I’ve always been in awe of the glitz and glamor of literary awards, of the books that surprisingly/predictably get/miss them and, of course, of their respective authors.
Some simple notions turn to mind maps in the present & insignificant blog post: Olympics & track events, Hollywood and the Oscars, and well… The Griffin Prize and the poetry books that suddenly everyone wants to read.
In as far as track events are concerned, it’s a fairly straightforward process: the starting block, the raw nerves, the sprint & the mad dash to cross – head first - the finishing line.
But how about poetry books…how are they judged? – which minute balance can weigh the afterburn of a metaphor or the segue into the next page?
Clearly a different kind of scorecard is in play.
I’ve been following the Griffin Poetry Prize for a couple of years now.
Each year a new detail has added to the experience: the date marked in my calendar, the reviews in The Toronto Star, the Book City bookstore on Danforth Ave. (at Logan) in Toronto which carries the Griffin Prize anthology and the winning books right at the time the winners are announced, a blog post, and a Twitter account.
This year, another point fills me with exhilaration.
I’d like to imagine what the winning books might look like based on who the judges are and how they write - a day-dreaming adventure in a maize of unsubstantiated conjectures.
As the wheel turns for the yet another laureate poet in the days to come, I will try to mind map, from the gradins of this blog, what his/her poems may look like.