Rolling Maul

I’m really quite glad that Bob got a Nobel nod for literature, no matter what the motives were (probably shoring up the US market).

I can’t think of a wordsmith that’s had more impact. Yes, dot.

And mostly he crafted it with sublime and yet accessible originality. And with unphilosophical grace.

Uniquely, for the young and eager, it will be a pleasure to catch up on the works of the so awarded.

Many years back, under just such circumstances, I recall tough-mudding my way through Patrick White’s Voss.

Surely he could write, but I concluded that his primary motivation was to display this fact.

Towards the end of the Quixotic crusade I was planning a micro-bonfire.

When the purpose of, and the motivation behind art is art, then you have one of those situations where the question and the answer are Vennishly co-located.

The results can be clever and intriguing but never inspiring, nor motivating. Unless among the sponges one includes the similarly deluded and their fawning devotees.

Which brings me to my core hypothesis – great art requires two ingredients; great artistry and an absence of locational dissonance.

As in, if you’re heading anywhere interesting then you wouldn’t be starting from here, mate. If here is where I think it is, then so is there.

No one is quite sure whence Bob emerged. However it was undoubtedly not here nor there; he just made his rounds.

You could follow him to the end of the world and probably not regret it.