This Year’s Booker Rumpus: Just As Ridiculous As Every Other Year’s Booker Rumpus

The annual tiff about the Man Booker Prize is a reassuringly perennial feature of the British autumn. It is also almost always ridiculous. This year, apparently, the prize has been “dumbed down” as the judges (including the Spectator’s Susan Hill) neglected a number of fashionable names in favour of a shortlist that, Julian Barnes excepted, features relatively little-known authors. Worst of all, it seems, the judges are said to have treated “readability” as an important factor when considering their favourites. Crivvens!

This, it is further alleged, is part of longer-term trend favouring “accessible” novels above those of so-called genuine literary merit. Some familiar – even trendy – authors now say they want to establish a rival to the Booker that will reward “real” (that is to say, little read) novels of the kind readers are supposed to pretend to enjoy (for this marks them as sophisticated types, you see) but rarely actually finish.