How it all Began
Tom Maschler on how the Booker Prize was created
Tom Maschler joined Jonathan Cape as Publishing Director in 1960 – when he was only 26 years old – and within a few years had become Chairman. For some twenty-five years he has published a large number of the leading authors of our time.
At the age of 18, during the Autumn of 1951, I spent three months in Paris. I well remember sharing in the excitement which surrounded the literary prizes throughout that season. The Prix Goncourt above all, but also the smaller ones. Virtually every evening the subject would come up. Before the prizes were announced, the merits or demerits of the winner were analysed. Within a brief period of the announcement, half the people I met seemed to have read the Goncourt winner. Such intellectual fervour left a lasting impression on me.
A few years later, I found myself working in British publishing and I learned that there were a number of literary prizes in England also. In terms of extra sales generated by a book winning one of these prizes, the most significant prior to The Booker Prize was probably the Somerset Maugham Award. The winner might sell an additional 500 to 1,000 copies. Not much in comparison with the Goncourt winner who might expect to sell an additional 500,000 copies! No wonder that in England, literary prizes were considered irrelevant.
When the opportunity arose, I used to speak of my French experience and when I was invited by the Society of Young Publishers to give a talk I took the opportunity to campaign for an English prize. My goal was not simply to found a prize for the benefit of a winner nor for the sake of the bookshops, but to stimulate interest in serious British fiction as a whole. I aspired to create a competitive (and a promotional) climate by announcing a shortlist each year. The aim was to catch the imagination of the press followed by that of the public. My talk seemed to find favour. Several people commented that, desirable as the scheme was, nothing would happen unless I made it my business to find a sponsor. Once the money was there the prize would be relatively easy to set up.
At first I found the idea of raising a substantial sum of money rather daunting. But then it occurred to me that my company, Jonathan Cape, had a relationship with a possible candidate, Booker Brothers. Booker had set up a subsidiary to purchase the copyright in the work of certain enormously successful authors such as Agatha Christie and Ian Fleming. Given the fact that we published Fleming, I was aware of the degree of financial success Booker had enjoyed from this venture. So I thought they might be persuaded to plough a small percentage back into a literary prize. Thus it was that my colleague, Graham C. Greene, and I went off to see Charles Tyrell and John Murphy at Booker. We put our case and we were frank about the fact that the prize would take several years to make a mark. We pointed out that once it did so (as we were convinced it would), Booker might well find their sponsorship something they could be proud of. It might even have a commercial value. Messrs Tyrell and Murphy said that they were personally in favour but that they would have to discuss the proposition with their colleagues. A formal agreement came through rather quickly and then serious planning meetings began.
Of course it was several years before the prize became so important that the event as a whole was televised. However, it made a mark right from the start. I shall never forget our pride and joy when the very first novel to win The Booker, P.H. Newby’s Something To Answer For, appeared on the Evening Standard bestseller list. It was the first time that a British novel had found its way onto a bestseller list purely as a result of wining a prize. From the time that the prize was televised regularly, the impact was such that not only the winner but also the shortlist appeared on the bestseller list.
It is not for me to assess the achievements of the prize but I do believe that it has richly fulfilled our hopes and ambitions. Nonetheless, I have two particular concerns. One is that on a number of occasions the winner seems to have fallen far short of fulfilling our goal i.e. it was inordinately difficult to recognise the winner as ‘the best book’. Clearly this is a highly subjective question. Nonetheless, some of the novels have been such very strange choices that it is really difficult to make sense of them. My other reservation is related to the question of secrecy. Keeping the winner a secret until the dinner is an important element in suspense and in the resulting media interest. If the outcome were known to the shortlisted authors, they would have the choice of attending the dinner or not attending at all. As things stand, the secrecy leads to considerable tension. Though they have attempted to put a brave face on it, I have frequently seen authors put through anguish. Such anguish that I cannot help thinking that it might be better for the secrecy to be abandoned.
This article first appeared in the specially commissioned publication for the Man Booker Prize’s 35th anniversary in 2003. As part of the 40th anniversary www.themanbookerprize.com will be publishing selected archived writings which demonstrate the prize’s rich history.
