Don't know how you feel about the annual bestowal of the Pulitzer prizes, but if you work in newspapers, they're the equivalent of an Oscar and then some -- a recognition of true worth in an industry that doesn't like to pat itself on the back (or be caught patting itself on the back, which is a little different).
Boston Globe arts writer and occasional movie section editor Mark Feeney won a Pulitzer for criticism today. It's so deserved it almost came as a shock: his writing, generally on themes of photography and visual culture but branching out into all areas of the arts, is so erudite, so well thought out, so gently and allusively persuasive that you wonder if enough readers recognize how good it is.
Adding to the in-house satisfaction here is that Mark's a great guy -- a gentleman in the rare, active sense and the kind of person who looks for and promotes the best in the people around him. Having him for an editor is being asked to raise your professional game, but only in the interests of clarity and the well-turned phrase. (He does the occasional celebrity impression as well.) When the champagne popped today at 3 p.m., after the award news came over the wires, Mark uncorked a funny and heartfelt speech that, true to form, first praised colleague and Pulitzer finalist Beth Daley, then made what could have been a trite point -- I didn't win this thing, we all won this thing -- into the closest thing to a group hug that working journalists would dare get. It felt great.
No congrats necessary. Just read the man.
