Booker...? Bollocks!
Once again the circus known as the Booker Prize emerges in autumn to provide a welcome boost in sales for otherwise unreadable and unpopular fiction in the English (as opposed to American) speaking world. That the Booker has a sales effect belied by the relatively parsimonious prize money, and thus a commercial importance, is not in doubt; rather, one wonders if it does continue to "reward the best novel of the year", as they proudly proclaim.
Perhaps all this cynicism isn't warranted, but even a brief glance at this year's nominees should serve as ample warning against any idealism about the workings of the prize. The six nominees show a terribly uneven quality, as has been recent experience, ranging from the anaemic to theastounding. It would be interesting to see if the one deserving book (I'm not telling) of the lot does indeed take the Prize, as happened last year when J.M. Coetzee's Disgrace came out tops.
It is plainly a contest of unequals, of the well-known vs. the unknown, where the small-fry have almost no chance of pulling off an upset. Already the betting odds reflect not only general public sentiment but also informed opinion that the token female in the shortlist might yet prove to be the safest and least controversial choice.
Thus, Atwood is the bookies' favourite this year, with her newly released and much anticipated The Blind Assassin. Brian O'Doherty, with even less big name cachet than Cardiff-born Norwich resident (how's that for street cred?) Trezza Azzopardi, props up their lists as token dark horse. Matthew Kneale has been similarly left behind in the betting stakes, after the other two big names.
Both Ishiguro and Collins continue to turn in strong work, and they are in with a shout with their very readable books. Strange, though, how all the books seem so localised, so focused and narrow, as if that were the only way to win a Booker.
That points to a worrying trend towards greater insularity, not just in the writing but also the judging. Despite the controversy that the shortlist (and the winner) still manages to create every year, the choices are perhaps overly conservative and timid. No longer are marginal and more challenging novels regularly appearing in the shortlist.
The Booker Prize, due to its commercial clout, has become ever more the creature of the large publishing houses, much as any other contest becomes tainted by money. The writers jockey to be put forward, the publishers jockey for extra space and positions, and the Booker jockeys for extra publicity in an endless spiral of greed.
Beyond that, some disagree with the notion of such a prize in the first place, since it presumes a comparability across novels that many say does not exist. It is easy enough to separate the wheat from the chaff, but the process becomes increasingly difficult towards the top, and perhaps it's impossible to actually pick just one winner out of any given crop of books.
And that is perhaps the undeniable character of any such contest. Despite the great show of impartiality and thoroughness that the Booker judges like to display ("we read every book"), it is ultimately no better than Russian roulette. Prepare to be disappointed - I am.
12th Oct 2000