Representing Vook at the National Book Awards last night, I found myself sharing a table with Susan Minot, Calvin Trillin, Francine du Plexis Grey, Rachel Cobb, Morgan Entrekin and Elisabeth Schmitz.  If you enter those names into Google at once, the first result is the all caps phrase “EXCLAMATION POINT CLOSE QUOTE”—which about replicates how the experience felt, i.e. so thrilling it was constantly being shouted over the phone by my brain’s old-timey newsman.

We were one table from the stage — close enough I could pretend John Ashberry was speaking directly to me. When you’re listening to one of America’s greatest poets and Susan Minot is taking notes, you know Something. Is. Happening.

John Ashberry

The experience was lovely, the speeches moving, the room impressive. Walking to Cipriani’s, I passed Zucotti Park, where Occupy Wall Street was regrouping in the rain. Halfway through the ceremony, I realized that if you transported the protestors to the restaurant they’d probably agree — the magisterial environment fit the event, materialism doing its best to honor literature’s accomplishments of the spirit. Bankers and anarchists alike, I think, would recongize the values these awards revere.

I and Vook were proud to be a part of the occasion.