FULL FRONTAL ASSAULT LAUNCHED ON MAN BOOKER PRIZE

Robert McCrum, Literary Editor of The Observer, author and former publisher, makes his feelings about the Man Booker Prize very clear in this piece that appears in today's Observer.

Interesting, thoughtful and provocative his comments are reproduced here in full.

IT'S TIME TO DITCH THE PRIZE GUYS

It is amazing what one speech can do. On the way into London's Guildhall last week I was: a) rather in favour of the Man Booker prize; and b) only half persuaded by Robert Harris's magnificent assault on its 'evils' in the Evening Standard. Three hours later, the only good news was that Anne Enright had won.

After one of the most embarrassing Booker speeches in living memory, from prize chairman Sir Howard Davies, backed up by complacent, regional sales conference-style remarks from Booker boss Jonathan Taylor and Man stooge Peter Clarke, it was hard, if not impossible, to suppress the thought that our premier literary trophy should be subjected to a root-and-branch reform.

As the guests were repeatedly told during the dinner, Booker is 40 next year. In other
words, it was launched when Harold Wilson was PM, Cliff Richard's 'Congratulations' was high in the hit parade and David Cameron was just two years old. More, the English-speaking world of 1968 was divided into Britain and Commonwealth versus American spheres of influence. Multiculturalism hadyet to find its voice.

There was no Google, no Vodafone, no Microsoft and no Richard & Judy. Publishers, who now live on their BlackBerries, still received typescripts in the post. Book editors despised literary agents and everyone looked down on booksellers.

Since then, hand in hand with the biggest revolution since Caxton, the world of books has been upended.
In the process, as Harris correctly observes, editors and writers have been swept up into a dance of death with literary prize culture. The Booker novel, new fiction's mutant cousin, has come to dominate the landscape. And the Booker genre (which is what it is) has become disproportionately influential on The Way We Read Now.

Ten years ago, after a series of dreadful shortlists, the Booker management galva nised itself. The upshot was a very welcome sponsorship deal with the Man Group, an obscure but
loaded hedge fund. At first, it was all rock'n'roll. Man's young Turks called the shots and Booker's wheezy gerontocracy shuffled into compliance.

Prize night was transformed and new television coverage deals were struck.

In retrospect, the high point of Booker redux was 2002, the year Lisa Jardine chaired the jury and Yann Martel's The Life of Pi won.
Since then, there has been a slow and deadly counter-revolution. Man's innovations have been neutered by Booker.

The prize has reverted to the original model. But where once, pace Harris, it identified some really great books, it is now spectacularly out of touch. How else to explain a cultural award which in 2007 has no significant television coverage (a three-minute slot on the BBC news is plainly embarrassing to broadcasters and Booker alike), makes no reference to the US,
appears unfamiliar with the global currency of English and once again resembles a metal box company works outing.

So what is to be done?

Lisa Jardine says: 'There was a time when readers of fiction worldwide waited with bated breath for the Booker judges' verdict; this year, its activities have felt more like the deliberations of the books committee of a gentlemen's club and the outcome as inconsequential.'

For radical reform, the prize, the sponsorship, and probably the administration of the prize, should be transferred to an organisation that understands the subtle and complex
opportunities of arts promotion.

It's high time to say thank you and good night to the Man Group and to Booker's ancien regime.