ANOTHER Olympics has come and gone another All-Ireland final has been decided. And just when you thought there was nothing left to argue about as the winter creeps in, enter the Booker McConnell Prize for Fiction invariably the cue for righteous outrage and lamentation. In fairness last year the Booker certainly redeemed itself when Pat Barker's The Ghost Road emerged as an undisputed winner, delighting critics and general readers. Yet too many good novels have gone unrewarded too many doubtful, compromise winners have won in the past and, hell, we're human we are supposed to protest about everything anyway.
Since its inception in 1969, Booker has often found itself caught somewhere between literary greatness whatever that it is and the comfortably middle brow. In the midst of rhetoric, grievances and agendas, the winning book is almost an irrelevancy as, yet again, we spend the month which separates yesterday's short list with the presentation 19 the winner on October 29th, debating the virtues and demerits of the six contenders.
Firstly the good news. By nominating Graham Swift's Last Orders (Picador), the judges have selected the best novel of those published in English this year and eligible for this prize. Finally breaking free of the shadow of Waterland, his 1983 Booker favourite which lost to JM Coetzee's compelling elegy Life and Times of Michael K, Swift has many claims on this prize. When London butcher Jack Dodds dies three of his old pals, in the company of his abrasive adopted son Vince set off to satisfy Jack's final wish he wants his ashes scattered off Margate pier. The request is fulfilled, in some style, driving down the Kent coast in Vince's flashy dark blue Mercedes car. It is a tension packed day trip turned odyssey, which even includes having the dead man's ashes unintentionally passed around like a relay baton among the mourners as they explore Canterbury Cathedral.
Not only is Last Orders a triumph for contemporary British fiction, it is a celebration of the hypnotic power of vernacular speech in its ability to create honest, lasting art out of life itself. Swift's inspired use of natural speech rhythms throughout his multi-voiced narrative is remarkable and virtually flawless. The complex simplicity of the narrative is brilliantly sustained through an on going series of individual monologues spoken by Ray, the central narrator, with contributions from his old buddie's Vic and Lenny, as well as some comments from Amy, Jack's widow, and Vince, who became a motor dealer in order to avoid working in the Dodds' family butcher shop. The heart rending beauty and humanity of Swift's simple story belies its awesome technical control. All of the warm, unsentimental, knowing characters in this novel speak the same language, an authentic working class South East London English resounding with a harsh realist poetry all its own. Each has his or her own distinct voice, character is created by Swift's unusually subtle handling of tone. A better winner would be hard to find.
Heartening too that the judges were not convinced by the hype surrounding John Lanchester's widely over praised and predictable exercise in cleverality, The Debt of Plea sure (Cape). Also correctly excluded are former Booker winner, A.S. Byatt's leaden though tricky Babel Toner which plays with legal language and the notions of the law arid Doris Lessing's appallingly poor Love Again a clumsily written 390 page report on the sexual trust ration of a conceited, ageing woman, which loosely masquerading as a novel, challenges even Milan Kundera for blatant self indulgence.
Many have been tipping Margaret Atwood's Alias Grace (Bloomsbury) based on a real life double murder which became part of Canadian folk history, not only for the short list but for the prize itself. It is her third short listing. Atwood, it is true, should have won the Booker for her best novel to date, Cat's Eye (1989), but Alias Grace, a demonstration of sustained story telling and multilayered flashbacks with its technical skill and mordant humour has certainly pleased the critics. Exploring narrative unreliability and the difficulty of arriving at the truth about anything, Atwood's thriller moves beyond story as it is drawn to many themes particularly male/female power shifts. Neither sympathetic nor outraged in tone, Atwood operates through irony, humour, forensic detail and intelligence. Frequently focusing on It is a big, cold book with many twists and turns and could provide a strong threat to Swift's Last Orders although it never approaches, never mind, matches, his humanity.
Few could claim surprise at the inclusion of poet, academic and critic Seamus Deane's moving debut, Reading in the Dark (Cape). An Irish contender is now a fact of Booker life. This book has been widely celebrated and became something of an enigma in the years leading up to its belated publication. However, exactly why it was published as a novel rather than the memoir it so patently is remains in itself a further mystery. Because it was published as a fiction prize, Reading in the Dark now finds itself competing in a category it does not belong to. Although it is a moving testament of a coming of age acted out in the turmoil of Northern Ireland, Deane's episodic book of dramatic self contained flashbacks is no more a novel than Blake Morrison's And When Did You Last See Your Father? (1993), a work incidently possessing far more narrative coherence, is. It is odd, that Dermot Healy's recently published The Bend for Home A Memoir (Harvill) deliberately published as a memoir, has far closer affinities to fiction than Deane's book but blame his publishers not the Booker judges for this.
CONSIDERING the quality of another Irish novel, Mary Morrissy's Mother of Pearl (Cape), it is disappointing. Although already recognised in the United States and serialised on Radio 4's Women's Hour, Morrissy's powerful account of a childless woman's determined bid for a child of her own is beautiful, terrifying and very moving. Its tragedy is brilliantly balanced by the black comedy. It would be a shame were Mother of Pearl to follow the same route as Eugene McCabe's Death and Nigh tin gales (1992), one of the most outstanding novels of recent years not to be nominated for any prize.
Nominated for the 1991 Booker prize with the beautiful and philosophical Such A Long Journey, Indian writer Rohinton Mistry is a huge talent and lively, Dickensian as A Fine Balance (Faber) is, it is not quite as good as his brilliant earlier book. His interest as a writer is rooted in evoking a sense of modern India serving as a backdrop for the small dramas engaging his characters. At each funeral, it is India, not the individual, who is buried. Time passed slowly, as though it had lost interest in the world," observes the author late in the novel. The phrase stands out, it might have come from a 19th century Russian novel it is also uncharacteristically lyrical. .4 Fine Balance is written in formal, descriptive prose which is both lately and workmanlike. Dina, the central character, is a woman who married young only to lose her husband in a freak accident. Low in middle age, but still beautiful if harper of tongue, she attempts to make her way in the world by exploiting the labours of two country tailors. Most of the novel's comedy comes from her antics though she never becomes as sympathetic a figure as Gustad the Everyman non hero of Such a Long Journey. Ultimately more social history than engaging yarn as the characters lose out to India, this is a big, old fashioned book with a big heart and certainly testifies to the confidence of modern Indian fiction.
Probably because Beryl Bainbridge appears to be yet another of those English women writers who seem to give the impression of exuding an attitude of "Larks, let's go write another novel", while simultaneously chain smoking and saying clever, nasty things about the Tory party, it is too easy to overlook her work. Every Man For Himself (Duckworth) is her fourth Booker short listing. And it is a clever, confident, highly readable little period novel about British social tensions and standard human sexual confusions, in action on board the Titanic. Morgan, the nephew of the shipping line's owner tells the story and while he is a sharp observer, he reveals a great deal about his own emerging character his confidence in tandem with his sexual vulnerability. In him, Bainbridge has created a surprisingly sympathetic narrator and although history has told us what happened, she has written a lively novel. While the British old pals' literary establishment gave her good reviews anyhow, this book is better than might be otherwise conceded.
Finally Shena Mackay, author of Dunedin (1994) and five other novels, is short listed for The Orchard on Fire (Heinemann), which also takes a specific event in British history, Coronation Year, as its central focus against which various relationships develop and collide. It is a very English novel and Mackay, a Scot, became famous very quickly for not being celebrated enough. She can certainly count on the establishment's support.
Six books three men, three women. This is a very balanced short list. Swift to win with Atwood Pushing him all the way.
