Just over a year ago, I predicted the outcome of the inaugural Goldsmiths Prize, and (to nobody's surprise) got it right. Since then the winning author, Eimear McBride, has become internationally acclaimed as the leading writer of her generation, and her novel a masterpiece.
I've written elsewhere about my favourite book on this year's shortlist - The Absent Therapist by Will Eaves. It's nothing like McBride's A Girl is a Half-formed Thing, and nothing like any of the other novels on the shortlist (at least three of which seem to me odd choices for this prize, which aims to reward innovation). So we shall see.
But what's the point of all this?
The point of all this is that I've been thinking a lot about prizes, or rather why I regularly - almost invariably - type the word as 'prozes'. I'm alarmed that this might be a sign of what we all call 'early onset', or the harbinger of a stroke, or something. Just now, for instance, I typed prizes as 'prozes' and in typing this very sentence made the same mistake. Worrying.
The point of all this is that I've been thinking a lot about prizes, or rather why I regularly - almost invariably - type the word as 'prozes'. I'm alarmed that this might be a sign of what we all call 'early onset', or the harbinger of a stroke, or something. Just now, for instance, I typed prizes as 'prozes' and in typing this very sentence made the same mistake. Worrying.
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