For a long while, there’d been a bubble of speculation about whether the Nobel Committee would come to their senses & just give it to her—to Joyce — but the bubble always burst. Each time it happened, sycophantic friends made the tiresome, toadying remark that JCO was the Nobel’s Susan Lucci, the same they said about Julian Barnes before he finally won the Booker. Common sense had forced Mrs. Oates to the unpleasant truth: Queen Toni’s investiture had knocked her out of the box for at least 30 years, because Oslo doesn’t do nationality-wins that close together, which means she’d be 85 when finally becoming eligible for consideration. The Committee was famously unpredictable but the line in front of her did seem rather long: there was Rushdie & Roth, not to mention the usual darkhorse bevy of unpronounceables writing in dead languages in civil war-torn stamp-sized countries too new or too old for anyone to have even heard of (anyone except for JCO).
. .
They were giving Michael Douglas the Take Heart Award tonight for his fundraising efforts, whose most recent focus was on children. “Mine are coming of age,” he told Entertainment Tonight. “So it feels like a natural progression. Some of these kids are going to be the same doctors, researchers and scientists who’ll find that missing piece we’re still looking for in so many of these diseases we’re struggling to understand.”
. .
At the Ooh Baby table: Biggie & Telma, Gwen & Phoebe, Aleisha & her parents, Biggie’s brother Brando, Wendy Mogel & budding author Bud Wiggins.
Wendy was married to Michael Tolkin. Bud was her date tonight because her husband had to fly to New Zealand for the weekend, where a $125 million film was being shot from his script. There’d been a few skirmishes between director & 
, serious enough that they almost came to blows. Tolkin & the lead actor had a good relationship so the studio asked him to intervene. Wendy wryly said that he agreed to do “emotional triage.” Tolkin & one of his agents flew over, plus 2 studio semi-chieftains, plus 3 of the film’s producers, plus the actor’s & director’s agents. They were all staying at the same lodge, which Tolkin had christened “Olympic Village.”
Wendy had written a number of bestsellers on healthy parenting. (Bud told her, “Where were you when my mother needed you!”) He knew Wendy all the way back to when she and Michael started dating. She was always kind to Bud, even when she knew he was down and out, something he never forgot. She looked Bud in the eye when he spoke, and generally treated him like a human being worthy of attention and respect.
. .
Michael Douglas saw the documentary about Fran Lebowitz that Toni was in. He thought it was hilarious. He particularly loved the part where Fran talked about what it was like to accompany Toni & her retinue to Oslo for the Nobel ceremony. Ms. Morrison knew that Michael and Catherine hosted the Nobel Peace Prize Concert in 2003, for the Iranian woman.
“Shirin Ebadi,” said Michael. “Brave lady. We had a great time with her. She’s Muslim. Yusuf Islam sang Peace Train.”
“Isn’t that Cat Stevens?” said Toni.
“Right. I don’t think the audience knew though.”
“Of course they did!” said Catherine.
“A lot of em didn’t. But I never argue with my wife.”
“The hell you don’t,” said the firebrand.
“Because I know it’ll end in blood. And it won’t be hers.”
She swatted him, as was her wont.
“We had a wonderful party in Oslo,” said the laureate. “Lou & Laurie — Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson — and Bono.”
“Bono is such a giver,” said Catherine.
“He sang ‘One,’” said Toni.
“That’s what I sang!” said Catherine.
“Not that ‘One.’ The U2 ‘One,’” he said.
“I know. I was just being silly.”
“Fran should have emceed,” said the actor to Toni. “I take it back — that might have been dangerous! She should have sung a little ditty with Lou.”
“Did you know that she’s a wonderful lyricist? Fran is one of the great unsungs — literally!”
“That’s funny.”
“That woman astonishes me with her gifts. In my mind, she’s right up there with Sondheim & Noël Coward. But inevitably, unmistakably. . Fran.” Her delivery was throaty and expansive, as was her laugh.
“Catherine sang ‘One’—from A Chorus Line—when we were over there hosting the Peace Concert. Remember how much fun you had, Cat?”
“Marvin Hamlisch wrote me new lyrics, so it made sense when I sung it to Shirin. But he didn’t really have to change too much. ‘She walks into a room & you know she’s uncommonly rare, very unique’—well that is Shirin. Marvin didn’t have to touch that.”
“… peripatetic, poetic & chic,” said Joyce, finishing the lyric.
“You know it!” said Catherine.
“I do,” she said. “I actually reviewed A Chorus Line for The Times Literary Supplement.”
. .
Telma got up from the table and ran off, dragging Biggie along.
Brando said to Bud, “Did you get an email from my little brother?”
“He sent it to me right after we met.”
“So what do you think? Did you read it?”
“I did. It’s an amazing story. It’s dark.”
“Tell me about it. Welcome to my nightmare!”
Bud said, “It made me think of Antigone.”
Of course it hadn’t; it was Biggie who referenced the play. Bud read the detailed synopsis in SparkNotes online.
“What’s Antigone?” asked Brando.
“A Greek play,” said Bud, with casual assurance. “About a king who refuses to bury the body of his son. Antigone’s the sister, who tries to get her brother a decent burial.”
“Jesus,” said Brando.
“Everyone in it dies, don’t they?” said Wendy, almost rhetorically. She was easygoing, comfortably chiming in without having to know a whole backstory. “Antigone’s brother dies, then Antigone dies… doesn’t she hang herself? I think even the king dies. And the king’s son, & the king’s wife———”
Bud thought it was classy that Wendy always downplayed the scope of her knowledge. She probably spoke Greek.
“Do you think there’s a movie there?” said Brando. The question was directed at Wendy as much as it was toward Bud. “Or maybe I should ask, do you think there’s a script.”
Before Bud could answer, Telma roared up to the table holding a tall, ostrich-looking man’s hand. Biggie was right behind her, panting. He plunked down beside his brother while Telma stood between Phoebe & Gwen.
“Mom! Look who I found! It’s Dr. Bessowichte!”