Category Archives: The Man Booker Prize

Man Booker Prize Short List 2017

Well, of all the oddball lists over the last few years this absolutely wins the prize. When you look at the full longlist which I have been banging on about over the last weeks, you have to wonder what happened?

Did the judges decide, in the end, not to consider ANY book that had already won a prize? If so, were there not many other worthy un-prize winning novels that qualified and could have taken up those spaces?

Having put in quite a number of quirky, stylistically challenging novels in the longlist, to then leave out Solar Bones, in favour of two debut novels, one of which was decidedly weak seems quite bizarre. Granted, it is marvellous when a first novel by a new author gets a chance, but when you put these two: Elmet by Fiona  Mozely and Emily Fridland’s History of Wolves up against previous debut novels – The Reluctant Fundamentalist (Moshin Hamid) and The God of Small Things (Arundhati Roy) to name two authors who are on this year’s shortlist, and The Commitments by Roddy Doyle, and several others, it seems to spell out the vast intellectual space between the two chosen, and other first novels chosen in previous years, which went on to win.

Like it or loathe it. No one is ever going to agree with all the judges choices, there will always be people like me, saying “why this and not that”. But looking at the coverage in today’s papers there does seem to be a pretty universal cry of “What just happened?” And equally a great deal of press about Elmet, (debut British novelist etc) the first chapter having been written on a mobile phone during rush hour…

My money, if I did place a bet which I do not, would be on George Saunders

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India – then and now

While I am still struggling with Infinite Jest, I am interspersing the agony with other reading.

This week it is India. I thought in honour of the year, I should re-read Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie. A Man Booker prize winner at the time and then a Man Booker of the decades with this novel, the prize winner of all prize winners. Worthy, deserved and hugely rewarding to read.

SalmanI think everyone knows that it is the life story of Saleem Sinai, born on the stroke of midnight at the moment India and Pakistan were divided. This was only Salman Rushdie’s second novel and what a towering success it became.

I think it is true to say that many people reading “Indian fiction” got their insights from Europeans writing about the British Raj.  There were, in the early twentieth century, very few India writers being published in Britain. So the sources were Paul Scott‘s The Raj Quartet, EM Forster The Passage to India, JG Farrell Troubles and The Siege of Krishnapur and similar, not forgetting Rudyard Kipling, of course.

Then a trickle began, Ruth Prawer Jhabvala with Heat and Dust, Salman Rushdie, Rohinton Mistry and others, but what was significant about these was that they all lived abroad. But they were a post-partition generation and wrote about India now. The trickle became a flood and then a cataract, and with Arundhati Roy we got a writer who lives and works in India. She too won the Man Booker prize for her novel The God of Small Things.

ArvindaSo we come to today, with both Indian and Pakistani writers publishing in Britain. Among them, Aravind Adiga, whose first novel The White Tiger also won the Man Booker Prize. The White Tiger was about young entrepreneurs making money in the new booming Indian economy. His latest novel, Selection Day is a similar story of rags to riches, but set in the world of International Cricket as played in India. Two brothers, brought up in the slums, are forcibly trained to be good with bat and ball by their cricket-obsessed father, successfully to start with, they are both marked for great triumph, but when a sponsor arrives things begin to change and a sudden realisation dawns on the younger of the two boys.

From rags to riches has a very unique connotation in a land like India, where there is no health care, no welfare state, no safety net. You only have to read Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine Boo to understand that. Aravind Adiga has touched the same nerve in his fiction. Katherine’s book was also turned into a play by David Hare and this is what I wrote having read the book and seen the play.

The book [Behind the Beautiful Forevers] was written as a result of Katherine Boo’s personal involvement in the slum dwellers who lived beyond the wall on which the “Beautiful Forever” tiles were advertised. The people living in this squatters’ slum were much more than cyphers, they had relationships well beyond what was portrayed in the play. They had back-stories, their current circumstances and the exigencies of living on the edge, at the mercy of police brutality and veniality; at the mercy of the weather and at the bottom of society – rag pickers, garbage sorters living on the detritus of a much wealthier and prosperous elite, living literally cheek-by-jowl with the evidence of wealth – smart hotels and smart cars and living right beside the most flagrant example of wealth: the airport. All this and more one felt at a visceral level when turning the pages of the book. Largely lost in the play. I doubt whether anyone in the audience who had not previously read the book could have come to anything like a real understanding of the degradation oddly coupled with the sense of personal pride that lived side by side in that slum

There are so many more that I haven’t named, but they are out there and waiting for you to pick them up.

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Man Booker 2017 – my shortlist

I have got a bit of a problem here because I have seven books on my shortlist! The judges will only have six.

Given that, here are my suggestions, in no particular order.

barrySebastian BarryDays Without End – this has already appeared on several lists and won. I enjoyed this novel and consider it among one of his best. I love the way he creates a narrative from character and situation, setting them both against a dramatic historical background and bringing it all vividly to life.

LincolnGeorge SaundersLincoln in the Bardo – this Gothic fantasy snatched from a snippet of historical information, shows a brilliant disregard for the “way in which a novel should be written”. The stylistically daring presentation of historical contemporary writing interspersed with invented dialogue, the setting and the intense rendering of a father’s grief make it both comical and tragic. A masterpiece of imaginative writing.

Exit WestMohsin HamidExit West – this novel must surely be on the shortlist. It is such intelligent prose, capturing some of the most pressing concerns of today. The exodus from a war-torn city; transit camps filled with refugees; perilous conditions. The magic realism may put readers off this book, but I consider that the newsprint and TV streaming amply covers those aspects of the refugee experience that are too horrific to contemplate. It is not that the author skates over the horrors, it is just that he does not expand on them.

Swing TimeZadie SmithSwing Time – I think I made it clear that I am not one of Zadie Smith’s readers, but I think this novel will appear on the shortlist because it does what a novel ought to do: draws you tightly into the narrative and keeps you turning and twisting in the story, so that you must read on.

Underground RailwayColson WhiteheadThe Underground Railroad – this is another prize winner already, so I think it will go on the shortlist, but it would have been on my list anyway. It is an unsparing look at what slavery meant, both to the owners and to the slaves. The pursuit of the “property” for its own sake regardless of the time past, but simply because it “belonged” to the owner was, and is, a matter of horrific fact. This novel presents it from the point of view of the runaway. The courage it must have taken is monumental.

4231Paul Auster4321 – a challenging book, 866 pages long, stylistically different and full of complex and mind-altering ideas. Identity, what is it? How does one individual become himself? The reader really has to concentrate, but it is worth it in the end. I would suggest two ways of reading this, either straight through or part by part. I did a bit of both, the cliff-hangers were sometimes too insupportable, and I could not wait to see what happened next, so I skipped to the follow-on. One man, four lives. But whatever you do, don’t read the last “life” through to the end first.

ElmetFiona MozleyElmet – I loved this brooding, English, visionary story. I really felt part of it, the sensations and the scents, the slow-burn of it touched me. It might not be the best book in the pile, but it really deserves the wider audience that a place on the shortlist would give it.

These are the most likely candidates, some are on the list because they have already garnered prizes and therefore have an accredited following, other are stylistically unique and then finally, there is likely to be one debut novel and Fiona Mozley has created a more coherent novel, though both of them were very good.

Reservoir 13So why isn’t Reservoir 13 in this list. Because while I loved it, and love the writing, I know this scatter-gun, unfocussed approach to narrative does not appeal to many readers. I happen to be a great fan of Jon McGregor.

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Man Booker Longlist 2017 – 12

It is very hard to know what to say about Elmet, the debut novel by UK author Fiona Mozley. It is a most remarkable beginning. Set at an undisclosed time, in a Yorkshire setting (Elmet was a Celtic Kingdom, largely spread over Yorkshire) a small family, father and two children make a hardy living in a house built for them by the father..Elmet

They are not travellers, though they have had contact with them; they are not exactly local, though the mother came from this area; they are not socially adept and now do not attend school; they live as much as possible off the land, trapping, foraging and making do.

In a very different way from the family in the other debut novel, Daniel and Cathy, his sister, are living outside society. John, the father has been a prize fighter, but not in the ring. This is illegal, bare-knuckle fighting where prize money comes from betting, and John is in a class apart, the strongest unbeaten fighter in England and Ireland. But during the period which is covered by this narrative, he has in fact given up fighting, though he often goes away leaving the two children to fend for themselves.

The book opens with the consequences of what happens at the end of the novel, and this only becomes apparent slowly. Sections in italics are in the first person narrative of the boy, Daniel. Why he is on his own does not get revealed until the end.

As Daniel travels, he fills in the bigger picture with a description of the events and personalities that led up to the end event.

There is a brooding threat hanging over the story, a supressed violence, which from the start seems to suggest that all is not going to end well. The graphic descriptions of the conditions that this family are living in are powerfully executed, and you really do get a sense of the social dislocation of this family.

On the whole, John is clearly a kind and well intentioned man, he helps out with things that people need doing, picks up odd jobs and has proved capable of building a sizeable and decent house for the family from next to nothing. But they are not safe, and their home life comes under threat from one principle quarter. John has a radical solution and calls in several like-minded people to start a community action which goes well to start with.

But it is in the nature of such things, there will come a backlash and once it comes things speedily change…

The writing is descriptive, moody and tight. There is neither a word too many, nor a word too few. In spare but lucid prose we are given a very clear picture of the situation and the denouement is shockingly violent.

This is very much the sort of book one would hope to find on the shortlist

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Man Booker Longlist 2017 – 11

“The story of Antigone re-written for the twenty-first century”, this is part of the blurb that accompanies the new novel by Kamila Shamsie. Anyone familiar with Antigone may wonder whether one single, notable and noble act replicated in the narrative of Home Fire, it quite sufficient to say that this is Antigone re-worked.

Antigone demonstrates a wilful disregard for the wishes of King Creon of Thebes in demanding a decent burial for her brother, Polynices, after both her brothers have been killed fighting about which of them should be on the Theban throne. Creon, who takes the throne after the death of these two, decrees that there should be no mourning for Polynices, or burial, on pain of death. Of Eteocles there is no mention!

KamilaKamila Shamsie‘s book has much more to it than this single demonstration of rebellion. The novel is divided into five parts, the first deals with the meeting between Isma, elder sister of the twins Anneka and Parvaiz, and Eamonn the only son of Karamat Lone, a British MP; the second part is Eamonn’s story and how he gets involved with Aneeka, or her with him; the third is the story of Parvaiz; the fourth is Aneeka’s story and the final part is Karamat’s take on the whole situation.

This is the experience of British Muslims living today in a Britain of jihadi terrorism, suspicion, rejection and distrust; it is also the life of a close-knit family who have endured terrible, frightening and fracturing experiences and it is also the story of the lies and misrepresentations that recruiters to The Caliphate use to persuade young people to join the jihad and go to Syria to fight or work or marry into The State and at the same time, it is also the story of how the police, the politicians and indeed the families try to prevent this happening.

In this novel, all these factors clash around the lives of these young people. Isma, Aneeka and Parvaiz have no parents, their father was being taken to Guantanamo from Bagram, but died suddenly before he was put on the plane; their mother diminished by this event keeled over dead while at work; Isma becomes de facto mother to the twins and they live with a neighbour in Preston Road, Wembley, Aunty Naseem.

At the beginning of the novel, Isma has won a scholarship to an American university and she is in the airport being interrogated.  Her passport, ticket and boarding pass taken, her bags searched and her plane taking off without her – but her visa and everything is in order.  So finally, having caused her to miss her plane, the authorities come back and breezily tell her that it all checks out and she is free to go – knowing all the time that the boarding pass which they return to her is useless. This may not be typical for every British Muslim from Pakistan leaving this country, but it does happen to a few (and worse).

It is, in many ways, the tone of the whole book: how white British people, especially those in authority, treat people who are different. Karamat Lone, also a Muslim as it happens, voices these positions in his capacity as an MP, sometimes saying that if “they” want to be British they must give up all their foreign practices and ideologies and worse yet, saying about the family that Eamonn has become involved with:

“I know their names. Where they come from. Who they were before they went. There’s only one Preston Road. It’s the last place in England I’d expect to find that kind of thing happening. But that one [Parvaiz], he had exceptional circumstances. Terrorism as family trade. Illustrative of how much you need to do to root out this kind of thing. I mean, literally, grab by the very roots and pull. Pull the children out of those environments before they’re old enough for the poison to seep in.”

Karamat’s intransigence leads inevitably onwards to the final denouement. His misplaced condemnation of his son’s character, his chronic misjudgement of Parvaiz and of his twin sister, Aneeka, and everything about who they really are leads back to his expressed belief in the roots of terrorism. Even when confronted with an alternative narrative, Karamat refuses to move to defuse an appalling situation.

This ought to be deeply moving, but somehow didn’t quite manage it. Shocking certainly, and in places disagreeable to read but it never engaged me emotionally. Which is not quite to say that it was not worth reading, but compared, say, to Jean Anouilh‘s Antigone or The Burial at Thebes by Seamus Heaney it does not hit the mark. I am not sure why.

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Man Booker Longlist 2017 – 10

And so on to weightier matters, literally. Paul Auster‘s door-stopping novel weighs in at 1200 grams and 886 pages, a mere bagatelle when compared with David Foster Wallace‘s Infinite Jest which is on my TBR for post Booker reading.

42314321 is the title of this massive book and is the story of Archie Ferguson, grandson of newly arrived Russian immigrant Ichabod Ferguson. Family legend having it that Isaac Reznikoff was told  that he would get on better with a more American sounding name, and that Rockefeller was a good name to choose, but on being asked his name, he said in his own tongue Ikh hob fargessen (I’ve forgotten).

I have gone into quite a lot of detail to demonstrate here the complexity of the characters and their relationships, so if this seems to be a spoiler to you, rather than an exposition, stop reading where the text colour changes. This novel is a work of philosophy, an exploration of nurture versus nature, of the ‘what ifs’ of life. Ferguson is a thoughtful, observant and rather lonely little boy, in the section where he learns to read he ponders on the accident that has caused his immobility, unwinding the actions and causes and giving some thought to the vagaries of cause and effect, at this point he is only six…

This is an unashamedly American novel, rooted in place and time, rooted in fact, very much, in Paul Auster’s own place and time. Various key world events lock us into when this is all taking place: the ending of the war in Europe, the execution of the Rosenbergs, the Korean War and other similar. Baseball features, teams that in Europe may have little meaning, take on importance, at some level and probably mirror actual games and players, I have no idea.

Like Michael Chabon and Howard Jacobson it is also decidedly Jewish, though not in an synagogue attending way, but in family gatherings, food and culture. Auster uses the novel form to address existential issues and questions of identity, space, language, and literature, creating his own distinctively postmodern (and critique of postmodernist) form in the process. Identity, Ferguson’s, being the key ingredient here.

It may take a while to read, but it is worth the effort. As with several other longlisted titles it is stylistically unusual, but do not let that put you off. Like going to France with a smattering of French in your memory, you get used to hearing it, and your ear becomes attuned – in this case you will find your “ear” and eye quickly pick up the familiar patterns.

There are constants in this book. Archie’s relationships with his parents, their parents and siblings remain the same, as does the date of his birth. On his father’s (Stanley Ferguson) side he has two uncles Lew (Louis) and Arnold (Aaron), whose wives are respectively Millie and Joan. Lew and Millie have two children, Andrew and Alice; Arnold and Joan have three, Jack, Francie and Ruth. His mother, Rose Adler has one sister Mildred, her parents Benjy and Emma live in New York. Ike and Fanny live in New Jersey and then there are inconstants!

But at this point is becomes complicated. In 1.1 Stanley, the youngest Ferguson is ambitious and driven, he starts with a leather goods store which eventually expands into the 3 Brothers Home Store, and sells everything from furniture to white goods. It would do better if the two elder brothers, layabouts both, were not constantly helping themselves to takings from the till; Lew is a gambler and has borrowed money off Stanley to cover mounting debts, however his gambling has become more serious, he then suddenly has a huge win, but far from repaying his brother, he buys mink for Millie and a Cadillac for himself and then throws a big champagne party, he eventually has a fatal crash in the Cadillac; the store is doing well until there is a huge warehouse burglary, which it eventually turns out is an inside job, and since he does not want to bring down his brother Arnold, Stanley endures the loss in silence, sending his brothers away; by 1.2 Stanley’s store has burnt to ashes, Ferguson is six and is learning to read, having broken his leg falling from tree; 1.3 fills in some of the more lurid details of the store fire. Archie’s cousin Andrew is killed in the Korean War, Lew goes off the rails and his debts become insurmountable, with his book-maker he conceives of an insurance scam that includes burning down the store, with fatal results and Lew ends up in prison; 1.4 finds Stanley with three prosperous stores, with two more due to be opened, he sees very little of his son Archie [who, by the way is known as Ferguson throughout]. Rose, his mother, is a professional studio photographer in all these sections, but in various guises. In 1.4 she spends quite a lot of time looking for a suitable studio/shop space which she eventually finds. 

The absolute inconstant is Ferguson’s aunt Mildred, in each section she is sometimes unmarried and does meet and marry, or remains a spinster. But each time she does marry it is to somebody completely different. And in different ways this affects Ferguson, especially the last husband, Donald Lomax a divorced man with a son, Noah.

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Man Booker Longlist 2017 – 9

I think that while authors like Mike McCormack are still writing it is safe to say that the novel is not dead. That said, Solar Bones, his latest title is quite some read.

Solar BonesFirst of all, the book has no dust jacket, and seen in a pile from the angle of the cut page, it could be mistaken for a prayer book, as the pages are gilded. Then on opening the book, the reader becomes quickly aware that there are no full-stops, not just on page one but throughout the whole book even to the end.

So with no stops and no chapters and virtually no breaks in the prose, except for spacings, what exactly is this? A train of thought or stream-of-consciousness? Is it spooling backwards even though we are reading it forwards?page

The big question though is what is the relationship between the situation we find on page one to the events we experience in the last seven and a half pages. Is there a caesura somewhere that brings us into the present, and if so where?

These questions are important, but not killing. This is an extraordinarily rich, complex and wide reaching river of words describing the marriage and family life of one, Marcus Conway, civil engineer and father to Agnes and Darragh, husband to Mairead; the thoughts and ramblings of this one man, Marcus from the ringing of the Angelus bell at midday on 2nd November, to the pips signalling the one o’clock news on 21st March. That is to say, the thoughts range over this man’s childhood, various national events and some personal ones that eventually converge in the sickness of Mairead who is a victim of a Clostridium poisoning which takes down over six hundred inhabitants, and probably more, in an un-named Irish city, when the water supply is contaminated with human waste.

Meanwhile, we come back again and again to this same kitchen table with Marcus sitting at it, thinking and feeling a slow, unidentified dread.

The novel is full of humour, Darragh is quite the joker although we only meet him on Skype as he is currently the other side of the world; Marcus himself is not without a sense of the absurd, but also a sense of his own worth, which comes out in one train of thought about some work he is meant to be signing off, and cannot because the work is sub-standard: his civil duty and a quiet life for the politicos involved being at odds with one another.

I have never come across a novel quite like this one. It is not, even by a stretch of imagination comparable to Ulysses, Leopold Bloom’s experiences cover a single day and 260,000 words but it is clever and challenging in exactly the same way, and leaves you thinking about it for hours after.

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