I read an insane amount. I shop for books like some women go after Manolo Blahniks, and enjoy the smell of a good bookstore as much as those women do the smell of leather.
\nBooks, magazines, blogs: to me the written word is a constant source of delight. When someone asks me what I do for a living, I say I\u2019m a writer. But if someone asked me \u201cWhat are you?\u201d I\u2019d have to answer that I\u2019m a reader.<\/p>\n
Last year, I read more than 50 books. I read about five magazines a week \u2013 some for pleasure, but most just because I have to keep track of what people are writing about in the publications in which I aspire to be published.<\/p>\n
One of my goals is to read at least one book by every author who has won the Nobel Prize for Literature. I read a lot of prize winning books, but those \u2013 Orange Prize, National Book Award, the Booker \u2013 refer to a single work. The Nobel is about a body of work by a single person. You\u2019d think that those people would have staying power. But it\u2019s funny: look at the list of Nobel winners<\/a> and I dare you to know who most of the winners from the first 30 years are. The first prize was awarded to Ren\u00e9 Sully-Prudhomme in 1901. Who? He was a French poet and philosopher. I have yet to find a book of his in translation, although I\u2019ve read some of his work through a series of Nobel publications, the Nobel Prize Library.<\/p>\n His award was considered a coup for the first presentation, as he was a member of the Acad\u00e9mie Fran\u00e7aise. It was kind of sad, though: he was too sick to come pick up his award himself. Rather than a member of the Acad\u00e9mie in his full academic uniform, they got a minister in a regular suit. He put aside the money for young writers, and I believe a prize in his name is still awarded in France. I don\u2019t know how widely he\u2019s read, though.<\/p>\n To say the diary entries are tedious is generous. His poetry is very florid \u2013 full of \u201cAlas!\u201d and \u201cO blissful\u201d. But I like at least one of his poems:<\/p>\n The Broken Vase<\/em><\/p>\n The vase that holds this dying rose, And yet the line, so light, so slight The water sinks, the petals fall, Thus oft the heard is lightly bruised Though to the world our life seems whole, I\u2019m probably at a bit of a loss for divining good poetry from bad, though, since I didn\u2019t study it in school.<\/p>\n That list of winners, it haunts me. Before I die, I want to read something from every winner. They did something to merit the attention of the world. Should they really be forgotten, or unknown?<\/p>\n The latest winner: Jean-Marie Gustave Le Cl\u00e9zio (in translation \u2013 my French reading skills have diminished significantly since I got my very practical masters degree in French Revolutionary History), and something by winner number two: Theodore Mommsen, a German classicist and historian who specialized in Roman Law. I\u2019m afraid already.<\/p>\n In 2006, I discovered the winner from 1955, Haldor Laxness, who I never would have heard of if I hadn\u2019t printed out a list of winners. He\u2019s from Iceland and you can see the old Icelandic saga in his work. I liked Paradise Reclaimed<\/em> better than Under the Glacier<\/em>, but I see the man\u2019s talent in both. I wonder why such obvious talent is lost. You\u2019d think a Nobel prize would guarantee some sort of longevity. Last year I searched out S. Y. Agnon. Actually, that\u2019s what spurred the list search: I read about him in the autobiography of Amos Oz, A Tale of Love and Darkness<\/em>. I\u2019d never heard of him, so I found the list of laureates<\/a>.<\/p>\n I dare you to count the number you\u2019ve heard of and how many of those you\u2019ve actually read. Me? I\u2019m off to see what Mommsen\u2019s got to offer. And I\u2019m open to suggestions on Jean-Marie.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I read an insane amount. I shop for books like some women go after Manolo Blahniks, and enjoy the smell of a good bookstore as much as those women do the smell of leather. Books, magazines, blogs: to me the written word is a constant source of delight. When someone asks me what I do…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[772,111,146,147],"class_list":["post-5","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","tag-books","tag-intro","tag-nobel","tag-nobel-project"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/landguppy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/landguppy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/landguppy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/landguppy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/landguppy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/landguppy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/landguppy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/landguppy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/landguppy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nTapped lightly by a lady\u2019s fan,
\nCracked at this slightest of all blows,
\nThough not an eye the flaw could scan.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nEtched ever deeper on the bowl,
\nSpread to the left, spread to the right,
\nUntil it circled round the whole.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nYet none divines, no word is spoken;
\nThe surface seems intact to all;
\nAh! Touch it not \u2013 the vase is broken.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nBy some slight word of those we cherished;
\nYet through the wound our blood has oozed and lo! The flower of love has perished.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nThe hidden wound is unforgot;
\nIt grows and weeps within the soul;
\nThe heart is broken \u2013 touch it not.<\/em><\/p>\n