My Nobel Surprise

You know you must have finally become an Alaskan when the summer that you’ve enjoyed abroad eventually grows a little too balmy and predictable and you find yourself longing for a good old autumn williwaw.

Or at least a cool breeze.

That’s what made my brief journey from Central Europe to Stockholm so pleasant last week, smelling northern seas again, hearing the cry of seagulls and the sharp blast of a ship’s whistle. Like that first trip north to a long-ago Seattle, boarding the Malaspina bound for Haines.

Walking up a narrow, lamplit street in the early evening, I found my hostel and room beneath the old clock tower, stowed my pack — then stepped back out again to explore the harbor and find a place to eat.

Thinking about it now, I can see how it sounds a little counter-intuitive to travel from Italy to Scandinavia, only to order the Napoli pizza, but that evening I was in the mood for seafood, and the Napoli with anchovies was by far the most affordable option.

(I’ve tried hard not to be the American who comes as a guest to a foreign land and ends up whining about the prices, so I’ll try not to do that here — except to briefly say that in the current state of hyperinflation in Copenhagen, Stockholm and Oslo, a sit-down dinner usually starts at about $27 U.S., and that’s just the fish and chips.)

My pizza, however, was huge and delicious — just the right balance of vegetable and protein — and the Heineken made it perfect. So I decided to end the evening with a little window-shopping on my way back to the hostel.

I passed shop after shop filled with colorful toys and stylish clothes and that knack for classy design for which the Swedes are deservedly famous. Happily, though, I also found some class-free shops, including one with a sign that begins to express my personal bias for dogs over cats (see slide show below). And another with a t-shirt celebrating the first “Viking World Tour: 793 (A.D.) England, 795 Wales…” — glossing over what happened along the way.

I also passed the famous Swedish Academy with its adjoining Nobel Prize Museum. It was closed that evening, so I thought about visiting it the next day. And now I’m glad I did.

For one thing, did you know that some Nobel Prize winners actually have a sly sense of humor? Well, I didn’t. But here’s the evidence, gleaned from a book of quotes from Nobel Laureates I bought in the museum gift shop:

“History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it.”
— Winston Churchill, Nobel Prize for Literature, 1953

“In any case, let’s eat breakfast.”
— Isaac Bashevis Singer, Nobel Prize for Literature, 1978
(To his wife, on hearing he had won the Nobel Prize.)

“Christianity might be a good thing — if anyone ever tried it.”
— George Bernard Shaw, Nobel Prize for Literature, 1925

“Unless a reviewer has the courage to give you unqualified praise, I say ignore the bastard.”
— John Steinbeck, Nobel Prize for Literature, 1962

“The disputes are so bitter because the stakes are so small.”
— Henry Kissinger, Nobel Prize for Peace, 1973
(On university politics)

“At the Novosibersk Transit Prison in 1945 they greeted the prisoners with a roll call based on cases. ‘So and so! Article 51 and 58-1A, twenty five years.’ The chief of the convoy guard was curious. ‘What did you get it for?’ ‘For nothing at all.’ ‘You are lying. The sentence for nothing at all is ten years.'”
— Alexandr Solzhenitsyn, Nobel Prize for Literature, 1970

“If my theory of relativity is proven correct, Germany will claim me as a German and France will declare that I am a citizen of the world. Should my theory prove untrue, France will say that I am a German and Germany will declare that I am a Jew.”
— Albert Einstein, Nobel Prize for Physics, 1921

The museum proper just then was focusing on the 100-year-plus history of the Nobel Peace Prize — especially the growing need for it these days — and there was much there to both admire and regret.

Of course there is no small irony in the fact that Alfred Nobel himself — the Swede who made a fortune inventing, manufacturing and selling explosives — would posthumously dedicate that fortune to promoting peace with the world’s most prestigious prize, as well as honoring with medals (and million-dollar-cash awards) great strides forward in the sciences and humanities.

But I think the world should be glad he did. Just as I was glad to explore his museum that afternoon (my own Nobel prize) and read once again those inspiring words spoken by the American writer William Faulkner upon accepting the honor for literature in 1949:

“I decline to accept the end of man… I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet’s, the writer’s, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past.”

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