Well, in all honesty, I guess I can’t really say that Cormac McCarthy was robbed of the Nobel Prize in Literature. Mario Vargas Llosa is a worthy winner even if I wasn’t pulling for him.
But what’s most worth discussing (possibly to the point of revealing some glaring literary inadequacy in myself) is that Cormac McCarthy’s possibility of receiving the Nobel is the only time I’ve really gotten fired up about the award, the only time I felt like cheering, somehow rooting on an author, as though I were watching a sporting event. I mean, I wanted to wear a Blood Meridian T-shirt yesterday and invite pals over for a beer to await the announcement.
Looking over the list of past Nobel winners, I certainly admire all the names there. I certainly respect them. But I can’t say that I am a huge fan of many people at all. I can’t say I felt a rooting interest in their candidacy. Which might reflect something on my reading tastes. But hopefully in the coming years, I’ll have more inclination to cheer for some of the Nobel candidates.