Thursday, 13 October 2016

'All the clowns that you have commissioned...'

Today, I applaud the brilliant irrelevance of the Nobel committee. Murakami is an awful writer anyway.

By this point, you should have learnt not to overreact. To anything. So I hope it would not be too much of an overreaction to say I don't have a problem with Dylan getting the Nobel Prize in literature.

Not because of Winston Churchill. Not because of some playwright from Mongolia who got the Nobel prize before a million great writers now dead or living. Not because of Obama. Not even because of the president of Colombia. But simply because I think the man deserves it.

If this opens floodgates, so be it. They have been open since John Updike died anyway. And I would love to see Leonard Cohen get it, too.

Not that Cohen would ever get it. After all, this was just a bunch of old men trying to be hip and incidentally (or accidentally?) doing something wicked. But since Dylan's book of lyrics has fascinated me since I was a little boy listening to "Visions Of Johanna" for the first time, I’m delighted. 

Even that first time, the poetry was physical, real and absolutely wonderful. Now, if he is awarded for this by a group of awkward men at a disco party, who the hell cares?