Her á Listaportalinum verður javnan reypað um velduga innsatsin frá okkara listafólkum bæði heima og úti, so tað er ikki tí okkum vantar sjálvsálit teirra vegna. Allíkavæl má eg viðganga, at tað er nakað heilt serligt at lesa ta sera positivu lýsingina av Teiti í nýggju bókini hjá heimskenda høvundinum, Salman Rushdie, ið kanska er mest kendur fyri bókina The Satanic Verses. Tann bókin útloysti eina sonevnda fatwa við einum deyðadómi, sum høvundurin hevur havt hangandi yvir sær í nógv ár. Men harumframt er Rushdie háttvirdur høvundur, sum hevur fingið nógvar virðislønir fyri sínar bókmentir.
The Golden House eitur tann nýggja skaldsøgan hjá Salman Rushdie, ið sambært ummælum er sera áhugaverd, og gongur fyri seg í nútíðini í einum samfelagi, sum minnir ikki lítið um tað amerikanska samfelagið av í dag, m.a. við einum rættiliga problematiskum forseta, ið ikki er ólíkur Donald Trump. Brotið, ið snýr seg um Teit, sipar til hansara TED fyrilestur og til konsertina, sum hann og Nico Muhly høvdu í New York í vár:
“He was skulking about outside the Red Fish, the music place on Bleecker, inside which a Faroese singer was scheduled to perform a suite of confessional songs inspired by YouTube videos—in English, not Faroese, luckily for the audience. What was Kinski’s interest in any of this, YouTube, the Faroe Islands, music? But there he was, skulking. Hey, anybody got a spare ticket, a ticket you don’t need and could maybe donate to a good cause? Him being the good cause he had in mind. I was there because the Faroese singer’s American collaborator was a friend, and Kinski, seeing a familiar face, lit up and became high energy.
“You can do this for me,” he said. “Never mind everything else. This is important. This guy. Poetry & Aeroplanes, ever heard that? Beautiful. Did you know he recorded an album in the house where Ingmar Bergman died? Did you hear his TED talk? Whoa.” These were the most articulate words (except perhaps for his Shakespeare quote at tea in the Golden house) and the only non-apocalyptic thoughts I’d ever heard coming out of his mouth. “And you know all this, how?” I asked. His face darkened and, to keep it company, his vocabulary deteriorated. “Fuck off,” he said. “Never mind how.” I was curious now and, as it happened, I did have an extra ticket in my pocket, because Suchitra, of course, was working late. “If you want to get in,” I said, “I need the story.” He looked down at the sidewalk and shuffled his feet. “My buddy turned me on to him,” he muttered. “Bagram Air Base. Back in the day.” “You’re a vet,” I said, genuinely surprised. “You want proof?” he snarled. “Give me a blindfold and a disassembled AR-15. I’ll give you fucking proof.” This was when, if I’d had my warning radar switched on, I should have understood that all was not well, that this was a man near an edge. But I was guilty about my ignorance of his service, and then compounded my mistake by asking him a question about his “buddy,” and getting the response I should have known I’d get. “Didn’t make it. Ambush in Pakhtunkhwa. Now can I get the fucking ticket.”
I watched him during the concert. The songs were witty, even funny, but there were tears pouring down his face...”.
Týskvøldið er Teitur millum tey, ið framføra á konsertini Sálmar í nýggjum hami í Norðurlandahúsinum.
