The biggest musical voice of the 1960s, Bob Dylan, has finally been properly recognized for his legendarily influential songwriting. On Thursday, the singer was awarded a Nobel Prize in literature, considered by many to be the highest annual literary award.
However, it appears Dylan couldn’t be any less impressed. Six days after receiving the prize, he still hasn’t publicly acknowledged the award.
The distributor of the Nobel Prizes, the Swedish Academy, has given up trying to contact Dylan after numerous ignored emails and phone calls. Whether or not Dylan will show up to the Dec. 10 awards ceremony is still a mystery.
Given Dylan’s history with reclusiveness and introversion, this reaction — or lack thereof — comes as no surprise to any of his fans. Either he really doesn’t want this award, he has virtually no interest in making a speech or both.
The Swedish Academy has been known for giving out oddball awards in the past. For example, none of us understand why President Obama and Al Gore have won peace prizes. Most of the literature prizes are given to incredibly obscure writers very few people in the United States may know about.
In fact, the most recent winner, besides Dylan, I actually recognize is Samuel Beckett in 1969.
I’m sure I’m not the only one either, yet it appears almost everyone is up in arms about this win, especially the younger generation that didn’t grow up with Dylan’s music. I’m sure if it were just some other Slavic or French name on the list in lieu of Dylan, very few would have an opinion on it.
For some reason there has always been this preconceived idea among readers that songwriting is not considered literature. I still have difficulty wrapping my head around this prospect.
If it’s because lyrics are meant to be heard and not read, shouldn’t the same argument be made for plays? No one, especially Shakespeareans, questions the literary merit of playwriting.
Dylan has more than enough merit on his part too. His first major singles, “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “The Times They Are A Changin’,” were revered in their time as anthems to the American Civil Rights and anti-Vietnam war movements. He wrote those as a man in his early twenties.
His precision and artistry only grew from there.
“I try my best / To be just like I am / But everybody wants you / To be just like them,” Dylan said in “Maggie’s Farm.”
“Every man’s conscience is vile and depraved / You cannot depend on it to be your guide / When it’s you who must keep it satisfied,” he said in “The Man in the Long Black Coat.”
“Don’t go mistaking paradise for that home across the road,” he said in “The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest.”
Of course, there is always this line from “Like a Rolling Stone,” one of the greatest songs of all time:
“You used to laugh about / Everybody that was hanging out / Now you don’t talk so loud / Now you don’t seem so proud / About having to be scrounging for your next meal.”
There are several more songs like “Desolation Row,” “Ballad of a Thin Man” and “Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again” that are simply too grandiose and epic to select certain lyrics.
I dare you to try to say Nobel winners like William Faulkner, Mark Twain and John Steinbeck wouldn’t be impressed with such poetry. All of these writers explored the same themes of corruption, poverty and human cruelty in their writing as Dylan did. They would have understood one another.
I understand the appeal of trying to introduce readers to new and prolific writers, but perhaps with all the negativity in 2016, a positive change should be made by the Swedish Academy.
Perhaps this groundbreaking win could open the possibilities of screenwriters and playwrights to be more recognized in the future. A redefinition of our concept of art and literature is definitely in order.
Indeed, the times really are a changin’.
