In one of the most poignant ironies of global literary history, the creator of Things Fall Apart, doubtless the most famous African novelist, died without the Nobel Prize for Literature, undeniably the world’s grandest literary decoration. Long after Chinua Achebe’s death on March 21 at age 82, it is likely to remain a puzzle to many how it happened that the prestigious award eluded him. However, Achebe’s loss again prompts age-long questions about aesthetic objectivity and the determination of artistic value. He lived long enough and his oeuvre was sufficiently broad, which led many to argue that the Swedish Academy, custodians of the yearly Nobel Prize, not only had adequate time but also available body of work to have reached a favourable conclusion on Achebe. If this did not happen, could the reason have been that he simply did not measure up?
Achebe’s most recent laurels before the end, the 2007 Man Booker International Prize and 2010 Dorothy and Lillian Gish Prize, provided deep insights into his stature in the world of letters. It is interesting that on the judging panel of the International Prize was the South African female writer and 1991 Nobel laureate Nadine Gordimer who said Achebe was “the father of modern African literature” and that he was “integral” to world literature. Also of interest is the fact that there were 14 other finalists for the award, worth 60,000 British pounds, including the female British novelist Doris Lessing, who was awarded the Nobel Prize later that year. The biennial literary award, given to a living author of any nationality for a body of work published in English or generally available in English translation, rewards one author’s “continued creativity, development and overall contribution to fiction on the world stage.” The judges for the year compile their own lists of authors and submissions are not invited.
It is intriguing that Achebe was preferred for the International Prize ahead of Lessing who was picked for the Nobel Prize in the same year. It is uncertain whether Achebe was among the Nobel finalists that year, or any other year for that matter, because nominations are officially kept secret for 50 years. Achebe was the second recipient of the International Prize, began in 2005, and which in 2011 was given to the American novelist Phillip Roth. After Roth was announced as the recipient, Carmen Callil withdrew from the judging panel, saying “I don’t rate him as a writer at all; in 20 years’ time will anyone read him?”
Indeed, this divergence is significant because, on the issue of artistic longevity and reader appeal raised by the judge, Achebe continues to enjoy a wide readership more than 50 years after his first novel. In fact, the 50th anniversary of Things Fall Apart in 2008 was a global party. It is fascinating that one of the 2011 finalists, John le Carre, asked to be removed from consideration, saying that he does not compete for literary prizes. It is a matter for conjecture whether the award would still have gone to Roth, irrespective of le Carre’s withdrawal. However, it goes to show how even extra-literary situations can intervene in the award of literary prizes.
Although the $300,000 Dorothy and Lillian Gish Prize, which recognizes artists who have had an extraordinary impact in their field, is, unlike the International Prize, extra-literary in scope, its award to Achebe at a ceremony in New York, nevertheless, made a huge statement for his literary accomplishments.
Even though Achebe produced other worthy novels, they were overshadowed by Things Fall Apart, his1958 debut novel and pioneering work of African fiction, which reportedly sold over 10 million copies and was translated into some 45 languages in his lifetime. It is rated among the best written in English, and in the estimation of many, by itself, guarantees Achebe’s place in the pantheon of literary greats. Achebe’s then unprecedented plot of a pre-colonial African people, the Igbo, who lost their pristine condition to Westernization, catapulted him into the limelight, even before his other novels, No Longer at Ease (1960), Arrow of God (1964), A Man of the People (1966), and Anthills of the Savannah (1987).
It is remarkable that Achebe’s pre-eminence in the continent’s literary firmament, particularly because of Things Fall Apart, led to cases of mistaken identity where people mistook other prominent African writers for Achebe. Kenyan novelist Ngugi wa Thiongo said he had been a victim and, according to him, Nigerian playwright and 1986 Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka said the same too of himself.
By the time Soyinka received the Nobel Prize, the first African to do so, Achebe’s magnum opus was close to its 30th year, and his most recent novel was published 20 years back. Although Soyinka was reportedly a popular choice, many wondered about Achebe. Before his demise, three other African writers were recipients of the Nobel Prize, the Egyptian Naguib Mahfouz (1988), and South Africans Nadine Gordimer (1991) and J.M.Coetzee (2003).
Since age is no disqualification, it remained a theoretical possibility till he died that Achebe could be eventually picked for the award despite his advanced years. After all, Doris Lessing, the oldest recipient of the award, got it at 88. But the ways of the Nobel Prize are mysterious, probably more than any other major literary award. To be eligible for the 112-year-old Nobel Prize, now worth about $1.4 million, a candidate must be nominated by a stipulated qualified person. In its work in choosing a Nobel Prize winner the Swedish Academy is assisted by a Nobel Committee comprising four to five Academy members, elected for three-year periods. It often happens that the same names are put forward time after time, until the nominee either wins the prize or dies or the sponsors give up.
It is noteworthy that the Swedish Academy has long been controversial for its apparent Eurocentric bias as well as sometimes baffling decisions, and there is a thought-provoking list of widely acknowledged “great writers” who never won the Nobel Prize while supposedly lesser writers did. One recent instance involving 2004 Nobel laureate, the Austrian female novelist and playwright Elfriede Jelenik, provides food for thought. According to reports, Jelenik herself believed that she should not have received a Nobel Prize and that she had only been chosen for “being a woman.” A member of the Swedish Academy, Knut Ahnlud, shared Jelenik’s belief and resigned over her selection, claiming she had “done irreparable damage” to the prize.
From these happenings, it is evident that if Achebe went to the grave without the Nobel Prize, it is not necessarily a statement against the aesthetic intensity or artistic profundity of his fiction. The questions are: What standards of assessment determined his inappropriateness for the prize? Was his fiction deficient in form or content? Or was he unlucky for non-artistic reasons? One thing is certain, though, for a writer who produced fiction that belongs to the literary canon, Achebe’s exclusion from the Nobel Prize ironically provides enlightenment on how not to judge literature.
• Macaulay is on the editorial board of The Nation
