For the first time in 35 years, the Pulitzer Prize judges did not award a work of fiction. This, despite that fact that three very good finalists were up for consideration. They were, the late David Foster Wallace’s The Pale King, Karen Russell’s Swamplandia and Denis Johnson’s Train Dreams.
Needless to say, the Pulitzer committee beat a hasty retreat with no explanation given. No doubt for the obvious reason that they could not string a sentence of explanation together themselves, or, for that matter, recognize a good sentence if it was presented to them. It’s quite sad, in this reader’s honest opinion, that when the average person reads fewer and fewer books every year the Pulitzer Prize committee seems to agree with the majority of the population which is constantly saying: “There is nothing worth reading”. Or, even worse, “It is not worth your time to read.”
But…perhaps I am too harsh? Maybe the Pulitzer judges were simply too busy. They were probably so terribly caught up in The Hunger Games trilogy that they simply did not have time to read these three excellent finalists.
Since they can’t seem to do their own job, does anyone mind terribly if I do it? This years Pulitzer Prize for fiction…no, wait, what am I thinking? Scratch that. Who cares about the Pulitzer now anyway? This years Persnickety Reader’s prize for fiction goes to The Pale King, by the late David Foster Wallace.