If I'm not mistaken there'll be an announcement of the winner of the Booker Prize for the year soon. I've just finished Hilary Mantel's Bring Up The Bodies, the follow-up to her Booker winner Wolf Hall, and, remarkably, it's even better, so I wouldn't be surprised if she proves a double winner. But, equally, I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't win anything. It really doesn't matter. The only relevance of the prize, or any kind of prizes for works of art, is the good publicity they bring to work that deserves it and is very unlikely to get widely publicised in any other way.
I reckon I'm not the only fanboy her Cromwell saga will have gained by now, and I use the term (fanboy, not saga) advisedly. I read Bodies with the kind of uncritical relish you give to a novel that you just love despite its flaws. Mind you, I'm so hypnotised by the story I can't think of any flaws at all at present - and don't intend to try. I'll leave that to the worthy Booker judges.
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