“I have all my life been far from being an admirer,” wrote Thomas Bernhard in his novel
Old Masters: A Comedy. “Nothing repels me more than observing people in the act of admiration, people infected with some admiration.” As in art was it in life: the controversial satirical playwright, poet and novelist was never blinded by pomp or formality, even when it was directed toward him. In the posthumously published
My Prizes: An Accounting, Bernhard takes stock of his wins: he catalogues the prize-related scandals of his career, recounts the humiliations of ceremony, and gets in some serious insults. He has harsh words for pretty much every prize he won except for the Julius Campe Prize, which he liked, and used the entirety of its prize money to buy a luxury car, which he promptly crashed. It’s a funny, slouching portrait of an artist balancing public recognition with private integrity. On the 32