The Booker Prize for friction

Squabbles, subterfuge, gin-swigging… to say nothing of 'squalid' novels. As the Booker celebrates 40 years of literary gongs, John Coldstream recalls its tempestuous opening chapters

Man Booker Prize 2008

It is not hard to imagine the scene. A hush descends on Guildhall. The clatter of cutlery on crockery is stilled. Brandy glasses hover in midair. Off-camera, Kirsty Wark adjusts her earpiece, and the nation feels it can momentarily turn up the volume on its television sets. On six faces, a rictus begins to form for the prowling lenses, ready to disguise crushing disappointment, out-and-out envy and, perhaps, a smidgeon of relief. An immediate neighbour's arm is poised to offer either a victorious embrace or a consoling hug.

And then the chairman of the judges approaches the microphone, to declare: 'The 2008 Bucklersbury Prize for Fiction goes to...' A mouthful at the most relaxed of times - and especially after a glass or two of fine claret. But it might have been...

Exactly 40 years ago this month, a small task-force was planning arguably the most significant advance in the promotion of fiction on these islands since Victorian times, when novels were launched by instalments in the national press. The shortlist of names under consideration for a new award to honour the year's best novel included: the British Fiction Prize, the Paternoster Prize, the Parnassus Prize, the Apollo Prize, the National Fiction Prize, the Victoria Prize, the Regent Prize, the Ludgate Prize and even the straightforward but startlingly unexciting Novel Prize. The earliest suggestion of Britannia Award/Prize had already been ruled out.
Read the full piece from The Telegraph online.