Hello Gentle Reader
There has been a lot of criticism as of late, with the Booker Prize. The first wave of criticism came back in two-thousand and eleven, where the award focused more on readability and accessibility rather than, focusing on the merits of the works on a literary level, or opening the doors of the novel to newer frontiers. The award that year went to Julian Bars for his novel “The Sense of an Ending.” In two-thousand and twelve, as expected the Novel went to Hilary Mantel (for a second time) with “Bring Up the Bodies.” Two-Thousand and thirteen went without a hitch – at least in the beginning. The shortlist of last year’s award, as praised for being one of the most exciting in many years. The winner was Eleanor Catton from New Zealand. She is now the youngest author to win the award, at the age of twenty-eight, and her novel “The Luminaries,” is the longest novel to have won, at a staggering count of eight hundred and thirty two pages long. Yet the award was overshadowed by the news that the next Booker Prize would be opening its door to the inclusion of authors from America. Criticism ensured, by critics and authors alike – myself included; though I am neither. Yet once again, the Booker Prize finds itself still on the brink of questionable relevancy. The organization itself had hoped that by inviting and including American authors, the prize would get a jumpstart to an already flat line heart rate. Unfortunately this attempt at defibrillation failed. The prizes position remains teetering on the edge of becoming obsolete in its own irrelevancy.
The inclusion of American writers did not inject a needed boost of adrenaline; nor has it sunk the prize. It merely just shows how vernacular the Booker Prize and its foundation; has become. It panhandles to the already known. The award goes to authors like Hilary Mantel, JM Coetzee, and Peter Carey in duplicates. How many times has Margaret Atwood both been longlisted and shortlisted? Howard Jacobson this year alone finds himself once again shortlisted for the award. Has the English language fallen into such disarray and quiescence torpor, that it has descended into nothing more than just the usual suspects over and over again, nominated, shortlisted and eventually winning? It is not the invitation of the American cousins that has destroyed the award – though their admittance should be revoked.
What is needed is the foundation, the judges and the jury to quite retracing old ground. The usual well established literary authors, continue to be shortlisted or longlisted, and better yet winning the award. Where are the days where authors were awarded the prize, based on their merits? Though I have not read Eleanor Catton novel – nor do I plan to at the moment; research and reading reviews; have showcased that Catton is that kind of author who the Booker should take note of: young, talented, and unknown, and should be given more consideration over such authors like Mantel and Coetzee or Carey. New blood is needed – not from other countries; rather from inside the commonwealth itself. Authors need to be considered not based on their name, or their book cover; but rather what the book itself entails. The Booker needs to go back to its roots, and award the novel on the author’s voice and singular vision portrayed within the novel. The days of looking at the shortlist like two-thousand and twelve, should stop – where one sees a usual suspect, and predicts with neither, enthusiasm and glee that the old author will win a second time; and that is just what had happened.
New blood is needed. If it is not a question of new blood, new writers, and the books being published in the English language; than the Booker Prize is a testament to the lack of originality that is being produced with the English language.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
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