On 14th October 2019 the Booker Prize was awarded to signify a work of outstanding literature as it has been done annually for the last 50 years. However, this year prize was awarded to not one, but two winners: Margaret Atwood for The Testaments and Bernardine Evaristo for Girl, Woman, Other. Though not the first time that the prize has done this, the last time was over two decades ago, when a regulation was put in place stating there could only be one winner.
When announcing their decision, the panel stated that this unique circumstance did not come from an inability to choose between the two, but rather from a deep desire in the panellist for both to win. This move ‘break the rules’ in awarding a prize that symbolises so much in the literary realm (though in all honesty, it is only really significant to publishers and book traders) to two authors seems curious. On the one hand, such a move recognises the arbitrary nature of such competitions, where decisions can be swayed by the smallest of things, from the mood of the panellists on the day, to weather. Maybe slightly exaggerative on my part but my point here is simply to highlight the inherently contradiction of making an object decision from a wholly subjective action. So why make it more complicated?
Maybe it was just an impossible decision for the panellists, torn between the implication of rectifying Atwood’s arguable missed award for The Handmaid’s Tale by awarding it for The Testaments and the significance of presenting the award to Evaristo’s underappreciated and incredibly momentous tale of a group of black British women and their experiences. Though I have talked about my opinion of The Testaments and mentioned how much I enjoyed the novel, and while I will not challenge the importance of Atwood’s writing, I will admit that I took issue with the notion of dual winners.
Evaristo’s win is a momentous moment in the history of the Booker award, as she is the first black woman to be awarded the prize. However, for the prize to be shared with another (even another woman) when the moment itself holds a particularly political significance, one that is severely diminished and, I would argue, close to being disrespected by it being a shared award. The issue at hand at this point is not the quality of the work. Being both longlisted and shortlisted for the Booker is already a testament (pun intended) to the authors’ ability.
Then why split the award? Upon receiving the award, Atwood herself stated that she had no need of the recognition of the award, and was glad that Evaristo was acknowledged as a winner. It seems that even Atwood recognised the purpose of such an award: publicity. In this case, it seems clear that the intended objectivity the panel so wished to purport, failed. Not only did it fail in its objectivity, but in its desire to remain distanced from the social nuances of the notion of a ‘winner’, the panel ironically demonstrated a very problematic opinion: a desire for literary awards and recognition to be colour-blind.
There is no doubt that Evaristo has proven herself to be a captivating writer technically. However, similarly, one cannot ignore that her work deals heavily with the gender and racial aspect of black female lives and experiences. And one of those experiences not uncommon to black women is not being recognised fully for their achievement, and in this case being unfairly made to ‘share’ an award when the significance of a single winner (the very first female, black winner) held such political importance. Indeed, a dual winner in this scenario may in fact be just another cop-out from yet another award panel that has seen its day. Indeed, more than anything, what this might be telling us it that literary awards that like to present the illusion of authority have had their day.
~S~
