The Man Booker Prize: Money, Glory and Media Spectacle

Abstract

Not all middlebrow literary experiences are comfortable. To place a bet on the Man Booker Prize, I had to leave the bright noise of Finchley Road and walk down lurid, carpeted stairs, past a row of old men whose faces were lit by flickering TV screens. Behind a perspex counter, a young woman with spiky pink hair stared at me impassively.‘I’d like to place a bet on the Booker Prize.’She blinked.‘The what?’‘It’s a prize. For books.’