After seeing the headlines that Vollman won the National Book Awards fiction prize in the NYT, and reading that story, I wanted to include a more permanent bookmark here, as the NYT’s story will eventually go behind its paid subscriber curtain, and as far as stories go, it’s not that great, as in not that valuable — it’s the facts we’re after here, really. Nonetheless, here’s a bit from the Times’ article:
It was a surprise victory over for Mr. Vollmann over E. L. Doctorow, a previous winner and literary lion; Mary Gaitskill, a sentimental favorite for her piercing stories that demonstrate a willingness to challenge societal norms; and two other finalists. Among those most surprised was Mr. Vollmann himself, who accepted the award by saying, “I thought I would lose, so I didn’t prepare a speech.”
Once I got to the The National Book Foundation site, for the aforementioned permanent link, I noticed that acceptance speeches were available for reading. Not so, for Mr. Vollmann, however; not now and not ever. What would such a speech sound/read like, I wondered. John Barth (winner of the 1973 fiction award for Chimera) caught my eye. I clicked. He relied on Goethe:
In a letter to the Duke of Weimar, Goethe said, “I am convinced that it is almost as immodest to refuse a high distinction as stubbornly to strive to attain it.” I agree, despite the capriciousness and ephemerality of such distinctions. We all share the Tragic View of Literary Prizes; yet it would be boring if there were none, and it is more agreeable to shrug them off, having won them. A worthwhile literary prize, in my estimation, is one that on occasion will be awarded to a writer despite the fact that he or she deserves it.