Illustration: Aisling McGuire
The decision to choose Bob Dylan as the 2016 Nobel Laureate in Literature has sparked divided opinion and debate. Barbara Campos considers both sides of the argument.
Bob Dylan’s songs have been described as Homeric and literary, even if the songwriter sometimes seems to shy away from such high praise -“the academics, they ought to know. I’m not really qualified. I don’t have any opinion.”
Funny and mysterious, Dylan was definitely an interesting and innovative choice from a committee that sometimes ignores writers of great talent. The statement released said quite simply and succinctly why Dylan deserved the win – “for having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition.”
In 114 years of the Nobel Prize in Literature there had never been a laureate who was involved in the art of songwriting. In the weeks leading up to the announcement, articles focused on writers like Philip Roth, Haruki Murakami and Adunis – Dylan wasn’t even a contender.
“In 114 years there has never been a laureate involved in the art of songwriting, until now.”
Following the announcement some expressed jubilation at the choice, but there were also those that were very sceptical. Some were even angry, asking almost in desperation: how did this happen? Twitter and Facebook exploded with posts that justified or questioned the decision.
Perhaps, the most striking aspect of all this was that for, maybe the first time ever, it felt like people did not have to pretend to be acquainted with someone’s work. Dylan is the first of all winners that is widely listened to, and it is not just a victory for him but for all lyrical songwriters.
Dylan’s songs are a natural continuation of the English literary tradition. Most negative reactions after the announcement seem have been because his words are best understood when accompanied by music, they do not stand alone. It’s very easy to forget that poetry as we know it is part of an oral tradition. Just because something doesn’t exist in print from the start it does not mean it is not as worthy. Dylan’s work is still part of this historical oral tradition. ‘A Had Rain’s A-Gonna Fall’ is clearly part of the ballad tradition, especially because of his use of the question and answer form.
“Oh, where have you been, my blue eyed son?
Oh and where have you been my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways.”
Established writers and scholars have for a long time acknowledged Dylan’s genius. When this song came out in 1963, the poet Allen Ginsberg, an influence on Dylan himself, cried because he felt “the torch had been passed on to another generation”.
Christopher Ricks, former Professor of Poetry in Oxford, and an eminent scholar of modern poetry, has dedicated his time both to extensively annotating T.S. Eliot, and writing on Dylan. One of his points, familiar to anyone studying English and close-reading, is Dylan’s use of prepositions:
“Everything that constitutes a Dylan song in performance must matter, since a work of art is an organic whole… That includes what might seem to be very small changes indeed. Take Dylan’s art with those humble workaday words, prepositions. Here his variants encompass a great deal: the different impetus, say in… ‘Don’t fear if you hear/A foreign sound to your ear,” as against ‘…A foreign sound in your ear.”
“There is always a bittersweet feeling after hearing yet another old white man has won the Nobel.”
It is this attention to minute details that differentiates him from the ordinary singer-songwriter, and catapults him into the realm of literature. However, there is always a bittersweet feeling after hearing yet another old white man has won the Nobel. In 114 winners, only 14 are women, and only a handful were people of colour.
A lot of what Dylan has to say about women can sometimes feel clichéd. ‘Lay Lady Lay’ plays with the idea of the rugged male – “His clothes are dirty but his hands are clean” – and the ever-so-frail female. In ‘Just like a Woman’ the woman is a trickster, “she fakes”, and “makes love like a woman” but she is also feeble, she “breaks”, and “aches” like a “little girl”. There is also that very dubious advertisement for Victoria’s Secret where Dylan appears drooling over half naked girls. The academy has once again managed to perpetuate the power of the white male.
Nevertheless, this is a small victory, not just for Dylan but for all worthy songwriters. In a way it cements songwriting as part of “high culture”, and, perhaps, in some years songs will be a part of the English curriculum in schools, and students may study Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Van Morrison and Joni Mitchell, in conjunction with Shakespeare, Dickens, and Joyce.
This is also the reason many people felt disappointed at Dylan’s response, or rather lack of response to decision. It was a chance for him to make a stance for the sake of others too. The New York Times wondered whether Dylan might refuse the prize, like Jean Paul Sartre who at the time of his win said he would not “allow himself to be transformed into an institution”. After this backlash the Telegraph managed to get hold of him, and his response was naturally that he was very surprised and happy, and said that he would be at the ceremony “if it’s at all possible.” We will have to wait to find out what exactly that means.
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