canadian cultural identity crisis. They have become the firm stitching that holds it together. Regardless of the major cities (Vancouver, Toronto, and Montreal) the small and parochial remain, becoming the lighthouses and beacons which provide home and sanctuary for so many people who flee the urban and seek to reconnect with the rural and the expansive (and at times harsh and brutal) Canadian landscape. Mary Lawson's novel: "A Town Called Solace," is just that. It explores through the frame of the small town - yes, the hallmark of the Canadian landscape - as it explores the family tragedy, personal loss, and grief through the intercepted lives of three people. It's a small drama which ripples into large and everlasting waves as we contemplate personal tragedies that touch and influence not only our own lives, but those around us even in the most indirectly related matters. "Second Place," by Rachel Cusk has been called a singular stand out novel on this year's Booker Prize Longlist. The secluded and solitary landscape is once again the backdrop for this novel, which explores the geometric difficulties and awkwardness of human relationships, male privilege and the fatalistic attitude of women. The novel explores the relationship between a woman, her family, and the famous artist who she lets stay at her guesthouse. What follows is a tumultuous summer where creativity shows itself as being both saviour and destroyer.
 
South African literature is also represented on this year’s Booker Prize longlist, with Karen Jennings and Damon Galgut. "An Island," recounts isolation and seclusion disturbed. When one is isolated and secured the troubles and concerns of the daily world are of little to no concern to anyone else. Politics is nothing more than driftwood or washed-up seaweed. A mere afterthought or inconvenience. Something to toss back into the sea. For Samuel, the lighthouse keeper, the isolation of his work is personal refuge, but it becomes indiscriminately disturbed when a young refugee washes up on the small island's beach awakening buried memories of times spent fighting against the oppressive colonial laws of the past. Damon Galgut's novel: "The Promise," explores the dynamics of a dysfunctional family. Isolated in a rural setting, on a farm nonetheless, one can't help conjure notions of nihilistic expanse of the desolate prairie countryside threatening to consume the existence that dares call its scrub brush land home. Taking place during four funerals over 40 years, "The Promise," recounts with acute examination the anguish that resides at the characters’ lives, and what causes them to repeat the same old mistakes of dysfunction continually and circularly. The novels of Karen Jennings and Damon Galgut recount the personal and the political, and often their relationship with each other. Nathan Harris's novel: "The Sweetness of Water," is equally concerned with historical and political events as it pertains to the question of freedom with two brothers who after the end of the American Civil War and the Emancipation Proclamation becomes law, two brothers are forced to explore and understand the concept of freedom, and its limits within a s still racially influenced society which demands segregation.
 
Nadifa Mohamed tackles racial injustice in her novel: "The Fortune Men," detailing the true story of Mahmood Mattan, a Somali seaman who was wrongfully accused, charged, and convicted of murdering a woman by the name of Lily Volpert on March 6, 1952. Throughout the botched proceedings and construed trial, Mahmood Mattan was found guilty, and became the last man to hang at HM Cardiff Prison. Nadifa Mohamed traces the story, account, and case and weaves a historical narrative that tackles the question of racism as it influenced the proceedings. Mahmood Matten was later acquitted in 1998. Francis Spuffold conducts equal historical revisionism with his novel "Light Perpetual," contemplates the possibilities of lives in the event they were not destroyed so quickly. Five children are killed by a V2 rocket during the Second World War during the London Blitz, and Spuffold recounts the possibilities of lives not lived by envisioning what they could have done or have been. The judges praised the novel as it recounted the contingencies of life and exercised the full potential fiction as a form. Maggie Shipstead performs a similar feat with her novel "Great Circle," as it treats time and history as otherwise plural and parallel concepts, detailing two stories of the lost female aviator who attempted to circumnavigate the north-to-south borders, and a contemporary actress who sets out to play this devilish and fearless woman. Patricia Lockwood also makes an appearance on this year's longlist for her social and technological engaged novel: "No One is Talking About This," that explores the real-life perplexities of social media, fame, and the impacts all of this has on our concept of reality and self in a media saturated world. The novel itself appears topical in its fixation on otherwise immediate concerns regarding the internet, social media, and societies interaction with such matters, but has won over critics and readers alike for its wry commentary and warmth, which engages and challenges our perspective of the modern world and its technological advances and conundrums.
 
Anuk Arudpragasam and Sunjeev Sahota discuss difficult political situations and conflicting cultural traditions and perspectives. Anuk Arudpragasam and his novel "A Passage North," explores community connections, individuals interwoven into those communities and cultural conflicts, as a young man's journey into the northern reaches of war-torn Sri Lanka to attend the funeral of his grandmother's caregiver. The novel has been praised for its gentle and penetrating prose, which has been noted by critics that the true strength behind "A Passage North," is not the plot or how the themes are tackled or dealt with, but rather how quietly the novel laps at the readers consciousnesses, long after it’s been shut and placed down. Its strength is its subtle explorations of the otherwise complicated nature of community, culture, and our own heritage. Sunjeev Sahota tackles the concept of cultural conflicts and expectations with more force in his novel: "China Room." The novel recounts two concurrent narratives of two individuals seeking to free themselves from the cultural shackles and expectations of their position, their gender, or their circumstance. From arranged marriage to ostracization and diaspora that leads to drug abuse, Sunjeev Sahota recounts these preoccupations with certainty and authority that makes his work not only engaging but poignantly relevant for a multicultural and globalized world.
 
This year’s Booker Prize parades a surprising genuine perspective towards diversity, and not just for the sake of meeting some inclusion quota. Rather the perspective contains a sincere sentiment, one in which the judges advertise but uphold with unimpeachable integrity. The longlist inevitably will be trimmed, and not all the writers will inevitably make it to the shortlist. I don’t advise speaking in absolutes, nor declaring any statement as unequivocally true when lacking any empirical evidence beyond instinctual inclination. Yet, I have a sense that both Patricia Lockwood and Maggie Shipstead will not make it to the shortlist and have doubts regarding the fate of Mary Lawson (to provincial) and Nathan Harris (to American). On the contrary, there is no doubt that Kazuo Ishiguro will certainly be welcomed to the shortlist on conventional grounds alone, of course he’ll have Richard Powers as company as well due to the critics swooning about his novel; Rachel Cusk might as well make it too, her novel has been praised as a singular stand out novel, and of course it has great admiration and allusions to D.H Lawrence (the English love tributes and acclimation to themselves); while I suspect Nadifa Mohamed will make it, and Damon Galgut is deserving as a place on the shortlist as well. Everyone else is but a wild card.
 
Congratulations to the longlisted writers, and good luck to them as the Booker Prize judges though enjoying the praise of their longlist will now be forced to begin the butchery of judging. The trimming, the cutting, and the discarding. For now, though, the writers longlisted will enjoy the nod. On a singular side note: this year’s Booker Prize longlist truly became an otherwise impressive longlist balance the expected conventional with writers who usually are not considered for the Booker Prize or would otherwise be side stepped in favours of others. In all this year’s Booker Prize appeared to be more enjoyable to glance over then those in years past.
 
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
 
M. Mary

Friederike Mayröcker Dies Aged 96

Hello Gentle Reader,
 
There is no Grand Dame of German Literature quite like Friederike Mayröcker, who throughout her life cultivated gained critical reception, academic acknowledgement, cultural appreciation, and literary respect, before becoming a legend of both poetry and German language literature. Throughout her lifetime, Friederike Mayröcker was the contemporary of: Paul Celan, Ingeborg Bachmann, Günter Grass and Christa Wolf; along with Thomas Bernhard, Peter Handke, and Elfirede Jelinek; and the companion of Ernst Jandl.
 
Through the Post-War Period of European Literature and the division of German language literature, Friederike Mayröcker would become one of the most daring, concrete, and irrefutable crafts of poetry. Though mainly renowned and known for her experimental poetic works, Mayröcker also produced novels, memoirs, children’s books, plays and radio dramas. Despite an industrial output in multiple forms, Friederike Mayröcker has had little translations into the English language. Which is ironic considering that the writer, before taking early retirement in the late 1960’s, taught English as a second language in public schools.
 
Mayröcker’s poetry is renowned for testing the limitations of language, while exploitation and developing the linguistic imagination inherent in language, within her extraordinarily inventive and highly developed avant-garde poetic style, captured observations of the minute perspectives that embody the everyday, the natural world, and personal emotional states such as the duplicity of love and grief. It was form, however, that always grabbed the attention of critics, and their devoted admiration. The strict adherence to her personal poetic form of associative language (even to an almost surreal state) became the pastiche and kaleidoscope of language that gave linguistic shape to her otherwise personal obsessions.
 
In 2001 Friederike Mayröcker received one of the highest honours of German Language Literature, the Georg Büchner Prize, and the German Academy for Language and Literature provided the citation regarding Mayröcker’s contributions: “made German language richer in its very own way with its streams of language, word invention, and associations.”
 
As a writer who was born and lived preceding the Second World War, Friederike Mayröcker was inevitably exposed to the horrors that took place during the Third Reich and Nazism. At the age of seventeen she was drafted into to the Luftwaffe (the air defense of the Nazi’s military), where she worked as a secretary throughout the bombings of Vienna. After World War II, the German language required to shed its previous perspectives and prejudices, which facilitated cruelty and slaughter to an unforeseen industrial scale. The language would need to both atone and critically review the past, while progressing forward. So, where the Post-War writers of the German language, who Friederike Mayröcker counted herself amongst. Those early years of writing were renowned for their experimentation and flavour. Linguistic dexterity and reinvention were the norm. They would in practice oppose the absolute perspectives previously paraded and pontificated by the criminal former regime.
 
Throughout the 20^th Century, Friederike Mayröcker became less of an avant-garde writer, to a respected authority and figure; and by the time 21^st Century had arrived, she had already been exalted as a legend. Though few of Mayröcker’s work have appeared in the English language, a couple of collections of her poetry can be procured, such as: “Scardanelli,” and “Raving Language: Selected Poems 1946 – 2005.” A memoir was also recently published in the English language: “The Communicating Vessels.” Though these few works are small in number, they do provide a orientation to the prolific productivity of Friederike Mayröcker. Perhaps in due further translations of her wide and diverse oeuvre will be published.  
 
Sadly, Friederike Mayröcker died on June 4^th, 2021. She was 96 years old.
 
Rest in Peace Friederike Mayröcker.
 
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
 
M. Mary

David Diop Wins the International Booker Prize, 2021

Hello Gentle Reader,
 
The International Booker Prize for 2021 has been awarded to: David Diop with his novel: “At Night All Blood is Black.”
 
There is something to be said about dark horses when it comes to the International Booker Prize, as it appears that the International Booker Prize disregards the conventional understandings of its senior award and namesake, the Booker Prize. As the Booker Prize has the proven precedence and convention to honour previous winners and established writers.  On the contrary, however, the International Booker Prize, over the past few years have proven a disregard for such formalities or critical approval. Two prime examples include the following:
 
In 2019 the French writer Annie Ernaux was considered the critics favourite by the critics to receive the prize, with her autofiction and third-person objective memoir: “The Years.”  Despite the critical acclaim and being considered the frontrunner for the award, the 2019 International Booker Prize went to, Jokha Alharthi and her novel: “Celestial Bodies.”
 
This situation was repeated the following year, when the Japanese writer, Yōko Ogawa was shortlisted with her novel: “The Memory Police,” which was regarded as a testament to a year of isolation, of eschewed normalcy, as it was a potent reminder of the power of memory to feign off absence and loss. Despite the critical acclaim and the obvious frontrunner for the award, the 2020 International Booker Prize went to, Marieke Lucas Rijneveld with their novel: “The Discomfort of Evening.”
 
The same situation once again appears to repeat itself in 2021. The frontrunner for the award was considered the Russian literary star, Maria Stepanova and her family memoir turned autofiction work: “Memory of Memory.” Despite the critical acclaim and the speculation that Stepanova was guaranteed the award, the judges had decided otherwise, awarding the French novelist David Diop for his novel: “At Night All Blood is Black.”
 
It is not meant insultingly when it is stated that of the shortlisted writers for this year’s International Booker Prize, David Diop was the dark horse amongst them. His novel was quietly contemplated and considered, but never discussed with the open vigor that Maria Stepanova’s work was. Perhaps this lack of public image is what assisted in Diop in receiving the prize.
 
“At Night All Blood is Black,” recounts the tale of two Senegalese soldiers who fight in World War I for France, and the horrors of war, but also the witness the personal descent into madness, savagery, and cruelty during such times. The Chair of the Judges, Lucy Hughes-Hallett, referred to the novel as a “extraordinary novel,” and further recounted that the language employed by David Diop is sensual, beautiful, creative and shifting language will enchant readers, but will not censor or hide the violence, brutality and callous cruelty of war and battle; but what comes forth from the bloodshed is perhaps a sense of poetry of slaughter.
 
Congratulations to David Diop on winning the International Booker Prize for 2021. The award will be shared between himself and his translator, Anna Moschovakis.
 
 
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
 
M. Mary

Reflecting on Real Estate

 Hello Gentle Reader,

In The Guardian there was an excerpt from Deborah Levy's most recent installment of her fluid living autobiography series: "Real Estate," (past installments are: "Things I Don't Want To Know," and "The Cost of Living,") where the author takes stock and contemplates the appeal for property; a place to call home. Perhaps even an estate; so long as its not that dreary rundown apartment block left to reminisce of its former glory days, in comparison to its decrepit ill maintained present self. Such a place is for all intents purposes a dwelling – more aptly speaking – a roof over the head to keep out the rain. To describe it as a home, is an insult to the notion of what home is. Yet, Levy reflects on her desire for a home. For a real home. One with a garden were flowers bellow and bloom throughout. A patch of grass that can be described with firm authoritarian proprietorship. Where the walls reflect ownership. The entire structure and building, from foundation to roof can be classified and designated by law as: one’s own. Each room holds within its corner, nooks, crannies, and shadows the understanding of the possessive attitude. There is something singular about property ownership. Singular in that it brings stability and assurance. Sadly, these perspectives are eroded by an undercurrent of expenses, taxes, and maintenance. Regardless, when an individual owns property, they have options, and within those options’ exists sanctuary.

 

Deborah Levy's preoccupation with real estate, and the concept of wanting a parcel of land to call her own, complete with a house and conveniently a garden, is riddled with the inclination of ownership. All of this brings stability and perhaps even status. Those of bohemian notions of course snub their noses at such bourgeois pursuits. A home? A garden? Such frivolous pursuits! How suburban, antiquated, and consumerist. It is terribly unartistic. It is terribly limiting. For all that stability you might as well clip your wings and call it done with. No more freedom. No more spontaneity. No more creativity. It will be flushed and squandered. Until all you know is the baseless and tasteless routines of contemporary existence that we call life. That mediocre day job, and the pitiful title of weekend warrior for Saturday and Sunday, which inevitably will be spent on housekeeping, gardening, and the otherwise general maintenance of the home. Yet, for Deborah Levy, the fantasy of envisioning a home with a garden, and a dining table that will welcome both family and guests, is not a matter of the base pursuits deemed consumable and required of today's world. It is one of stability. Perhaps insinuating back to Virginia Woolf's words regarding a woman who writes, who will require both money and a room of one's own to do so. In the case of Deborah Levy the notion of the room is inclined towards a home. A home of one's own to call their humble abode. To become a refuge and sanctuary, and housed within its walls, a room with a desk to write at. It is not selling out into the suburban ideal. It is not doing away with the creative pursuits. It is not the abandonment of any literary inclinations. It is an act of securing oneself and finding peace within that stability.

 

For the bohemian though, renting provides freedom (at an expense). Rent is by no means a cheap affair. You are provided a roof and a door that has a lock (hopefully), with windows without a view. It will have its issues, from leaking roofs and failed appliances; but it is a roof over your head. But do not mistake your position: you are a tenant, not the landlord. Your expectation is to pay rent on time, cover the utilities (unless included), maintain the house in cleanliness and shape, and not destroy anything intentionally. The home is only yours on the lease. This contractual relationship clearly outlines the narrative in which the transaction is to operate. The power dynamics in themselves, clearly defines the place in which you occupy within this order. Yet through it all there is freedom. Rental properties—be it some boho chic shabby shack; or a concrete canister apartment building; or some rundown slum—provides freedom, its noncommittal, expendable, and very much so not your problem. On the contrary, however, by whim or thought, you can easily be evicted and left in that precarious situation of purgatory homelessness.

 

Reading Deborah Levy’s reflections and ruminations of the notion of home, brought comfort with regards to my own precarious and concerning home situation. Though it never really was my home. Such is the plight of the renter. But it was always treated as if it were my own. Though the yard work tended to be neglected. Thankfully, there is always the prying neighbour to remind me that the lawn is getting long. Though she never mentions it on a personal or casual field. No, she relays the message through a formal complaint, which is then delivered by the municipality to the landlord, or an annoyed bylaw officer to me. Come the summer, there is no one as begrudged as a cantankerous cow in her garden. Over the years, I made routine reasonable attempts at keeping up with the yard work though. The first year there was even a reasonably successful attempt at a vegetable garden, which proved to be an informative orientation in the violent virtues of gardening. Yet come the spring it will be time to fight with the lawn mower. Who through its winter hibernation refuses to start without hesitation every spring. Like clockwork the grass pushes forward to the sun, and she begins scowling at her fence like a keen starved vulture. I never knew it was spring until I saw that disgruntled gardener. This of course proves the point regarding gardening as perhaps the most incurious past times. A transient seasonal chore more than an activity of pleasure.

 

Despite the many years spent here prior, they are now concluding with no more years to come. The home was never mine. Rather it was an illusionary notion of proprietorship. Every month the rent paid, started to feel like mortgage payments, followed by the utility invoices. Through the years, the home felt like my own. However, in late April I was reminded that it was never mine in the first place. I was provided notice. Thankfully, the landlords are kind and sought to work with me providing me enough time to find an alternative, a new place to call home—be it my own in ownership, or by illusion at someone else’s leisure. It comes as no surprise that they wanted to sell. The Canadian housing market is burning with a fevor fever. It is bloated with inflation, pushing myself and others out of the running. There are concerns we have entered the dangerous stages of a housing bubble due to burst. Less savory landlords are seeking to gain profit from an influx of tenants who find themselves without home for the housewares. The cycle inevitably continues regarding the status of ownership, and its ability to provide one with both stability and options.

 

With notice provided, it is time to seek out a new abode to call home, for however long I can call it such. For those who have ever house hunted, it is an exercise of patience, coupled with haggling and often walking away. The most recent house viewed could only be described as a nightmare. The first interactions with the would-be landlord raised enough concerns on their own. He conducted a complete organ recital for his pity party. One tenant who had lived there prior made off with his washer and dryer and replaced them with less appealing and malfunctioning ones. He claimed to have replaced them. The current tenant he went on to lament, had only been in there for two months and had not paid rent, so he evicted her. Another tenant prior had allegedly burned the carpet, so he replaced it. His claims were partially found true. When asked if there any concerns with vermin such as mice, he shrugged such a question off as inconsequential. He went so far to proclaim that every house has a mouse in it. Then he changed the subject to vent his ire about the neighbour who refuses to pay their share on replacing the fence. Upon arriving at the advertised: ‘cozy,’ and ‘comfortable,’ home, I was immediately greeted by the evicted tenant who was thrilled to provide a detailed walkthrough and accountancy of her own points of contention. Even before setting foot into the house, one need only survey the front and take stock of the garbage piles that had accumulated over an undisclosed time. Defensively she explained it was not her ‘trash,’ but merely the bullshit that was left behind for her to deal with. Crossing the threshold of a home one was immediately struck by the stench of stale cigarette smoke. It hung in the air, clung to the walls, wave itself into the fabric and foundation of the home itself. The ceiling yellowed with it. The hardwood floors the landlord boasted about with pride, where perhaps a selling feature at one point. Now they were beaten, scratched, and destroyed. A kitchen disaster certainly occurred. The range above the oven was scorched and burnt. The surrounding walls charred or blackened. Though it was spacious, as it apparently lacked any concept of cozy. The paint job was lathered and slapped on indiscriminately. Further down the line, we came the famous washer and dryer—or rather washer, with water pooling around it. I thought he had replaced them.

 

Then came what may be described as a bedroom, perhaps, with a door that lacked a handle. The carpet inside of it a disgusting constellation of burn holes peppered throughout. The bathroom smelt like a urine saturated latrine. The smell, now a permanent fixture. The shower itself showcased the blackened blemishes of mold. The second bedroom was a strange, patterned vinyl flooring from the 70’s that looked as if it belonged in some pornographic bathhouse. The advertised beautiful backyard was overrun with weeds and quack grass. The shed a hoarder’s nest of pesticide, garbage, and miscellany. Apparently, someone made off with his lawnmower too, or he failed to mention it. The parging around the house had been weathered and eroded. Chipped and destroyed it needed to be dealt with. Entering back into the house, one begins to take note of the gaps within the walls, and the sunlight peering back in. Mice certainly existed within this rundown shambled shack. Then came the final recount from the evicted tenant. Apparently, the bills are overdue (a stack of blue water utility notices can be found accumulating on the counter). The previous tenant or tenants had failed to pay the water bills, and an outstanding balance is overdue, or else the water is shut off. The evicted tenant explained that he (the landlord) wants the incumbent tenant to pay the outstanding bonus. She told him—and I quote— “to get fucked.” I don’t blame her and would have said the same.

 

It took a day to get the stench of stale cigarette smoke to dislodge from my nose. While the landlord himself wanted an account of what I thought of his rental. I told him it wasn’t meant to be. He went on another vent regarding how he cannot afford it being vacant, to which I responded, but you have several people expressing interest. His bluff was caught. Regardless, anyone who did look would never pay his bloated price. You always hear of the tenant from hell, but no one ever mentions the landlords of their derelict wastelands of homes. Their housing hazards. Their neglect and refuse. 

 

In the spirit of Deborah Levy, I continue to envision and dream of a place to call my own. One that knows that facilitates and fosters the sense of ownership and proprietorship, while maintaining discretion and privacy. A home is sanctum and a sanctuary. It is refuge for the for recluse and denies entry to the would be interlopers of the world. I casually stroll through the real estate websites and envision the homes that pique my interest as my own. There's one just north of the park off a main drag, but close to a grocery store. It's an older home, but well maintained. The kitchen was recently renovated, and though I am not a great practitioner of the culinary arts or the science of baking, I can appreciate a decent size kitchen as a requirement for most cooking. The neighbourhood itself is mature and established, meaning developed trees have grown throughout, and there is a sense of character within the neighbourhood, a sense of established identity. Though if I were to envision or contemplate a dream home, the matter grows increasingly nebulous. Perhaps in the redeveloped barracks, where the row houses appear like the brick houses one envisions in London. Or perhaps a quant brick Victorian home, oh how delightful, with its period charm. Then again there's no point in contemplating the improbable and impossible. The situation as it stands blows up both those thoughts back to the back of the brain. There is a time for dreams and wishes, and then there is time for immediate consideration with the pragmatic practicalities of life.  Hopes and dreams are nice with their pinched delights, but life is a startling and shocking affair and leaves little preoccupation with the baseless daydreaming. Though if the place were to have a yard, that would not be so bad. Though don't expect flowerpots strewn across the place, though lilac bushes would be nice. They require little effort to grow and seem to handle even the greatest amount of neglect. But at least with a yard, I would be able to have a postage stamp parcel of grass to sit on. Though living close to the park, would be nicer still, that's where you can stroll; read a book on the bench; watch the birds; feed the ducks; or a place to get away from the house or the concerns of daily life, if only for a minute. There is truly something marvelous and awe inspiring about the way in which people adapt and terraform the land to their own will. Amongst buildings, houses, shopping complexes and roads, there exists parks, trees, and flowers and the natural world, which is not defeated but controlled.

 

Of course, the urban and city life was always what I aspired for. Rural roots are dusty and dreary. Riddled with nosy neighbors and gossiping Gladys’s. Perhaps though more undesirable about rural life is its alienating expanse. Heralding from the prairies there is always a consuming nothingness that hisses on the warm summer winds, or in the starved howls of winter, as they blow across the prairies. Surrounded by 'nothing,' but skies and farmers' fields, often left one wondering and planning their escape away from the crushing expanse. In the distance at night, you could always spy the light pollution of the nearby city. Its clotted orange clouds hung overhead like a smothering chandelier of light and cloud, always operating as a beacon in those dark and endless winter nights of my childhood home. Of course, when visiting one took on more moral superior dimensions; criticising the garbage left littering the streets; the rushing people who don't apologize for bumping into you; the increased probability of crime. None of this ever happened in the country. But instead, there was a pulse. There was a palpable understanding of life. Events happened in the city; people were made in the city. Lives were lived in the city. In the country one slipped further and further into oblivion, into being forgotten or unknown, until there was gossip to share over the fence. Whereas the city offered possibility and potential in anonymity and discretion. So, its city life from here on out. 

 

For now, Gentle Reader, the hunt continues. If I did not appreciate my current and soon to be previous landlords before, I am certainly filled with gratitude for them now. Though considering the situation, I cannot resent them for wishing to sell and find their rationale completely understandable, even if it is inconveniencing. Though I do believe their treatment of me has made my tastes more refined; while others would say snobbish, difficult, and picky. Yet, if I am going to spend the amount of money being advertised, then I believe my accommodations should compensate and create an environment and situation that works for me. In the end rentals refute roots and ensure that life remains unstable on the shifting sands, so a reasonable trade off should be convenience and workability; though the counter argument is always going to be, we keep the rain off your head and from being homeless, as if somehow that is a charitable statement. Where in reality it sounds almost twistedly Dickensian in the thought that one must be cruel to be kind. 

 

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader

Take Care

And As Always

Stay Well Read

 

M. Mary

 

 

To Read an extract from Deborah Levy’s newest autobiographical prose work, please the following link to The Guardian:

 

The Guardian, Deborah Levy: "I’ve spent so much of my life dreaming of homes I cannot afford,"