A certain literary prize announced earlier this week received a lot of flak because the shortlist was deemed too readable. I want to know what books they were reading. The Barnes was as cold as a washed up kipper; the Kelman featured a pigeon as a narrator and most of the praise heaped on deWitt said it would make a good Coen brothers film. I’d rather just wait for the film.
Speaking of which, the film adaptation of We Need to Talk About Kevin is belatedly out today; its original release date delayed after events in Norway. The 2005 Orange Prize winner is perfect example of a page-turner by a mediocre writer which thoroughly deserved said gong. And that’s not intended as a back-handed compliment. It may have had the subtlety of an AK47 let off at nap time when it came to the nature/nurture chestnut, and it may have been custom made for discussion on Woman’s Hour, but at least it did what it said on the tin: it got everyone talking.
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