A main objection has been that, however much a judging panel knew who their eventual winner was going to be, it was mean to deprive those who would have been on the shortlist their hour in the sun and the increased sales (and, I would add, reputation) which would have followed. People have noted that it seems especially perverse when the Frank O'Connor Award was specifically set up to draw attention to the short story collections published yearly (and which usually get scant attention), and in the service of this aim its long list is generous (39 books this year). Some, including a previous Frank O'Connor judge, have commented that to decide on a winner so soon is arrogant and that the purpose of a short list is to allow judges time for reflection and reconsideration via closer reading and rereading, and a Guardian blogs commenter points out that innovative or subtle short stories are more likely to rise to the surface at such a stage (the general consensus seeming to be that Lahiri's stories, while excellent, conform to conventional expectations). (I haven't read them myself.) Some have seen the choice as pandering to extraneous authority, since Jhumpa Lahiri's book, her second collection, is already an American bestseller and she won a Pultizer for her first, especially in view of the fact that member of this year's judging panel Eileen Battersby complained after last year's off-the-wall choice of Miranda July that the prize was not doing enough to acknowledge internationally acclaimed writers of short stories.
Actually, I think the meanest bit is this section of their statement:
"Not only were the jury unanimous in their choice of Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth as the winner, they were unanimous in their belief that so outstanding was Lahiri's achievement in this book that no other title was a serious contender."So the rest were crap, eh?
Regular readers of this blog will know of my reservations about literary competitions per se (or any ruddy competitions for that matter). And you know what, these judges have only gone and put into words what I keep saying is the unspoken implication of all competitions. It's great for the winners, but for those who don't win there's that other judgement: Less good.
But you know what, too? OK, so four or so people were deprived of being on the short list. But guess what, 34 others of us were saved having been labelled not good enough for the short list and, more to the point, being dropped immediately from the collective literary consciousness. Quite the contrary: look how it's all still being discussed.
6 comments:
Even if Lahiri's book was miles better than even the best of the rest (which seems unlikely) it certainly WAS "mean to deprive those who would have been on the shortlist their hour in the sun and the increased sales."
These long and then shortlists exist to help readers navigate their way through the bewildering number of books out there to the next best book for them. I would've thought it was part of the judges remit not only to name a winner but to indicate what else out there this year is decent too -- they've only done half a job by simply naming a winner.
I agree absolutely, Mark. I'd also say that a shortlist is an indication that there are various ways of achieving excellence. It's almost always my experience to find that I prefer a shortlisted non-winner to the actual winner, whatever the prize. On the strength of Lahiri's first book, which is finely written but, well, a little dull (one reader's opinion), I would have said that any serious jury should also have suggested we read something a little less conservative in terms of technique, a little more fun, or shocking, or off-the-wall, or angry. Shortlists are where this can - and should - be done.
And, while we're on the subject, I still think the Willesden decision to give no one the prize last year was mistaken. Who do these judges think they are?
well, I am going to be marketing my book as 'The Book That Was Loathed By The..... (Insert name of broadsheet. Also, The One No One Turned Up For At Borders. Also now Not Good Enough at FOC.
But the best so far, the writer who was refused even a reply email by the Small Wonder Festival organisers... last year, one of them looked me up and down when I went to beg for a platform for Salt Publishing. She sniffed (I HAD had a shower) and said, 'And why do you think people would buy tickets to see YOU?' !!
thankfully, there are ups as well as downs!
But as a comp judge... I can't agree that there has to be a prize awarded. It's not a running race. A prize has to be earned, not just be the best of a relatively weak bunch.
I'm reading for Willesden this year. It will be fascinating to see what standard comes my way.
Yes, I suppose the difference is that in single-story competitions the stories entered haven't been published, and so there's no guarantee that any will be of publishable or winning standard.
My experience is that the longlist for any prize is a not-bad Cook's Tour of what's good about that form and genre at the moment (though we could all argue about the details). As it narrows down to shortlist and then finalists (yes, some do) and then winner, it becomes more and more subjective. Fair enough, in a way. Get any four people together in a room and they'll disagree about the best book this year: why should a prize be any different? Picking the winner of six books is not the same as picking the winner of a race: it's the book that that panel, on that day, within that deadline, can agree should be the winner, which is by a long chalk necessarily the same thing as the best book.
But one of the functions of many such prizes - most particularly any wielding Arts Council and other philanthropic money - isn't to make authors happy or miserable, but to raise the profile of the form, the genre, the industry, to bag some media time and to give small publishers and unknown authors a chance to overcome the handicaps imposed on them by book trade economics. Jumping the gun by announcing a winner is not only unkind to the shortlistees (which you may or may not think isn't the judges' problem) but also short-circuits all those other reasons.
And I, too, have mixed feelings about prizes. My first published work was in a prize anthology, and it's done me no harm to have been in the running for four with my first novel, but I'll never forget a story my local, brilliant indie bookseller told me. Two women browsing for their next bookgroup book. Bookseller offers them one of her most sure-fire bookgroup hits. 'How about this?' The women study cover, blurb, author, dip into a page or two. Eventually they toss it back. 'No. It hasn't won any prizes.'
In which case most of us are doomed, I guess.
Oh my god, Emma (re your last point) - it's worse than I suspected!
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