|Glück, Louise. Vita Nova. Harper Collins, 1999.|
Things that came to my mind after learning that Louise Glück was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature:
1. Wow, they gave it to a poet everyone I know loves. It must be an encouragement, a sign that I should carry on writing poetry.
2. Awards are BS. It has a resume purpose. Determining who or what is good, better, and best is a task for consumers. Indeed I would pay attention to the award-winning section of the book store. One way of narrowing down choices on a lazy day. For every book standing there, I am missing out on undiscovered gems.
3. I don't like her. She is great at giving her words the effect of weight rather than actual weight. "It's evening, time for lying." Come on.
4. I haven't completely moved on from my destroyed books. My muscle reflexes had me walking towards my book shelf to browse through Glück's collections, to confirm Statement 3's validity. Except these collections along with works of other writers are now gone. Eaten by termites. What's left is Vita Nova. Another sign, perhaps. I would stare at the shelf and feel poor for all I've lost; but I would just have to believe that the universe has made space for even more glorious readings.