Nobel Prize Odds. Samantha Arlotta. Sheep Lit. American Writers Are Dumb?

Call your bookie! Or have me call mine. Her name is Klaw.

Make “legal” bet here.

I feel good about an American winning since the head of the award said American

Writers are too stupid to win.

Odds on Winning Nobel Prize in Literature:

Claudio Magris

3/1

Adonis

4/1

Amos Oz

5/1

Joyce Carol Oates

5/1

Philip Roth

5/1

Don DeLillo

7/1

Haruki Murakami

7/1

Les Murray

7/1

Jean Marie Gustav Le Clezio

8/1

Yves Bonnefoy

10/1

Inger Christensen

14/1

Michael Ondaatje

14/1

Thomas Pynchon

14/1

Arnošt Lustig

20/1

Ismail Kadare

20/1

Ko Un

20/1

Mario Vargas Llosa

20/1

Thomas Transtromer

20/1

A.B Yehousha

25/1

Assia Djebar

25/1

Milan Kundera

25/1

Cees Nooteboom

33/1

Gitta Sereny

33/1

Harry Mulisch

33/1

James Ngugi

33/1

Margaret Atwood

33/1

Alice Munro

40/1

Antoni Tabucchi

40/1

Bei Dao

40/1

Carlos Fuentes

40/1

Peter Carey

40/1

Umberto Eco

40/1

Chinua Achebe

50/1

Cormac McCarhty

50/1

Herta Müller

50/1

Ian McEwan

50/1

John Updike

50/1

Mahasweta Devi

50/1

A. S. Byatt

66/1

David Malouf

66/1

Ernesto Cardenal

66/1

F. Sionil Jose

66/1

Marge Piercy

66/1

Maya Angelou

66/1

Salman Rushdie

66/1

Willy Kyrklund

66/1

Adam Zagajewski

100/1

Beryl Bainbridge

100/1

E.L Doctorow

100/1

Eeva Kilpi

100/1

John Banville

100/1

Jonathan Little

100/1

Julian Barnes

100/1

Mary Gordon

100/1

Michael Tournier

100/1

Patrick Modiano

100/1

Paul Auster

100/1

Rosalind Belben

100/1

Vassilis Aleksakis

100/1

William H Gass

100/1

Bob Dylan

150/1

Go Murakami!!!!

Here’s a side bet if you are a big-time player:

Thomas Pynchon to win and attend the Nobelfest (10th Dec. 2008) 40/1

*

We Shoplifted
Samantha Arlotta

all the books we couldn’t afford
and cases of beer,
expensive liquor
We’d just walk out with them
under our coats or sometimes
out in the open like we’d
already paid
keeping an even pace
You were the same as me,
at least in the respect
You could steal anything
nailed down, chained or otherwise

We were drunk for
three months straight
I’d dropped out but you were
still in school somehow
It got to the point where we could
take down a 750 each without much
feeling and I was smaller then
than I am now
couldn’t have weighed more than
a hundred and ten pounds
You wore a long coat and I’d
sing myself hoarse if I drank enough
I remember one night at my aunt’s house
in Azusa
we woke up at 2 AM still reeling
and you chased me onto the front lawn
in a white sheet
the grass was wet and you
tore the sheet away from me
spun me around naked and it was
warm, high summer
quiet in the streets with no cars
no movement
just us
You told me I was beautiful and
should never wear clothes
You ran your hands over me and then you
threw me to the ground
but we were so drunk we just
talked about Marilyn Monroe and
Elvis until the sun came up
Your eyes were blue or green
I can never remember
and eventually I lost everything we stole

*

I like most any sheep literature.

Wild Sheep Chase.

Daniel Bailey’s new Sheep poem in Lamination Colony.

THE SHEEP CHILD

by James L. Dickey
Farm boys wild to couple
With anything      with soft-wooded trees
With mounds of earth      mounds
Of pinestraw      will keep themselves off
Animals by legends of their own:
In the hay-tunnel dark
And dung of barns, they will
Say    I have heard tell
That in a museum in Atlanta
Way back in a corner somewhere
There’s this thing that’s only half
Sheep      like a woolly baby
Pickled in alcohol      because
Those things can’t live.      his eyes
Are open      but you can’t stand to look
I heard from somebody who …
But this is now almost all
Gone. The boys have taken
Their own true wives in the city,
The sheep are safe in the west hill
Pasture      but we who were born there
Still are not sure. Are we,
Because we remember, remembered
In the terrible dust of museums?
Merely with his eyes, the sheep-child may
Be saying      saying
I am here, in my father’s house.
I who am half of your world, came deeply
To my mother in the long grass
Of the west pasture, where she stood like moonlight
Listening for foxes. It was something like love
From another world that seized her
From behind, and she gave, not lifting her head
Out of dew, without ever looking, her best
Self to that great need. Turned loose, she dipped her face
Farther into the chill of the earth, and in a sound
Of sobbing      of something stumbling
Away, began, as she must do,
To carry me. I woke, dying,
In the summer sun of the hillside, with my eyes
Far more than human. I saw for a blazing moment
The great grassy world from both sides,
Man and beast in the round of their need,
And the hill wind stirred in my wood,
My hoof and my hand clasped each other,
I ate my one meal
Of milk, and died
Staring. From dark grass I came straight
To my father’s house, whose dust
Whirls up in the halls for no reason
When no one comes      piling deep in a hellish mild corner,
And, through my immortal waters,
I meet the sun’s grains eye
To eye, and they fail at my closet of glass.
Dead, I am most surely living
In the minds of farm boys: I am he who drives
Them like wolves from the hound bitch and calf
And from the chaste ewe in the wind.
They go into woods      into bean fields      they go
Deep into their known right hands. Dreaming of me,
They groan      they wait      they suffer
Themselves, they marry, they raise their kind.
**
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10 responses to “Nobel Prize Odds. Samantha Arlotta. Sheep Lit. American Writers Are Dumb?

  1. Anyone is better than that crazy Austrian writer Jelena whatsit. The movie made from her book, The Piano Teacher- was THEE nastiest thing I’ve ever seen. Sort of brilliant, actually.

    I vote for Roth.

    I really liked the “We shoplifted” poem very much.

  2. that Arlotta poem is really sharp stuff.

    also, my vote’s on Munro.

  3. Munro would be just as good. I just have an feeling it will be Roth.

  4. sheep are fun to write about hurting. also, as an american writer i strive to be dumb.

  5. People are dumping money on Joyce Carol Oates–she went from 50/1 to 5/1 in a couple days. I smell a fix.

  6. Hmm… it seems that you have a talent in writing, great blog. Add to my feed reader!

  7. J to the C to the O! Upon the Sweeping Flood and Where are you going, where have you been? are two really really good stories. I liked three or four of the six novels of hers I read. So, in other words, I haven’t read much of her work.

  8. If Oates wins I will read her first 84 novels, but then that’s it.

    S

  9. Hoping for Roth. Haven’t read him but planning on reading Zuckerman Unbound over Christmas break. McCarthy also very much deserving, as others. But not really matter that much. Nobel never EVER gets it right. Just see list of past winners and should have winners dating back to when Tolstoy was jipped. TOLSTOY!

  10. that arlotta poem..
    i was there..
    i mean yea i stole stuff so what.

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