n ext week revealed a series of secrets. Specifically, one day, starting on Monday. Then the world will know who gets the 2015 Nobel Prize in Medicine. On Tuesday announced that Nobel Laureate in Physics, Wednesday chemistry, on Friday the Peace Prize and the following Monday announced who gets the Sveriges Riksbank Prize in economics in memory of Alfred Nobel.
But hemligast of all is the Nobel Prize in Literature. So far, it is even a secret when the secret will be revealed. In all probability it will be this Thursday at 13 that the Swedish Academy’s permanent secretary Sara Danius open that door to the Exchange Hall to announce who gets the most prestigious literature prize.
How the choice of laureates has gone to is – of course – a secret. In 50 years.
Next, the Nobel Committee documents available and at best seen from them how members once argued, the writers they advocated and in which way. SvD contributor Kaj Schueler usually every year when the secrecy lifted visit the Swedish Academy’s Nobel archives to unearth the story of the selection of winners. It’s always exciting – after the new year, I hope, for example, get to know more about any Soviet pressure associated with Mikhail Sholokhov (“And Quiet Flows the Don”) was awarded the 1965th
By Wästberg, chairman of the Swedish Academy Nobel Committee, ajar slightly on the veil in a understreckare about the decision. He takes up some pole shots in history, dismisses that elections would be political and refutes the myth that the price would be a curse which unfailingly leads to writer’s block. For example, he suggests that the “Museum of Innocence”, written by the Nobel Prize, is Orhan Pamuk’s best novel.
The thread would I want to raise. I have just read two Nobel Laureates books, both written after the authors have received the award, which must qualify as one of the best they have written: Thomas Mann’s “Doctor Faustus”, in a nice new translation by Ulrika Wall Power, and Orhan Pamuk’s “A strangeness in my mind “, which has just been published in English translation by Ekin Oklap (” A strange feeling “is the title when Norstedts publishes novel in Swedish at the end of March). Of approximately 600 pages was based writers throughout the universe. It hurts when they run out and you have to leave their worlds.
In many ways, the books are different from each other – Mann’s classic about the composer Adrian Leverkühn who sells his soul to the devil and Pamuk’s new novel portrays street vendor Mevlut Karatas hikes through the ever changing Istanbul. But there are common denominators. Both authors are passionate about their respective cultures and allows its readers wash over them. In their writings we find an unconditional love for the German and Turkish, but also a sadness, a sadness – Wehmut in German, hüzün in Turkish – about what their homelands, home towns have had to go through and shaped into. This ambivalence has conversely also influenced the perception of themselves in their home countries. Their books are loved, but has also been hated; Nazis burned Mann’s books at the stake and Pamuk have been prosecuted for “insulting the Turkish identity” under the notorious makes it unlawful 301.
Both authors are deeply influenced by their environments, but the also applies vice versa. They are actually directly visible in their respective city images.
Thomas Mann, who won the Nobel Prize in 1929, left Germany in 1933. He never moved back, but is said to have been planning to return after the war. The project should have fallen on the regulations did not permit that he built his villa in Munich as it was before it was bombed. He settled instead in Switzerland, where he died in 1955. Today, oddly enough though Thomas Mann’s house on the same plot in the upscale district of Munich Herzog Park. A few years ago sounded then-Goldman Sachs chief represented in Germany, Alexander Dibelius, build an exact copy – at least externally seen – by the Nobel Laureate grand villa. In the spring sold the banker the 1200 square-foot house for a record amount of 280 million crowns. As an irony of fate named purchaser, an entrepreneur from northern Germany, Thomas Mann, with an s at the end.
Orhan Pamuk , which was the Nobel Prize winner in 2006, has lived abroad in batches, but always returned to Istanbul – just like in the books. He lives in the district of Cihangir, the neighboring farm with Cukurcuma, where he has allowed establish an Innocence museum with a nostalgic collection of objects linked to the novel figures Kemal and Fusun in the book “Museum of Innocence”. In this way, the novel brought to life also in the real Istanbul. Visitors would do well to take the book – it serves as admission ticket to the museum.
Mann and Pamuk opens the doors to the secret room in their respective cultures. It is wonderful to be staying there. When the Nobel Prize is that best gives the readers the keys in.
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