Don’t call Bob Dylan, he will call you. Or perhaps not

The times sure are a changin’ when the winner of a prestigious award decides to stay silent, writes Rob Long

Even after the Swedish Academy awarded him the Nobel Prize for Literature, Bob Dylan kept a dignified silence. Ki Price / Reuters

A year or so ago, I was working on a project for a cable television network. The project was what we in the entertainment industry call “troubled”, because for many reasons – some of them, I have to confess, were my fault – the creative direction of the tele­vision series and the process of writing and developing more scripts were unclear.

The paragraph above is composed almost entirely with euphemisms and niceties. The project weren’t “troubled” so much as doomed. And the “creative direction” and “process of writing and developing more scripts” wasn’t unclear – it was clearly headed to the dustbin. I wanted to take the series in a certain direction; the network wanted something slightly different; the star wanted something greatly different (ie, more of him and less of every other character); and one of the other producers insisted on being the go-between among all of the parties, which guaranteed that no one ever knew what anyone else was thinking.

So I did the last thing anyone really wants to do in Hollywood, and that’s to take action. I called the network executive directly to ask her what, exactly, she was thinking and to tell her what, exactly, I was thinking in the frankest way that minimally-acceptable politeness standards would allow.

She never called me back, which for a good 24-hour period convinced me that I was about to be given the sack. Unfortunately for me, it was she who was given the sack – her boss blamed her for the confusing factionalism of the production, rather than the true culprit who was the rogue producer – and I was left to struggle with a meddling know-nothing producer and a clinically insane star for the next several months, until the enthusiasm (and the money) for the project dwindled away.

Show business, as a wise Woody Allen tells us, is not a dog-eat-dog business. It’s worse. It’s a “dog-doesn’t-return-other-dog’s-phone-calls business”. The best way to show contempt for your underlings or a haughty disdain for your colleagues is to let their phone calls go unreturned. Silence, as we all know, is the most effective and cutting way to raise your voice.

And sometimes, not returning a phone call is a deeply moral and heroic act.

For instance, when the Swedish Academy decided last week to award the Nobel Prize for Literature to folk singer and cultural icon Bob Dylan, a lot of us scratched our heads. It was a bold choice, to be sure. "Literature", up until that point, had seemed to adhere to a more narrow definition of written work. Past winners have included poets and novelists – most of whom, it must be said, were more highbrow than popular – but Dylan is known for his plaintive and politically progressive lyrics and his nasal-heavy and barely intelligible singing voice, not his published written work. There was some sniffing from the high culture mandarins and some absurdly over-the-top cheering from the ancient hippies who still warble out The Times They Are a-Changin, but for most of us there was a quizzical, baffled reaction.

So in 30 years, I asked myself, will they be giving the award to Beyoncé? Or Britney Spears? Or – and this thought really chilled me – Kanye West? (Kanye West would probably be the one person on Earth who truly wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Kanye West had won the Nobel Prize for Literature.)

All of those misgivings melted away, though, when I learnt that throughout the entire process – from the moment that the Swedish Academy decided to honour Bob Dylan, to the public announcement of the award, and up to the moment that I write these words – Bob Dylan has remained silent and utterly unreachable.

He hasn’t returned the phone calls or emails from the academy, either before or after the award was handed out. He hasn’t spoken publicly, either to deliver tearful thanks or any reaction at all. The academy members called him – they apparently are well-connected enough to have finagled his mobile number – but he has yet to return their phone call. They’ve left voicemail messages and emails and have tried to get to him through various channels to zero effect. Dylan, it seems, just has nothing to say.

There is something heroic and – yes, I’ll say it – deeply moral about Dylan’s refusal to participate. He’s not taking this moment of attention to remind everyone about Darfur or climate change or the plight of the female scientist. Not that those aren’t important issues – I mean, sure they are – but Dylan is clearly indicating that if you want to know what he thinks, listen to what he sings. Those words – not the ones that come with a fancy acceptance speech delivered in a white-tie-and-tails ceremony – are the only ones he’s going to offer. In a world in which everyone seems to be talking at once, and where no one ever misses the opportunity to climb up on a soapbox and make a speech, Bob Dylan has delivered a powerful lesson: it’s a good thing to know when to shut up.

And there’s also the delicious sting of show business upmanship. The Swedish Academy called and Bob Dylan, superstar folk singer and world famous celebrity, just didn’t call them back. This is the ultimate power move. After all, Bob Dylan has sold more than 100 million albums. How many has the Swedish Academy sold?

Rob Long is a writer and producer in Los Angeles

On Twitter: @rcbl