Many people will recall the old nursery rhyme of 'Little Jack Horner, who sat in a corner eating a Christmas Pie'. I am not sure what other ingredients are contained in this pie, but clearly the most delicious and most desired by Little Jack himself is the 'plum' which he pulls out of it. Many people in the modern world still use the term 'plum' to describe a much-desired accolade, opportunity or position, and 'the plum' is a phrase often used to describe literary awards.
I am writing this article in the immediate aftermath of this year's Galle Literary Festival, at which I attended a very interesting Panel Discussion where 4 judges of literary awards and a Moderator addressed some of the central concerns that had arisen for them during their experiences of selecting and awarding the novels, poems and other texts which have won selection in the Long and Short Lists of awards and prizes in literary contests over the past 10-15 years.
One of the panellist speakers commented that the obsessive focus on prizes and awards for 'the best' work of fiction in any particular year was misplaced. It put everyone's attention on the monetary value of the prize, emblematic of its cultural value, and on the wave of publicity and intense attention that accompanies the photo shoots and gala receptions and spate of media write-ups that bubble up like fine champagne in the wake of the grand announcements.
Literary awards are truly examples of social Darwinism in action, and we can all relate to this observable phenomenon. All human beings like to be appreciated, and wish their aspirations to be fulfilled. An award, particularly a lucrative or 'well-endowed' one, (a phrase which brings to my mind voluptuous people, whose generosity of spirit is reflected in their generous physical beings and bodies), lifts the awardee above the crowd of their assembled peers.
This new, elevated spatial position of an awarded writer and the cultural visibility that it generates arouses much petty envy in the hearts of their compatriots and fellow-contenders, as well as the sincere acclaim and praise of those who love to read, and like their work for its merits.The celebrity status of all kinds of professional people are now part of our socio-cultural landscape. They are quoted on all manner of subjects, and their opinions are cited by their fans as inspiring slogans and mottos, and disseminated on Facebook and Instagram like sparks of creativity and wisdom to ignite the world.
The panellists commented that it was clear to them, as they read through and across up to 80 texts presented for their judgment and critical assessment, that in many cases the contestants were 'writing to win', with a formulaic approach and a manifest check-list of thematic content and stylistic features which they believed would yield their submissions the acknowledgment they craved.
The judges expressed the view that some writers perceived that there was a system in operation, with rules both overt and unacknowledged, and that, if they could just work out what these codes were, they could play the system like a pinball machine and win through eventually to the Mount Olympus where the deities of literature reside. So, for example, those who set up the awards could specify that the entries must accurately reflect the culture and socio-political realities of a particular region, or nation and be a recognisably valid expression of that culture. They could do this with a wish to promote the literature of a particular region, to enrich the spectrum of literature.
How could this constrict and constrain writers who wish to write in the genres of fantasy or magical realism? If narrowly interpreted, such requirements could exclude some of the best imaginative writing a culture could produce.
Past awards and literary prizes have attracted considerable criticism, from commentators who have questioned the prizes themselves, their selection processes, and the qualifications of the judges who have agreed to perform the assessments. Several past winners of many of the national literary awards in this country have been criticised on personal grounds as well as for the quality of their work, which was in some cases derided and decried as unworthy of being read by a serious reader, let alone awarded a prize.
At this panel discussion on Literary Juries, this paradoxical situation was addressed, and to some extent illuminated. One of the judges stated his frustration that he and the other judges had been expected to award a prize each year, even if there were no works of good quality presented. This was because the sponsors of the prizes and awards were 'adamant' that it would be discouraging for the prize not to be awarded in any given year.
As a result of this preference, the judges found themselves having to sift through works which they did not consider to be of good quality, to find the best or 'least worst' piece of writing: to which they then proceeded to award the prize. This comment led to a suggestion in the Q & A session that prizes could be awarded for 'worst' rather than 'best' works, as a possible deterrent to the production and awarding of bad literature.
However, even if this comment was not taken seriously, the point was raised publicly that such a position taken, to award works of literature comparatively, rather than by objective standards, could result in 'bad' and 'good' literature being virtually indistinguishable, in terms of their being awarded prizes and the recognition that goes with them.
The openness of this discussion also gave us insight into what many have observed as the disrespectful and 'attacking' nature of much of the reviewing culture in Sri Lanka, in the field of English literature since the 1990s. One reviewer has even described his subjects and targets, the writers submitting their work for these awards, whether with humility or with an air of magnificent carelessness, as 'attack worthy'.
In fact, if you read a great deal of these reviews and comments, both printed in the national newspapers, and published in online blogposts and via social media, it is noticeable that some of the so-called critical reviewing being performed over the past 15 years was being written by people who at times actually undermined their own authority by commenting not on the texts they were supposedly discussing but on the author's political position, on their socio-economic status, on their physical appearance, their sexual preferences and gender identity, etc. In fact, as raised in a discussion at the EWC Seminar in August last year, these reviews read more like items in a society gossip column than serious comments about literature. They gave more insight into the viewpoints, ideologies and compulsions of the 'critics' than they did into the work of the authors. As one senior academic has noted, they 'were rich in detail about everything - except the text itself'.
Some of the most vociferous commentators were seen by many senior academics and writers to be 'noise-making' in an effort to make themselves known. Several were not above rising to acclaim on the 'dead bodies' not of their own former selves, but of those they had critically eviscerated, whose works they had summarily dismissed, along with the 'right' to write them! When they themselves were eventually awarded the glittering prizes which they had been loudly decrying when they were won by people other than themselves, such 'plums' proved so delicious that these cultural warriors became markedly sweetened in their subsequent discourse!
Note that, in the poem about Little Jack, our hero starts from a position of marginalisation, 'in a corner'. When he pulls out the plum, he is able to feel himself worthy of his own admiration as well as the respect and praise of others: 'What a good boy am I!' he endearingly exclaims. And certainly, the experience of winning a major award generates a powerful feeling of self worth and carries with it a 'feel good' factor. One is temporarily exalted: liberated from one's labours, and all the cumulative frustrations and difficulties of everyday life which writers must contend with, in order to produce a work of serious effort. You are front and foregrounded, no longer in the corner, or shut out from the epic epicentre of everything, which looks like the ultimate elitist gated community, from the outside, looking in.
The panellists all agreed that it was not the prizes or awards that were important, but the actual process of writing which results in the creation of a literary work, and so the focus needs to shift towards appreciation of the pathway to the production of good work, rather than being fixated on a glittering prize and an award ceremony which leads to a gold sticker being affixed onto a book at point of sale.
Ignorance of the actual creative process of writers is possibly the cause of the manifest lack of pathways to publication thus far, and the lack of support & encouragement in the form of sponsored Workshops, Mentoring, Internships, Symposia, Forums and Professional Organisations in existence up until now.
The CEO of Fairway Holdings, which has undertaken to sponsor the Galle Literary Festival for 5 years, made it clear in his speech at the inaugural Fairway Award last week that the company sees that the support and encouragement of good writing between award ceremonies is what will lead to the flourishing of a vibrant literary culture in Sri Lanka.
This announcement, more than any other aspect of the Festival, signalled to me that today a change in mindset is at last occurring: a move which will encourage all participants to shift from a concept of competitive and ego-driven striving to a more generous, inclusive and giving imperative.
The perceived and actual rarity of rewards, and the cultural void and isolation in which many writers have felt themselves to be operating thus far, have led many writers to adopt a survivalistic rather than altruistic modus operandum. But this perception can change, as more corporations sponsor the cultural arts which demonstrably make our lives meaningful and beautiful.
I have a dream today...in which literary reviewers, editors and academic critics can collaborate with writers, not as many do by 'friendly' reviewing of their friends, or by surrounding themselves with a coterie of 'true believers', trained to massage the ego of the writer, to the ultimate detriment of the overall literary culture; but in the shared belief and recognition that writing is a creative expression, a pursuit which should be encouraged to be lifelong.
Creativity is a process, and the dreams and aspirations of creative people are often regrettably sidelined by necessity, by the need to carry on a paying profession which enables writers to survive, which often takes up all their creative energy as well. The GLF enables readers to talk to the writers they admire, and all of the writers I spoke to agree that, whatever else is occurring in their lives, insistent, gleaming on the edges of their second sight is the need to read and the urge to write. They have built their lives around the desire to create and express themselves, not tried to find a gap in a non-creative life in which to create.
While an Encouragement Award was given by the Fairway Award organisers, it is important to note that, with a broad view of creativity as a lifelong process and practice, writers can be seen to 'emerge' at any age and stage of their life. Good editing, reviewing and ongoing interim support for the publishing industry in all its forms can balance out our cultural obsession with awards so that we can see them as a way of raising interest in literary activity, but not as an end in themselves. Merely milestones in a road that goes ever on.
Celebrity authors can be praised, as is their due, loving fame as they often do, and being pursued for interviews on the verandahs of heritage villas, but intense workshops given by serious writers which focus on literary craftsmanship, practical insights and technical skills will be just as well-attended as the glamorous 'high level not eye level' celebrity dinners and lunches which give us access to an insider's view of the wonderful world of literature.
I thought intermittently about Guy De Maupassant's telling short story, 'The Diamond Necklace', during this year's GLF, about the difference between faux and real, between wannabe and manifest creativity. Imagine if writing could be seen as a person's natural and unique form of expression, and editing and reviewing as a collaboration with the author to discover and refine their voice, with critical advice being welcomed, not because it is fulsome gushing praise ('You are the best writer I have ever seen! I mean - ever read! You are like a walking encyclopedia of poetry!') but in service of a greater purpose than personal support.
Imagine a literary culture in which people actually utilise their own time, experience and energy to mentor another writer, and offer critical commentary with a desire to help them find their voice and 'March right up to the microphone and sing their life'. Such a culture would blur and dissolve the boundaries and demarcations of outer/inner positioning of 'who's in and who's out', who is known and who is comparatively less well known. It would result - for certain - in a profusion of writing that endures, that instructs, informs, delights and deeply satisfies the hunger of the reader and the writer for words which we can all live by, which give us insight and access into our own lives through the stories of others.
I have a dream, today, as Galle with its music and lights and images of peace and plenty streams across our screens. A portal has opened, more fully than before. The literary world we live in is broadening and deepening and lighting up - and lightening up - and livening up - at long last.
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