Denne uke hadde vi i klassen til oppgave å skrive ett avsnitt for hver dag. Her er min korte tanke fra en mandagsmorgen (på litt tung engelsk er jeg redd).
On the way to the train station this morning my ears was subject, as they always are, to the voices of NRK Alltid nyheter’s early morning figures. As my thoughts leapfrogged in the back of my head while I was listening, Sidsel Wold came creeping closer to my frontal cortex. At the time Sidsel Wold appeared on my retinae, Bjørn Vassnes was concurrently becoming nascent in the back of my head and the two met in a confluence as I compared Vassnes’ recollection of what cultural bastion of conveying high culture NRK was – even to that little kid who grew up in a deserted north of Norway, and later became a renowned and successful author in this very land, which he tells of in his new book on art in Norway (“Det store kunstranet”). In his case, this taste of a fine and higher culture offered an adolescent/ a child a glimpse of what virtue and satisfaction there may be in articulacy and cultivation. From the most deserted place on earth one had managed to set the door ajar to an international cultural inheritance of Western thought, with NRK as crowbar. The disparateness between Vassnes’ upbringing – the 50’s – and that of mine time is what strikes me. Sidsel Wold is the paragon of an anthropomorphism, of what I see as the belittling 68’er sense of ‘educating the people’ by the lowest common denominator; that is moralism and social pathos. I realize that I too must be obliged, that is; for the offense NRK has paid me. I remember the indignant feeling of being served such garbage presented in the most ‘intellectual’ way by NRK. I still feel that this is a factor of motivation in reading American magazines – e.g. American Interest – and English literature; as antidote you can say.