A Prestigious Prize for Pinter

A day or two ago, the Nobel committee announced that it has awarded this year’s Nobel Prize for Literature to the British playwright Harold Pinter (photo at left, courtesy of REUTERS and Kieran Doherty). I believe this is the first time (at least in a long while) this particular prize, the highest honor any writer in any genre and of any nationality can ever dream to win, is given to a playwright. The jury behind the selection said his work “uncovers the precipice under everyday prattle and forces entry into oppression’s closed rooms.” Not a bad description for the creative output of a man whose politics (he is a fierce critic of Bush and Blair and their foreign policies) is as well-known as his art.

I first heard of Pinter’s reputation several years ago, but from among his plays The Dumb Waiter remains to be the only one I’ve read so far. It was not an easy read; I had trouble understanding this ominous and understated play at first, and it was during a playreading session with Rody Vera and several stage actors that I finally got it, and it blew me away. One day, I hope to read another play of his, Betrayal, famed for its unconventional narrative structure, as well as watch the film The French Lieutenant's Woman, which he adapted from John Fowles' novel. But right now, it feels nice to know that a playwright won the honor this year.