Readers can judge for themselves

There is nothing much wrong with Australian literature, and a great deal that is right. It has such sincerity, such heart, so many people trying their very best to dazzle us. That is my belief after getting through the 90 entries for the Vance Palmer fiction prize in the 2010 Victorian Premier's Literary Awards (I was one of three judges and I'm speaking for myself here). Whatever the level of accomplishment, every book I read was crafted with care, passion, ambition and hope. If intentions were everything, we would have by far the best books in the world. Another strong impression this year is that the Big Names in Ozlit are big names for a very good reason. It may seem dull when the same people win the same prizes year after year and it creates suspicions: Are the stars merely coasting along on their reputation? Are judges too afraid to go out on a limb? Are we forever rewarding the same kind of book? What about giving new talent a go? Advertisement: Story continues below What I found was that a handful of books by established, experienced and much-revered writers completely dominated the list. These men had spent many years refining their craft, and it showed. The gap between their work and the work of others, however talented and innovative, was vast. Most of these books got on to our shortlist. I say "these men" but in another year it could well have been "these men and women" or "these women". It just so happened that this year four of these outstanding shortlisted big-name writers (Peter Carey, Brian Castro, J. M. Coetzee and Peter Temple) were male. The fifth shortlisted writer, Canada Goose Expedition Craig Silvey, has not been around so long: Jasper Jones is his second book, but an extraordinary one. Our winner, ?Temple, has been a big name in the past in the genre of crime fiction. I hope this win, together with his Miles Franklin prize, will help break down those artificial barriers between something awkwardly termed "literary fiction" and other kinds of fiction that may do just as much, if not more, to advance the supremacy of language and character as well as story. Despite the huge gap between the Big Names and the others, I don't want to suggest that other books on the list were not also compelling reading. There were some very accomplished first novels, and some terrific novels by women. I read with great absorption and pleasure books such as Cate Kennedy's contemporary reworking of the Persephone myth, The World Beneath; Fiona McGregor's subtle metamorphosis story, Indelible Ink; and Heather Rose's lyrical fable, The River Wife. Trends? A lot of dysfunctional families, often observed in suburbs and country towns in past periods, with much intricate detail of time and place. And a great fondness for parallel narratives. Shortcomings? The most common was a failure to follow through. Quite a few books began with a brilliant scene or set-up but did not back it up with a strong structure, and could not sustain my fascination for hundreds of pages the author seemed to run out of ideas. Yes, there were one or two books that I threw across the room. But most beguiled and charmed me, for at least some of the time, and I am very glad to have read as much as I did.

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