From the Nobel committee–
The Nobel Prize in Literature for 2011 is awarded to the Swedish poet Tomas Tranströmer “because, through his condensed, translucent images, he gives us fresh access to reality”.
Here’s Tranströmer’s “After a Death,” translated by Robert Bly—
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 hear the heart beat
but often the shadow seems more real than the body.
The samurai looks insignificant
beside his armor of black dragon scales.
Biblioklept 
I am so angry! How could it not be Phillip Roth! We’ve demanded it be him, how are those pretentious Europeans not listening? And a poet? Who reads poetry anymore?
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This is where I wonder about sarcasm punctuation or whether I’ve posted often enough to make such a thing not necessary. Also, I’ve on the last book of poetry that I own and so was looking to figure out who I would read next. May as well copy the others who jump on and read the Nobel winner right afterwards, right?
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PT, I knew you were being sarcastic, for what it’s worth.
I was almost positive it wouldn’t be Roth, or an American, or even a writer who writes in English.
Have you read any of R. Carver’s poetry? I picked up a volume last year and I dig it.
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I have, but not in years. I read it when I was reading everything by Carver, so I read it less to read poetry and more to read Carver. I don’t remember it all, but strangely, I remember exactly where I was when reading it — sitting in the back of my parent’s car with my sisters, on the way to a cousin’s wedding, at which my oldest sister told me Carver was passe, which was when I realized as a young college student that I really needed to work against becoming pretentious.
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I don’t think it’s strange at all that you remember where you were when you read it. I almost always remember where I was and what was happening in my life when I read a book—almost more than the book itself, usually. I sometimes think that my intense love of DFW’s Infinite Jest has much to do with the facts/circumstances of when/how I read it: I had just finished college that summer and moved to Tokyo like 9 days after the 9/11 attacks; while I was excited to have a new job in a wholly foreign place, I also missed my college friends intensely, and of course I felt my language isolation intensely. I became addicted to the book.
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