The problem with the Nobel Prize in Literature is that everyone cares about it.
Everyone has their own opinion about who should be awarded it and why every year it is awarded to the wrong one.
There was a relative consensus in public opinion in 2016 when the prize was given to Bob Dylan.
He's not exactly a literary man, of course, but everyone generally treats him well - the floral protest of the sixties, the cute antiwar pathos, the youth of mankind in a rock and roll suit, two albums in the top ten greatest discs of all time.
In general, a worthy laureate does not cause irritation either.
Usually, people wonder why the prize was given to this or that.
As a rule, there is some kind of opportunistic explanation.
There is an opinion that in 2012 the Chinese writer Mo Yan received the prize, because to some extent he represents, firstly, the opposition to the official Chinese regime, and secondly, the racial minority relative to the majority of the laureates.
That is, as if for reasons of political correctness it was necessary to give a prize to the Chinese.
Maybe so.
Especially if we take into account the rather moderate artistic value of the books of this author.
Or, say, it is believed that Svetlana Aleksievich was given the award because she says nasty things about Russia and about official Belarus.
It should be noted here that her books of the late eighties are indeed of some interest.
This does not mean that they are truthful and accurate, but they are interesting.
Her later works are very weak and sad as evidence of the author's creative weakness.
But it seems that it is also understandable - Aleksievich personifies the frontier intellectual elite.
This is naturally worthy of the prize.
Let be.
But further, the system of assessments of the man in the street inevitably fails.
In 2018, the prize was awarded to Olga Tokarchuk, a Polish writer.
What is she famous for and who can say with confidence what she writes about?
There are, of course, specialists, there are intellectuals and there are those who became interested in the writer after she was awarded the prize.
But it would be cunning to say that this is a world famous writer, whose award has caused a wide resonance.
Many people know Mario Vargas Llosa or Peter Handke.
The latter is mainly as the author of the script for the film "Sky over Berlin".
But Modiano, Munroe, Transtroemera, Leclezio, Jelinek, Fo?
In ordinary conversation, someone may say - is this the one who was given the Nobel Prize some year there?
The 2020 prize went to Louise Gluck.
And this again will not irritate anyone.
It's a pity.
They could have awarded Lyudmila Ulitskaya - she has been a favorite among bookmakers for several years.
Here there would be a field for a full-fledged scandal in the usual liberal-patriotic disposition with all possible stereotypes.
Nothing, we'll wait.
Until then, Louise Gluck.
What do we know about her?
We must admit that most of us have not heard of Louise at all.
Even many people who were directly involved in literature - critics, writers, publishers - confessed to me that only after the news of the Nobel Committee's decision they first read her poems.
Lives in Massachusetts, collaborates with Yale, then with the University of Iowa, was born in 1943, comes from a family of Hungarian Jews.
Louise Gluck is characterized as a poet of an autobiographical manner - she writes about her experiences, traumas, about her sensual and existential experience.
In other words, this is a lyricist in the classical sense.
Here are some of her lines:
"EROS
At the hotel, pulling a chair to the window, I watch the rain.
It was either a dream or a trance -
I loved and yet
didn't want anything.
I didn't want to touch or see you.
I wanted one:
room, chair, hum of rain,
for hours in the warmth of a spring night. "
Or:
"At the end of misery
a door appeared.
Listen to me:
what you call death,
I remember.
Rustles from above, swaying branches.
And - failure.
Dim sun
shimmers over a bare surface. "
By today's standards, let's be honest, these are very good poems.
There is no call to fight against masculine oppression, patriarchy and white supremacy.
But there is a very appropriate rainy and sad October mood.
Is it worthy of the Nobel Prize?
At least not to a lesser extent than active citizenship.
The peculiarity of the Nobel Prize in Literature is that everyone thinks they can assess the degree of its fairness and appropriateness.
The Nobel Prize in Chemistry, Medicine, Physics was awarded the same week.
The Chemistry Prize went to Jennifer Doudna and Emmanuelle Charpentier for their discovery of genome editing.
On this score, it is not just difficult to have an opinion, but practically impossible - fundamental science for the layman is not something dark, but simply impenetrable.
Dali means they deserve it.
Physics was given for black holes?
This is certainly not our business.
Our salaries are not the ones to understand black holes, let the scientists think and decide.
But literature can be appreciated by anyone reading.
And everyone has their own opinion about what they read - that is why the prize for literature evokes such public interest and wide resonance.
But this year the Nobel Committee seems to be telling us: disperse, there is nothing to look at, there is nothing interesting here.
After a couple of months, you will forget who received this award, and you certainly will not be able to remember it in a year.
For now, just read a couple of new poems for you.
The world's premier award reflects the current environment.
Is there really new and interesting literature in the disastrous world of 2020?
Does this world care about literature now?
Do we expect new answers and universal explanations from literature?
Do we see a writing prophet who silently corrects everything?
No, we do not see.
The Nobel Committee does not see it either.
And it turns out not that a prize, but a generalized opinion.
Therefore, for now, we are just reading verses.
The author's point of view may not coincide with the position of the editorial board.