How Does It Feel Part 6: Judging A Literary Prize

I have to admit to being a bit tired of literary awards: sometimes it feels as though there’s no end to them. If it’s not the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize then it’s the Folio, the Hugos or the Desmond Elliot. There are a few I always look out for: the Costa generally has a strong list (and I was delighted by Nathan Filer’s 2013 win) and it’s exciting to see whether any small presses make it onto the Booker shortlist. I enjoy the institutionalised sleaze and bitchiness of The Guardian’s Not The Booker prize, and the Green Carnation normally alerts me to some exciting new reads. It’s just hard to get excited when there seems to be another longlist announced every month.

One thing I’ve always been interested in, though, is the judges’ experience of book prizes. What separates a great read from a prize winner? Is the judging process collegiate and congenial, or is it more like 12 Angry Men? And how true is the Private Eye stereotype of back-slapping judges awarding prizes to their mates? To find out a bit more, I spoke to three people who have been involved in judging literary prizes: Rachael Beale (Costa Awards, 2013), Sam Jordison (Not The Booker Prize) and Green Carnation Prize founder Simon Savidge.

First of all, what makes people want to set up their own literary prize? The Green Carnation Prize came about as a result of the author Paul Magrs’ frustration at the lack of representation for gay writers in the mainstream. Simon Savidge explains: ‘when the Booker list came out in 2010, he vented about the lack of gay men winning prizes or outlets for them to. I chipped in and somehow the prize was born and five years down the line it goes on.’ The idea may have come from an author letting off steam, but getting established was more of a challenge: ‘publicity is hard if you don’t have a company and you have no money, in fact funding is a nightmare. I had to think outside the box and so emailed Foyles, cheekily, saying that we were meant to work together and were a perfect fit; amazingly they all agreed and so we run in association with them which has made a huge difference. I think just being taken seriously as a contender and not just a flash in the pan too is all part of it.’

Over time, the prize’s remit has expanded to include the wider LGBT community, and also books in translation. Savidge says that the changes ‘just happened naturally. Initially in the first year, as I mentioned, it was slightly reactionary. Then when we had time to think about it, and had decided to go for  another year, it seemed really exclusive (and too niche) not to include them’.

If Green Carnation is a celebration, then the Guardian’s Not The Booker Prize has a more subversive brief. Looking back at the prize’s early years, Sam Jordison says ‘We hoped it would be lots of things. Importantly, we wanted it to be fun - a good bit of entertainment for everyone involved. We wanted to uncover great books that weren't getting attention elsewhere. We wanted to give Guardian readers a stake in the decision making process and feel that they were a big important part of what happens on the site. We also wanted to lay bare the workings of literary prizes, warts and all. The idea was to be as open as possible, so that all machinations, decisions, lobbying, considerations, discussions and everything else were up there for all to see. This last bit has been particularly fascinating! We also wanted it to be a flexible experiment - a prize that would change its nature as circumstances and those taking part dictate...’

So, once the prize is set up, how much work is there for the judges to do? Does judging take over your life? Speaking about her time on the Costa Prize panel, Rachael Beale tells us ‘books start coming through in June, with a deadline for compiling the (unofficial) longlist in early October - so about 4 months. It didn't take over my life so much as change its tenor. The volume of reading involved was fairly commensurate with what I get through on a regular basis anyway. It just meant that I read hardly anything that was COMPLETELY my own choice (although I did manage to squeeze in the odd title - I wasn't going to miss The Luminaries or Love, Nina for *anything*), and I basically gave up my ritual read of the Saturday Guardian. I didn't stop buying it - I've got a blurry picture somewhere of what 4 months of unread Saturday Guardians looks like...’

Guardian readers are encouraged to vote for the Not The Booker Prize shortlist, saving Sam Jordison some valuable time and also allowing him to shine a light on the machinations which go on behind the scenes: eagle-eyed readers can spot publishers nominating their own authors, and friends putting each other forward. The byzantine nomination rules only add to the chaos. This is all part of the appeal, of course: ‘The favours for mates thing is all part of the process - and a big part of our mission to open up the processes behind literary prizes and show the kind of pressures that can land books on shortlists... But I do worry that we don't always get the best books as a result. That said, we've taken quite a few steps to mitigate against the ‘publishers pushing their friends’ phenomenon. It's notable that The Goldfinch landed on the list this year for instance. It's also notable that it wasn't the best book on the list...’

I the past two years, readers who have contributed to the debates in the comments section have been invited to join Not The Booker’s judging panel, lending the prize an even more democratic feel but also providing ‘superb insight’, according to Jordison: ‘they spoke brilliantly about the books and their opinions were tremendously valuable. Since we had our discussion filmed and streamed it also enhanced our mission of openness. And it again gave the readers a real stake in the prize. Plus, it was fun! I enjoyed talking to them. We're doing it again this year.’

Rachael Beale speaks similarly highly of her fellow Costa judges: “To my enormous relief, we had a very amicable relationship - I was dreading a real "I LOVE this"/"But I HATE it" tussle. It helped that at least one of our panel had a lot of judging experience, and a good sense of when to compromise. I'm rather more stubborn about what I do and don't like, and I think would have found it very hard either to give up on the books I felt were best, or to let through anything I thought was weak. That's not to say there wasn't argument and debate; it's more that there was a sense of all the panel approaching it with the same criteria, standards and idea of outcome, so there was room to argue without it becoming too tense. Compiling the shortlist took the most time and "discussion". Selecting the winner from the shortlist we found fairly easy.”

But what does make a good winner? Costa judges are helped by the prize’s remit for readability: ‘The Costa judging guidelines are fairly clear, and relatively detailed. The central thread, though, could broadly be summarised as "a really good read". So while we weren't looking for something that offered shimmeringly beautiful prose without much in the way of plot, at the other end of the spectrum, we were definitely looking to rule out plotty page-turners with merely "workmanlike" sentences.

Personally, I was looking for a really strong narrative voice; characters that felt three-dimensional; at least a decent smattering of sentences I wanted to scribble down and keep because they captured something that felt 'true'; a minimum of plot holes; well thought-through, appropriate-to-the-story pacing; absolute maximum of one "oh, come ON" moment (preferably none, but if it ticked all the other boxes, I was prepared to let one of those pass. Only one, though).

One thing that was very noticeable about our shortlist was that for nearly all of the authors, while it was a first novel, it wasn't a first book - they'd published, for example, memoir and poetry beforehand. The sense of having an experienced grasp of structure and form was very strong.’

Although Simon Savidge is no longer a judge on the Green Carnation Prize, he gives a similar response: ‘like every prize, the judges are looking for a book that is blooming brilliant and that is all you can do. The same applies to the shortlist and long lists, in the last two years I think these have been particularly corking, I have to say, and I think that is all you can hope for in a great year.’ For Jordison, a great Not The Booker year involves ‘discovering a really good book by an author I didn't know before. Not getting threatened. But a nice bit of controversy and passionate discussion...’

Ah, yes, the controversy. Very few prizes manage to escape without at least some level of criticism from social media or the press. Much of this criticism is valid, concerning under-representation of female authors or people of colour (on shortlists and judging panels alike), or industry back-scratching. In other instances, it is a matter of taste: some prizes are considered to be overly safe or commercial (as in Stella Rimmington’s Booker Prize year), or even suffering from left wing bias (this year’s Hugo Awards).

Sam Jordison knows this better than most, having received hostile responses from readers and publishers and even been threatened by an author in the past, an experience he describes as ‘unsettling’; ‘but to defend them all the prize does shine quite a bright light right into their eyes, and I can understand why some people go funny under the glare. Putting a book out is also an all-consuming endeavour. Of course people get emotional about what happens to it’.

Mainstream judges are more protected from these reactions, but they are still sometimes the target of negativity, Beale says: ‘not from the "public" as such (or at least, not that I was aware of...). Industry press & contacts, a bit - mostly relating to not liking the wording chosen for the press quote! Particularly around the shortlist, a couple of expressions of surprise at things that were left out, but nothing like as many as I'd expected.’

I imagined that judges would have one eye on posterity when making their choices, but Beale downplays this aspect, explaining that she didn’t think about the future ‘as much as I think I might have done if I'd been judging something like the Booker. One of the things about "good reads" is they might *not* stand the test of time, because they can be very peculiar to a particular space and time - they can capture skilfully a particular moment that it then becomes hard for later readers to relate to. When you're looking at debuts as well, there's a sense in which this may be the start of a career with even better books to come. And I think with any book prize, you're looking at an artificially-constrained annual period. I think there are ebbs and flows in the industry, and some years will be undoubtedly more bounteous than others.’

All three of the judges I spoke to described the experience fondly. For Savidge, highlights have included the announcement of the winner at the 2014 ceremony at Foyle’s: ‘it was wonderful to have so many people there supporting the prize and also really felt like we meant business and that the last five years convincing people that we need a prize like this has all been worth it. Other than that it was probably when I read Catherine Hall’s The Proof of Love, which won in the prize’s second year – it is very rare, and I say that as someone who judged it for three years, that a book just grabs you and you know it is the one.’

For Jordison, aside from being threatened by authors, ‘there was a hilarious moment when a concerted effort from a Leeds Utd football fan forum helped get a book onto our shortlist. There was some crazy controversy surrounding our first winner (Solo by Rana Dasgupta) and dozens of votes coming in within seconds of each other. There have been some memorably wonderful books on the list like Simon Crump's Neverland, Lars Iyer's Spurious, Benjamin Myers' Pig Iron. There have also been some horrors and shockers and abominations. Those are fun too. Oh and there was the time an author dropped out.’

Finally, how do the three judges feel about the literary prize scene as it stands? Unsurprisingly, all three have positive things to say. Rachel Beale argues ‘I don't think there can ever be too many prizes. Writers always need the cash!’ She is aware, though, that the prizes don’t always have a huge impact on the mainstream: ‘My sense is that the 'general' public only ever really hear about the Costa, the Booker and the Baileys. Industry people might be all over the Goldsmiths and the Folio, and any number of other, smaller prizes, but I don't think they really break the surface of mainstream media. So, perhaps there are too many for the reading public to get a handle on, sure, and for the prizes themselves to effectively promote their shortlists and winners in the marketplace. But the more the merrier, really’.

Thanks to his involvement with Galley Beggar, Sam Jordison is well aware of the positive benefits of prizes for small presses who can get their novels onto the shortlists: ‘I think prizes are tremendously valuable. None are perfect - but all are fantastic at raising the profile of good books and authors. As a publisher I know precisely how much a prize can help to raise the profile of a book and it's invaluable. I don't think there are too many. I'd like to see more. I love them.’

Likewise, Simon Savidge sees the potential for prizes to bring good books to the attention of a wider audience: ‘All I want from a prize is a really good list of books that come forward. I have my favourites, I looooooove Fiction Uncovered, I enjoyed judging Not The Booker last year and I think the Goldsmiths prize is one to watch, the two winners (Ali Smith and Eimear McBride) so far have been brilliant. Do I think there are too many? Not really, some are a bit samey but they are getting people to read and buy books!’

What do you think? Which prizes do you look out for, and have you ever been tempted to rush out and read a full shortlist? Or are there too many prizes to keep up with? Let us know in the comments below.