NWR: Lit Nobel

originally posted by Jonathan Loesberg:
originally posted by MLipton:
originally posted by Oswaldo Costa:
The War of the End of the World is fabulous.

I agree, Oswaldo, but many of his other books have left me less than enthused. Since the Nobel is awarded for a body of work, I have my concerns, but again because I read them in English translation there is always the question of whether I have problems with the writing or the translation. Feast of the Goat, however, was a serious clunker (not to mention his foray into politics).

Mark Lipton

Officially, it's given for a body of work, and sometimes actually. But they surely gave it to Morrison with Beloved in mind and Garcia Marquez with 100 Years of Solitude in Mind. I expect with Vargas Llosa, though, they didn't have a single work in mind.

No love for The General in His Labyrinth? Or are you suggesting that Solitude was singularly significant above qualitative considerations?
 
originally posted by Tristan Welles:
originally posted by Jonathan Loesberg:
originally posted by MLipton:
originally posted by Oswaldo Costa:
The War of the End of the World is fabulous.

I agree, Oswaldo, but many of his other books have left me less than enthused. Since the Nobel is awarded for a body of work, I have my concerns, but again because I read them in English translation there is always the question of whether I have problems with the writing or the translation. Feast of the Goat, however, was a serious clunker (not to mention his foray into politics).

Mark Lipton

Officially, it's given for a body of work, and sometimes actually. But they surely gave it to Morrison with Beloved in mind and Garcia Marquez with 100 Years of Solitude in Mind. I expect with Vargas Llosa, though, they didn't have a single work in mind.

No love for The General in His Labyrinth? Or are you suggesting that Solitude was singularly significant above qualitative considerations?

Or for that matter Love in the Time of Cholera which is probably my personal favorite.
 
I was making a judgment about larger significance rather than aesthetic superiority. And I was second guessing what the Swedish jury was thinking. But I may have been swayed by my own admiration for 100 Years of Solitude. That doesn't mean I have no love left either for The General in His Labyrinth or Love in the Time of Cholera. Art may never betray the heart that loves it, but, fortunately, it also doesn't demand monogamy.
 
originally posted by Tristan Welles:

No love for The General in His Labyrinth? Or are you suggesting that Solitude was singularly significant above qualitative considerations?

Oh, I'd think that there's plenty of love for this book (and for "Cholera" too, Jay) but those books are read with the knowledge that Gabo was an Important Nobel Prize-Winning Writer, whereas when "100 Years of Solitude" came out he was just some guy from Columbia (the country of, not University of) with a wild imagination.

I see "100 Years of Solitude" as being the summation of what he'd learned about the craft of writing in his earlier works (I like "Innocent Erendira" a lot) without any filters on his imagination because nobody was expecting anything. After Cien Aos his books seemed more competently written, as if he'd had his fun playing around with words and was now focussing on plot and character development. Ruminations on aging and what it's like to be a retired head of state are interesting but they're rooted in reality and not the flights of fancy (literally) that transpired in his earlier work.

One (this one, at least) might also bring up the translators involved in these books. Gregory Rabassa's work on "100 Years of Solitude" was bouncy and captured the rhythm of the characters, their conversations, and their actions. Edith Grossman's fine work on both "General" and "Cholera" seemed to focus more on the narrative aspects of the plot. This might reflect Gabo's approach to writing these novels, but I found "100 Years of Solitude" easier to get lost in ('lost' in a good way) than I did with his latter works.

All of Garcia Marquez's writing offers enjoyable and/or thought-provoking reading, but as far as pure literary preference is concerned, "100 Years of Solitude" is my favorite of his milieu. I really should make the time to reread these books - it's been awhile since I last revisited them.

-Eden (I also prefer Beaujolais to Bordeaux but am happy to drink if that's what my host is pouring).
 
Without regard to Eden's evaluations, he makes another point with regard to the Nobel: neither of these novels played a role in the award as they were both written after he was given it.
 
I loved Love in the Time of Cholera, but I was enraptured by reading 100 Years of Solitude.

Reading that book was one of those delicious experiences that leaves such a deep impression that, say, thirty years later you can still remember where you were when you were reading the book, where you were sitting when you started reading and what the weather was like that day, and the feeling you had in the middle of the night when you finally finished reading. The details stick.

Living to Tell the Tale, translated by Edith Grossman, is also well worth reading.

As to Keith L.'s point about recent recipients, while I might disagree about a few of the recipients, I agree with the overall observation. The prize has become, in my opinion, too much about a certain kind of politics and high-minded seriousness and not enough about recognizing the writers and books that have left a mark.
 
originally posted by Jonathan Loesberg:
Without regard to Eden's evaluations, he makes another point with regard to the Nobel: neither of these novels played a role in the award as they were both written after he was given it.

hah! My ignorance is showing. I have to admit not paying much attention to the Nobel.
 
originally posted by SFJoe:
originally posted by MLipton:
As of last week, I do.
What a peculiar feeling to be the "HC Brown Professor."

From a personality standpoint, I'd much rather be the "Mark Lipton Professor."

You don't know the half of it, old thing. Since Negishi was a long-term postdoc for HCB (and one of the two keepers of the sacred flame for him now) it is entirely appropriate that he have the HCB chair. What is harder to countenance is that the first winner of the H C Brown Award for Creativity in Organic Synthesis was... H C Brown!! I mean, it's not like the guy was hard-up for recognition, you know???

Mark Lipton
 
Isn't it tacky to name a chair for someone who's still alive? (After all, if it's his chair and he's alive then he's the only one who should be sitting in it, right?)
 
originally posted by Jeff Grossman:
Isn't it tacky to name a chair for someone who's still alive? (After all, if it's his chair and he's alive then he's the only one who should be sitting in it, right?)

Endowed chairs are typically named for the person (or organization) supplying the endowment. Since that person is often alive at the time of endowment, it is far from uncommon to have a chair named for a living individual. Brown, whatever one thinks of him as a person, did make several generous donations to our department, one of which was used to endow a chair, another of which was used to endow a lecture series. Stanford did exactly the same thing with the well-regarded WS Johnson lecture series (sticking to my field).

Mark Lipton
 
originally posted by MLipton:
originally posted by Jeff Grossman:
Isn't it tacky to name a chair for someone who's still alive? (After all, if it's his chair and he's alive then he's the only one who should be sitting in it, right?)

Endowed chairs are typically named for the person (or organization) supplying the endowment. Since that person is often alive at the time of endowment, it is far from uncommon to have a chair named for a living individual. Brown, whatever one thinks of him as a person, did make several generous donations to our department, one of which was used to endow a chair, another of which was used to endow a lecture series. Stanford did exactly the same thing with the well-regarded WS Johnson lecture series (sticking to my field).

Mark Lipton
My graduate advisor has recently endowed a chair in his department, but it will be named for his wife alone until he retires.
 
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