NBA!

by Michael

No, I'm not suddenly blogging about sports. That would be a stretch! I'm talking the National Book Awards, which were held last night (winners here). I was lucky enough to attend this year with the lovely and talented Sara Zarr, who was a judge in the Young People's Literature category. You can read a bit about her experience judging on her blog. I can only imagine how tough it must have been to whittle the books first down to five finalists, then down to one winner. I'm just glad it wasn't me!

The night was a lot of fun, meeting the other judges and some of the nominees, hobnobbing with illustrious publishing folk. I think it's the only event this year that can boast both Elmo and Tom Wolfe as speakers. (My only disappointment last night was in not meeting Elmo.) But the moment of the night was most definitely Patti Smith's acceptance speech for her nonfiction win for Just Kids. Already in tears as she walked to the stage, she recounted working at Scribner's bookstore years ago, and how she would shelve the National Book Award winners, dreaming that someday she would write a book that could win the award. It was so genuine and so endearing. Already popular, I knew she earned even more admirers last night.

I haven't had much time to scan the blogs today, but I'm curious what everyone thought of the winners. Has anyone even read the fiction winner?

The price of prizes....

by Miriam

Years ago I found myself positively gleeful at the news that Oscar Hijuelos had won a Pulitzer for his gorgeous novel, The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love. I’d not long before finished reading the book and was foisting it upon everyone and anyone—people would read it just to shut me up. Of course, part of my delight was due to the fact that Hijuelos was (and is) Cuban American, as am I. The prize seemed to validate not just my wonderful reading experience but also Hijuelos’ and my shared cultural memories and references.

A few days ago, I was thrilled to hear about another prize won by a Latin American author. This time, it was Mario Vargas Llosa’s Nobel, a prize that eluded him for decades—long after his arch-nemesis Gabriel Garcia Marquez won it and proceeded to rub it in his face at every gathering of illustrious Spanish speaking novelists (okay, maybe this just happens in my imagination and the first congratulatory phone call Mario received was from Gabriel).

On the one hand, it seems silly that these prizes (and their siblings, the Booker, the National Book Award, etc.) should in any way influence our regard for these authors. On the other, check out what the indefatigably witty Adam Gopnik says about this laudatory season.

Do prizes make you pick up books (or avoid them)? Do they influence how you view certain authors? Are you above such trifles?

Newbery, Caldecott, and a Faux Pas

by Stacey

The Pulitzers of children's books were announced this week, and the Newbery winner, Rebecca Stead's When You Reach Me, was tweeted about by an insider at Random House 17 minutes before the award was officially revealed. Oops. Such is the danger of the digital age. The post was taken down almost as soon as it was put up, and Random House has been quiet about the culprit.

The Caldecott for best illustrated book goes to Jerry Pinkney's The Lion and the Mouse, a wordless picture book.

If any of you blog readers have read or seen either of these and want to share your thoughts, we'd love to hear them!