The Booker Prize judges are not budging. After a week of international hand-wringing over their decision to shortlist a novel that reads like a Michelin-star menu, the panel has issued a defiant statement.
"This is literature, not a cookbook," a source close to the committee tells me. "The backlash is from people who haven't read it."
The book in question, "The Last Bite" by debut author Clara Mayhew, has divided critics. Its pages are dense with descriptions of fermentation, sauce reductions, and the smell of truffle oil. Some call it groundbreaking. Others call it pretentious nonsense.
But the really interesting game is the politics of it. The Booker has been trying to shake its stuffy image. They want younger readers. They want controversy. And my God, they've got it.
I spoke to a senior publishing figure who put it bluntly: "This is a masterstroke. Everyone is talking about the Booker. When was the last time that happened before the shortlist?"
He's right. The row has dominated literary Twitter for days. Columnists who usually ignore the prize are sharpening their knives. It's a classic Westminster play: dominate the news cycle, even if it means taking a few hits.
But there are rumblings of a split on the judging panel. One insider tells me the decision was not unanimous. "Some of the judges wanted a more traditional pick. But the chair, Dr. Helena Frost, was insistent. She sees this as a statement."
If true, it's a risky gamble. The last time a Booker panel tried to be clever, they ended up with a winner that nobody had heard of. The prize's credibility took years to recover.
Labour shadow culture secretary Lisa Nandy has already weighed in, calling the shortlist "an insult to real readers." The government has stayed silent. For now.
But here's the thing: this row is not really about food writing. It's about what we value in art. And whether a novel can be both lush and literary. The judges have placed their bet. We'll see if it pays off in November.
One thing is certain. The publishing world is watching. And the champagne is on ice at Mayhew's publisher. Whether it's to celebrate or commiserate remains to be seen.
