When I opened my laptop this morning I rushed to click on a “New Post” on WordPress because the Nobel Prize winner 2017 was to be announced at some point during the day. From time to time I think I should possibly start writing shorter posts and more frequent ones in order to keep a more or less regular record of my thoughts of the day, but I mostly fail to carry it through. I had put my diversion aside and bustle into the several tasks of my daily job. I confess I did throw a glance at the web during my breaks, then I scooped before I could share my preference on my personal cyber space. Online magazines and newspaper announce Murakami is the new Nobel laureate and twitter sparkled with tons of his pictures.
The mysterious mist around the Nobel Prize nominees somehow fascinates me. I’ve only recently found out that the full list of the annual nominees is not disclosed until fifty years later. Sometimes I cannot help thinking that there must be who knows how many, maybe millions, of literates that will never get into the spectrum of nominees and some of them may potentially even deserve it.
I was yearning to see Ngugi Wa Thiong’s name appearing as the winner. His name has been sweeping in the preferences a few times in the past years but the time for him to climb on the podium is yet to come. I though he may have good changes to be there this year, his contribution to literature so far has been massively appreciated. A post-colonial theorist, an eclectic writer, his has produced great works within both fiction and non-fiction.
Anyhow, this is my thought of the day when it’s almost past midnight and my commitment for the next few weeks is to read Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman, it’s already on my side and it’s been on hold for a while.
But let me just wrap this up with Ngugi’s excerpt.