His words nurtured our country when it was tired, war-torn and shivering. He spoke to us in such foreign terms that it was like we conversed in a language we didn’t speak, but were fluent in. He was the snarky, distasteful voice of reason. The voice from the back of the classroom, out of the mouth of the kid who just woke up but knew the answer.
I’m so elated that Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize in Literature.
I can’t pretend that I knew, or even had an inkling of an idea, that he was even in the race for this prize. I don’t think anyone knew he was up for the honor. The news didn’t strike me by surprise, though.
Since 1901, the Nobel Prizes have distinguished the legends from the crowd. Prizes are given out each year in medicine, physics, chemistry, literature, peace and economic sciences. The founder of the prizes, Alfred Nobel, wanted them to be given to those who purveyed “the greatest benefit to mankind.” Dylan’s words have moved and inspired countless souls. If his words have not embodied a great benefit to mankind, I can’t imagine what would.
I understand the backlash from the critics at the prize being awarded to a musician for the first time ever. (Some have even called on him to turn the award down.) Many people put Bob Dylan in the same category as the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles and the other rock icons of the sixties. All of whom are talented beyond belief, and all of whom would, understandably, never for a second be considered for a Nobel Prize.
It’s true that it’s not fair to factor in the emotion that Dylan’s harmonica, guitar and other accompaniment add to his music when discussing his worthiness of the prize for literature. If just music was up for debate here, Hendrix would have won the Nobel Prize five decades ago. So, we must separate the lyrics from the music to discover its literary merit.
A look at the works of the last poet to win the Nobel literature prize, Tomas Tranströmer, and Dylan’s works side-by-side reveals that the two seem like compatriots:
Dylan:
Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But Mona Lisa must’ve had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
Tranströmer:
The keys are willing. Soft hammers strike.
The resonance green, lively and calm.
The music says freedom exists
and someone doesn’t pay the emperor tax.
And so we return to the question: Does the fact that poetry is set to a background of music disqualify it from being considered poetry?
Sara Danius, the permanent secretary of the Swedish Academy, which decides the yearly literature prize, said in an interview after the announcement of the winner, “If you look back, you discover Homer and Sappho, and they wrote poetic texts that were meant to be listened to, that were meant to be performed … often together with instrument.”
The origin of lyric poetry began with instruments, so why does the literary world want to discredit Dylan? It doesn’t make sense.
As we mere mortals argue on and on about Dylan’s worthiness of the prize, Dylan is his typical self: aloof, and finding a way to remain above it all.
He doesn’t feel the need to publicly claim his prize, and his website only recently acknowledged it; he still hasn’t responded to the academy, and it remains to be seen whether he’ll attend the Nobel Prize ceremony.
Danius said she’s not worried about about his appearance at the ceremony.
“If he doesn’t want to come, he won’t come. It will be a big party in any case and the honor belongs to him.”
She’s right: The honor belongs to him.
Contact CU Independent Staff Writer Kim Habicht at kim.habicht@colorado.edu.
