By Hephzibah Anderson - Oct 7, 2013 Bloomberg
Meet Jon Fosse, the angst-filled Norwegian journalist and novelist who turned to playwriting in his 30s and now, at 53, finds himself among the favorites to win this year’s prize.
The favorite at 3-1 is Japan’s Haruki Murakami, who was also the top candidate ahead of last year’s announcement. American Joyce Carol Oates is at 6-1, followed by Hungarian Peter Nadas at 7-1 and South Korean Ko Un and Algerian Assia Djebar at 10-1. Philip Roth trails the pack at 16-1.
Two decades have passed since literature’s Nobel was bestowed upon a U.S. author, and recent changes in the landscape of literary prizes highlight the perversity of this enduring snub to the likes of Roth, Oates, Thomas Pynchon and Cormac McCarthy.
Add to that Canada’s Margaret Atwood.
How ironic that in order to maintain its competitive edge, the U.K.’s prestigious Man Booker Prize feels compelled to open itself to talent from the very nation Stockholm routinely ignores. Starting this year, any book written in English and published in the U.K. will be eligible.
That will mainly have the effect of opening the prize to Americans, since authors from Britain, Ireland and the Commonwealth were already considered.
Perhaps the most honest prizes are those with the most precisely defined missions. Consider, for instance, the Anisfield-Wolf Book Awards, which recognize books that have made significant contributions to our understanding of racism and our appreciation of diversity.
The Dayton Literary Peace Prize celebrates the written word’s power to promote peace, while the newly created Charleston-Chichester Award celebrates a lifetime’s achievement in short fiction.
In their specificity, these prizes remind us of literature’s infinite scope. They also underscore the vastly different qualities that we each seek out as readers -- and, by extension, the prejudices we come armed with.
More
Over the course of a few days, bookmaker Ladbrokes cut his odds of winning from 100-1 to 9-1.
Two decades have passed since literature’s Nobel was bestowed upon a U.S. author, and recent changes in the landscape of literary prizes highlight the perversity of this enduring snub to the likes of Roth, Oates, Thomas Pynchon and Cormac McCarthy.
Add to that Canada’s Margaret Atwood.
How ironic that in order to maintain its competitive edge, the U.K.’s prestigious Man Booker Prize feels compelled to open itself to talent from the very nation Stockholm routinely ignores. Starting this year, any book written in English and published in the U.K. will be eligible.
That will mainly have the effect of opening the prize to Americans, since authors from Britain, Ireland and the Commonwealth were already considered.
For what it’s worth, I think the Man Booker Foundation’s decision is shortsighted.
Admitting U.S. authors betrays the prize’s DNA and risks promoting homogeneity via a certain brand of “global literature” that might hail from anywhere.Perhaps the most honest prizes are those with the most precisely defined missions. Consider, for instance, the Anisfield-Wolf Book Awards, which recognize books that have made significant contributions to our understanding of racism and our appreciation of diversity.
The Dayton Literary Peace Prize celebrates the written word’s power to promote peace, while the newly created Charleston-Chichester Award celebrates a lifetime’s achievement in short fiction.
In their specificity, these prizes remind us of literature’s infinite scope. They also underscore the vastly different qualities that we each seek out as readers -- and, by extension, the prejudices we come armed with.
More
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