You seldom see publishers as passionate about their books as on award day. But here old Bookninja pal Sam Jordison describes what goes through one’s mind on not only losing, but losing in the middle of a massive clusterfuck.
Toxic thoughts and questions flood your mind when you can’t trust the process. And the worst of it is that all this mess reflects badly on two fine and noble writers. I wish only good things for Margaret Atwood and Bernardine Evaristo. I love their books and agree with Hirsch that their careers deserve recognition. But that wasn’t supposed to be the point. I have another fear. Naturally, a lot of my sadness about this mess stems from the feeling that my beloved author and her masterpiece have both been mistreated, not to mention the other shortlisted writers. But there may be an even bigger, separate problem. I still find it impossible to work out the maths that made five jurors unable to vote on the outcome, as Peter Florence claimed.