For the first time in 37 years, the Literature Prize has gone to a home-grown author. Nobelprize.org only has the English announcement, and so it lacks misses the crowd’s wonderful response when the Swedish announcement was made. You can hear the response on this audio clip from Sveriges Radio.
The response online has been a mixture of the usual “Who?”, but followed by an endless glut of “Transformer” jokes. So for those of you not familiar with Tranströmer (including me, it has to be said), here’s a brief rundown of his life and work.
Poets.org has a nice, brief biography of Tranströmer, a brief excerpt of which is below:
On April 15, 1931, Tomas Tranströmer was born in Stockholm, Sweden. He attended the University of Stockholm, where he studied psychology and poetry.
One of Sweden’s most important poets, Tranströmer has sold thousands of volumes in his native country, and his work has been translated into more than fifty languages.
His books of poetry in English include The Sorrow Gondola (Green Integer, 2010); New Collected Poems (Bloodaxe Books, 2011); The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems (New Directions, 2003); The Half-Finished Heaven (2001); New Collected Poems (1997); For the Living and the Dead (1995); Baltics (1974); Paths (1973); Windows and Stones (1972), an International Poetry Forum Selection and a runner-up for the National Book Award for translation; The Half-Finished Sky (1962); and Seventeen Poems (1954).
During the post-announcement interview, the permanent secretary of the Swedish Academy Peter Englund described Tranströmer’s work as follows:
“He is writing about the big questions: about death, history, memory, nature. Human beings are sort of the prism where all these great entities meet and it makes us important. You can never feel small after reading the poetry of Tomas Tranströmer.”
For people unfamiliar with Tranströmer’s work, Englund recommends beginning with The Half-finished Heaven & the New Collected Poems. There are plenty of websites that feature Tranströmer’s poetry. Here’s one example below.
AFTER A DEATH
Once there was a shock that left behind a long, shimmering comet tail. It keeps us inside. It makes the TV pictures snowy. It settles in cold drops on the telephone wires.
One can still go slowly on skis in the winter sun through brush where a few leaves hang on. They resemble pages torn from old telephone directories. Names swallowed by the cold.
It is still beautiful to feel the heart beat but often the shadow seems more real than the body. The samurai looks insignificant beside his armour of black dragon scales.
Or you can see Tranströmer reading one of his poems in this video.
I’ll leave the last word to Paul Muldoon at the New Yorker’s book blog. Rather than talk about yet another year when an American has missed out on the prize, Muldoon writes that it is “truly heartwarming” to see the prize going to Tranströmer, before adding:
“One can see how the Swedish Academy might have resisted giving the prize to a local boy out of some sense of propriety, so it’s great to see that sense of propriety give way to a more proper sense of the proprietary.”