Raising a pint to Pinter

Well, I must say it's a relief to have a Nobel Prize winner in literature I actually like to read. Harold Pinter, described by the UK Telegraph as "our grandest and grouchiest playwright," is a writer that has the virtue not only of having been read by a fair number of people, but of being liked by at least some of them. From the Indian Express:

... Pinter is renowned for turning silence into an art form with brooding dramas packed with enigmatic characters who never said what they meant or meant what they said. The dramas exuded menace and were spiced with erotic fantasies and obsession, jealousy and hatred. Critics dubbed Pinter’s chilling masterpieces “the theatre of insecurity”.

While the BBC implies  (see "Pinter's Politics") that Pinter's (leftist) politics may have had a role in his selection, nevertheless the choice must be greeted with relief by those of us who love books that are actually capable of giving pleasure. It's a far cry from other recent choices for the prize. [Not that I rate myself as a notably well-read individual (the most well-read individual I know is Sanders of the River). The best that can be said of me at this point is that I'm reasonably Internet-literate, whatever that's worth.]