Commonwealth Short Story Prize
2018The 2018 prize winner
‘I wasn’t expecting it. First to be among this eclectic quintet of winning stories, all with central resonating themes – happiness, connection, isolation, freedom, repression, acceptance. Then to be chosen from that, I feel incredibly honoured that this Trinidadian tale has travelled so far. I hope others in my region are inspired by this accomplishment’.
‘Our winning story, Passage, was immediately and uniformly admired by the judges. It is an uncanny bar story, about a man who hears a strange tale, only to become part of the tale’s re-lived strangeness. It balances between formal language and demotic, ideas of civility and ferality, is tightly woven and suspenseful, beautifully and eerily atmospheric, and finally surprising. It is, in essence, all a reader could want from the short story form; a truly crafted piece of fiction that transports the reader into another world, upends expectations, and questions the nature of narratives and narrative consequence‘.
Regional winners
Sarah Hall, Chair of the Judges, said: ‘Each of the winning regional stories speaks strongly for itself in extraordinary prose, and speaks for and beyond its region, often challenging notions of identity, place and society. Individually, the stories exhibit marvellous imaginative and stylistic diversity; together, they remind us that our deeper human concerns and conundrums are shared, and that the short story form is uniquely adept at offering the reader a world in which she or he might feel a sense both of belonging and un-belonging, might question his or her understanding of the world.’
- Canada & Europe 'Ghillie’s Mum' Lynda Clark (United Kingdom)
- Pacific 'Matalasi' Jenny Bennett-Tuionetoa (Samoa)
- Caribbean 'Passage' Kevin Jared Hosein (Trinidad and Tobago)
- Asia 'The Divine Pregnancy in a Twelve-Year-Old Woman' Sagnik Datta (India)
- Africa 'True Happiness' Efua Traoré (Nigeria)
Luke Neima, Granta‘s Online Editor, said: ‘Granta magazine is delighted to be introducing the storytellers and writers who have been awarded the 2018 Commonwealth Short Story Prize to our readers. This year ’s selection introduces exciting emerging talents from around the world, writers who bring to their readers a thrilling and essential glimpse of the tradition, culture and vibrancy of life across the Commonwealth. Here is a rich new seam of voices, ideas, and talent from around the world.’
Ghillie’s mum would be just like everyone else’s if she could only stop turning into animals.
This is a story about difference, identity and the high cost of conformity. Set in a conservative Pacific Island society, Matalasi plunges the reader into the inner world of an individual forced to choose between identity and survival.
A man, going through a mid-life crisis, decides to hike up a mountain. Along the way, he finds the skull of a child near a mysterious house.
A twelve-year-old is pregnant with the child of God. The good villagers must overcome all the obstacles standing in the way of the divine birth, especially the mother.
A troubled thirteen-year-old boy in Lagos questions his pastor’s definition of true happiness.
The Shortlist
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'Berlin Lends a Hand' , Jonathan TelUnited Kingdom
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'Chicken Boy' , Lynne RobertsonNew Zealand
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'Dancing with Ma' , Harriet AnenaUganda
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'Empathy' , Cheryl S. NtumyGhana
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'Ghillie’s Mum' , Lynda ClarkUnited Kingdom
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'Goat' , Sally CraythorneUnited Kingdom
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'Hitler Hates You' , Michelle SacksSouth Africa
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'Holding On, Letting Go' , Sandra NorsenAustralia
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'Juju' , Obi Calvin UmeozorNigeria
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'Jyamitik Zadukor' , Imran KhanBangladesh
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'Matalasi' , Jenny Bennett-TuionetoaSamoa
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'Night Fishing' , Karen KwekSingapore
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'Nobody’s Wife' , Chris MansellAustralia
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'Passage' , Kevin Jared HoseinTrinidad and Tobago
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'Son Son’s Birthday' , Sharma TaylorJamaica
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'Soundtracker' , Christopher EvansCanada
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'Tahiti' , Brendan BowlesCanada
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'Talk of The Town' , Fred KhumaloSouth Africa
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'The Boss' , Breanne Mc IvorTrinidad and Tobago
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'The Divine Pregnancy in a Twelve-Year-Old Woman' , Sagnik DattaIndia
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'True Happiness' , Efua TraoréNigeria
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'A Girl Called Wednesday' , Kritika PandeyIndia
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'After the Fall' , James SmartUnited Kingdom
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'An Elephant in Kingston' , Marcus BirdJamaica
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Berlin Lends a HandJonathan TelUnited Kingdom
A German couple are hosting a Syrian refugee in their home in Berlin. Tensions arise.
‘Here we are again at the Lambrechts. A dozen of us, fifteen, then the Rowinskis, who are always so punctual, come half an hour late – their refugee had a panic attack, and they had to wrap him in his comfort blanket; they feel guilty about leaving him alone, but on the other hand … and of course we understand, we understand: the Lambrechts is the one place we can speak freely, we can confess our doubts, our mixed motives, our wondering whether after all it is worth it, and we can reassure one another that these feelings are normal, and yes, the Lambrechts declare, notwithstanding the challenges let us not forget the successes, Rudi’s refugee passed the German proficiency test at B2 level and has secured an apprenticeship in a carpet factory.’
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Chicken BoyLynne RobertsonNew Zealand
We are all attracted to danger at some point in our lives and none so much as when we are children. Set in an abandoned quarry, Chicken Boy is about three children, one of whom has a secret. The story unleashes the harshness and beauty of childhood.
‘The seagull watches the children crawling up the abandoned quarry. If you held a lens up to the sun, you could burn their tiny bodies to cinders. One of the children stops. Shielding her eyes against the sun she looks up. The seagull’s head tilts. Its beak opens impossibly wide. Uhhhhh, uhhhh owwwww. Its beak snaps shut.
“It’s laughing at us. I hate it,” David picks up a stone and chucks it at the seagull.
“You have to throw it up higher if you want to hit it.” Kate watches David’s stone vanish into nothingness at the bottom of the cliff.
David pulls down his hat. “I can’t get sunburnt. Mum says I’ve got beautiful skin.”
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Dancing with MaHarriet AnenaUganda
Dancing with Ma’ is the story of Kec-kom, a teenager forced to become an adult when she grows up and realizes that her mother died while giving birth to her. The failure of her father to shield Kec-kom from mistreatment and abuse from her grandmother and aunt, forces the girl to take matters into her own hands. But it will take more than walking away for her to regain her freedom.
‘They found Ma in a banana plantation, knees to chest, arms stretched forward, as if she was trying to scoop something towards her bosom. She was naked from the waist down, underwear and skirt soaked and reddened, next to her.
Their attention quickly shifted to you, the baby lying beside her, thumb trying to find mouth, tears dry on face like scales, legs kicking the air. When the thing between your legs confirmed that you were a girl, they named you Kec-kom.’
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EmpathyCheryl S. NtumyGhana
A young fugitive has made it his mission to ease the suffering of others. His intentions are pure, but his methods are drastic – and dangerous.
‘They found another one in the night. A girl this time. Young, not much younger than Aten. Maybe fourteen. They say she hung herself with trapwire and it was too tight, too sharp, and it sliced her throat. It was the bleeding that killed her, before her neck broke.
It’s hard to know what is rumour and what is true. A girl is dead, that much is certain. I lie awake in the dark and try not to think of her body hanging from the rafters, of her terrified soul trying desperately to untether itself from that body, of the people she left behind.
That makes twelve now. Twelve deaths. Twelve suicides.’
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Ghillie’s MumLynda ClarkUnited Kingdom
Ghillie’s mum would be just like everyone else’s if she could only stop turning into animals.
‘When he was a baby, Ghillie’s mother was mostly an orangutan. Like most mothers, she’d cradle him in her arms and blow raspberries on his belly, but unlike most mothers, she’d also change his nappy with her feet. In those early days, as far as he could recall, it was only at bath time she was other animals. A baby elephant to squirt him with water from her trunk, a porpoise to bat his rubber duck around the bath with her domed head, a dumbo octopus making him laugh with her big, flapping earlike fins, and grasping his bath toys with her many arms.’
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GoatSally CraythorneUnited Kingdom
On the first day of the thaw, a brother and sister work to bury the latest body on a dying farm. But, death is an easy business when compared to the complications of life.
‘On the first day of the thaw, they started to dig. The body was three days dead.
Her brother, Joe, took the brunt of the work, cut turf and hefted. Ma had chosen a place under the line of trees, a good fifty feet from the stables. Tree roots were a problem. Ellie drove the spade edge along the line of the cut. Joe glanced up, spat and nodded, before bending back to task.’
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Hitler Hates YouMichelle SacksSouth Africa
A socially-awkward and recently bereaved young woman flees her American hometown for her ancestral one. Alone in Berlin, she struggles to connect with the city and its people, until one night, she meets a young Bulgarian cleaner at a supper club.
‘Attend A Supper Club is #29 on the list of 30 things you can do to meet people in a new city. You can also Join A Singing Group, Meet Over Manicures and Take Up Tango. As I am tone-deaf, a nail-biter and largely averse to touching strangers, I am currently in a basement waiting for a main course and trying to engage with potential new friends. Small talk is my nemesis, but I push through.
Yes, I’m from the USA. No, I speak no German. Yes, I’ll learn.’
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Holding On, Letting GoSandra NorsenAustralia
Jim, a self-confessed bossy old coot, finds young Rosie on the side of a remote road and opens his home and his heart to her. Together they revisit painful experiences, trying to discover whether a relationship can be too badly broken to hold on to.
‘She is lost in the landscape. The road reaches away like an outstretched hand, one slender finger pointing into the hollow between hills dried to a golden blankness. Oily clouds loop across the tops of the mounds and a barometric blanket presses down around her. She inclines her face towards the louring sky, feeling the breeze lift the hair from her bare shoulders, hearing it rattle through the trees that crowd down behind her, breathing their secretive darkness. She shivers. It’s five thirty and the light is failing. She wishes she could disappear into the wind.’
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JujuObi Calvin UmeozorNigeria
Two friends set out to rescue their childhood friend who was last seen at the home of a notorious juju priest. But they soon realise that nothing is what it seems.
‘The morning Dave comes to see me about his problem, I’m in a foul mood. I mean, I’ve been in one most my adult life whenever there isn’t a bottle of Guinness in my hand, but that day – late in December – is particularly bad. The week before, my boss at the noodles factory on the edge of town called all five of us in my work crew into her office; told us some customers had found bugs in their noodle packs, and, before we could even mutter any protest, she laid down the hammer. Then a couple of days later, Nkechi just up and left me. Said I was “holding her back.” Five years tossed down the stinker; and she didn’t even look back at me the morning she dragged her Samsonite bag out the door. Took my favourite blanket with her too, the Grinch.’
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Jyamitik ZadukorImran KhanBangladesh
The Geometric Wizard depicts the pathos of partition of Bengal (1947), which left a deep wound on the breast of Bengal. Millions of people became homeless and took refuge. The Geometric Wizard shows how an artist, being separated from his wife because of the partition, revolts artistically against the political business the capital of which is religion.
‘My grandfather had an elder brother, he used to live in Calcutta. He was a journalist with the Doinik Azaad newspaper, alongside which he practised the arts – writing stories and painting. Some of his stories were published in Doinik Sougat. We had been told the great poet Nazrul had summoned him to lavish praise on those stories. He once had a solo exhibition of his paintings at the National Museum in Calcutta. The other thing he did was to write long letters to Dada, my grandfather. Some of those letters are still in my father’s cupboard. He chanced upon them one day while cleaning the shelves, after which the memories came flooding back. I have read the letters.’
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MatalasiJenny Bennett-TuionetoaSamoa
This is a story about difference, identity and the high cost of conformity. Set in a conservative Pacific Island society, Matalasi plunges the reader into the inner world of an individual forced to choose between identity and survival.
‘He slammed the door shut and leaned against it. He had to get away. From the constant yapping that the dogs were keeping up in the back yard. From the squeals and laughter of the unattended children on the front porch. From the women shouting and chopping meat in the kitchen. From his mother’s nasal voice fussing over the bridesmaids. From his aunts arguing in their very, very loud voices over who had lost the jewellery Aunty Luisa had brought from Australia. Voices that announced to the neighbours the unparalleled importance of their ‘āiga and of their child’s wedding.’
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Night FishingKaren KwekSingapore
A son and father navigate the channels, at once grandiose and fragile, of a lifelong bond.
‘My father grips the Singapore Angler and I have to prise his fingers off the monstrous ikan kerapu on its cover. The magazine comes free at last, the great fish flopping onto the bed. The nurse snaps on a pair of surgical gloves and wiggles fat little sausage fingers. “Let’s get that catheter out, so you can go home once you’ve done a normal pee.” She parts his hospital robe and I turn away to give him some privacy, but he touches my arm: Stay. “Now, just relax, Uncle,” she coos. He shoots me a look: They only tell you to relax when it’s going to be painful.’
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Nobody’s WifeChris MansellAustralia
From the dust-honey light of the pawn shop (in a good neighbourhood, our heroine affirms) to the wild streets, Mrs Bannerbain is in interest in the stories but is led astray.
‘I am nobody’s wife. That is, I am a wife, a wife of a particular person called Mr Bannerbain, but I am not owned by it in the way it’s said: “This is my wife”, as “This is my broomstick”, or “This is my cat. I can stroke her and put her out whenever I please.” How dare you. If I am anything in respect of him, he is my familiar, and I his. We circle around each other like a pair of dull moggies, bung-eyed and showing the scars of the battles we have fought. Not with each other – the world assails us and we do not know how to win. But we have the shop.’
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PassageKevin Jared HoseinTrinidad and Tobago
A man, going through a mid-life crisis, decides to hike up a mountain. Along the way, he finds the skull of a child near a mysterious house.
‘As all Saturday nights went, we slipped by the wives and find weselves down by The Tricky Jester. The name made it sound like an establishment outta King Arthur days, but don’t get fooled—the place is just as grimy and ragadang as all them other hole-in-the-wall pubs you coulda find here in central Trinidad. Thinking bout it, you don’t see much of those anymore. The Tricky Jester, you leave your shame at the door. The new places, you have to comb your hair and put on perfume just to get a drink. Times change, you know. World going one way, people another.’
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Son Son’s BirthdaySharma TaylorJamaica
The story Son Son’s birthday touches on themes of family, mental illness, perception, reality, loss and redemption. After years of separation, Dina has an encounter that convinces her she has been reunited with her long lost son.
‘Mi wake up this morning like mi moving under water that too green. Something mi cyaan see siddung pon top of mi…weighing mi dung. Mi nearly knock over the enamel cup on the side-table next to the mattress. The same mattress that sag in the middle like a ole donkey wid a bruk back. The likkle room – weh mi live in for the last 20 years– all of a sudden seem strange. Like mi turn duppy – lost inna smaddy else nightmare. Is like the Lord God Almighty Himself tek Him giant hand dem and lift me up inna the night and rest mi down pon a different woman bed.’
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SoundtrackerChristopher EvansCanada
Single, depressed, and kicked out of his own band, Nate offers his services as a musician-for-hire and stumbles into an unusual partnership.
‘Writing the ad was a struggle. It wasn’t until I was sitting at the computer—the “creative services offered” section of Craigslist open in front of me—that I realized I wasn’t totally clear myself on what I was offering, let alone how to describe it to strangers. I fussed over the wording for almost an hour. Musical Orchestrator? Audio Companion? I finally settled on:
Soundtracker for hire. Multi-instrumentalist available to provide original musical accompaniment for special occasions or just hanging out at home. Make your wildest (musical) dreams come true. Competitive rates. Call anytime.’
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TahitiBrendan BowlesCanada
Girl meets boy. In prison.
‘At some point every Saturday afternoon for the last eight months the phone rings and I pull my fingers in my apron. I talk to Frank on my landline—it has to be a landline—for his full fifteen and we come to know each other through questions: what is your policy on, have you ever, would you ever, and one day, I hope, why did you, how could you.’
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Talk of The TownFred KhumaloSouth Africa
Our 11-year-old narrator is on a two-pronged mission: to help his mother elude meddlesome debt collectors; and to save the picture of Jesus Christ that’s in the family lounge “from being stolen by visitors” with their hungry eyes. VISITORS, GO GET YOUR OWN JESUS!
‘We claw back to the past, where we find sweet memories hiding in a corner. We grab them by their ears, drag them out of their hideout and ask them to speak to us. SPEAK TO US, MEMORIES, SPEAK TO US!
The memories open their mouths and speak thusly: Mpumalanga township, KwaZulu Natal, circa 1979. You are 10 years of age. Your mother had the neighbours’ mouths salivating when, at the end of October the previous year, she had delivered to the house a brand-new kitchen scheme from Ellerines. And a dining room suite from Town Talk.’
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The BossBreanne Mc IvorTrinidad and Tobago
A boy goes to a job interview with the CEO of SFK Advertising. At first, the CEO asks about his résumé; but then he asks what the boy knows about Sunny ‘The Boss’ Boodram, Trinidad’s most notorious drug lord.
“What’s your name?” the guard asks. He’s wearing a navy-blue shirt with a clip-on tie.
“Nathan,” the boy says.
“Nathan what?”
The boy peers at the building behind the guard. It’s a three-storey crowned by the company’s logo: three arrows converging into a larger arrow. A light-up sign reads SFK ADVERTISING.
“Listen to me young man, no one goes in that building unless I write their name in this book.” The guard holds up a hardcover notebook with DENNIS written on the cover.
“Nathan Peters.”
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The Divine Pregnancy in a Twelve-Year-Old WomanSagnik DattaIndia
A twelve-year-old is pregnant with the child of God. The good villagers must overcome all the obstacles standing in the way of the divine birth, especially the mother.
‘One day in March, just before dawn, our whole village woke up from a dream in which we had been visited by God. When we spoke to each other in the morning, we found certain differences in our accounts.
For some of us, God was an old man. He had a bald head and a ridged face, and was dressed in a gown of fine gold silk with broad sleeves. Some saw Him as a set of flaming eyes with long masculine eyelashes suspended in air. For some, God was just a drop of light flickering in the wind of the table fan. For Isaac, the science teacher, God was invisible, but had the voice of a woodcutter.’
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True HappinessEfua TraoréNigeria
A troubled thirteen-year-old boy in Lagos questions his pastor’s definition of true happiness.
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A Girl Called WednesdayKritika PandeyIndia
A Girl Called Wednesday is a story of female companionship against the backdrop of neoliberal governance and Maoist rebellion in Jharkhand, a mineral-rich state in Central India.
‘Buddhni and I lie on her khatiya wondering where our bras and panties could be. Out of breath and happy we are. Her saree, blouse, petticoat, my jeans and top, they are toh easy to find yaa. They don’t slip beneath pillows and blankets or fall on the floor before wandering off under her khatiya, where, safe amidst the cobwebs, Buddhni keeps her dead parents’ clothes in two cartons of Coca Cola.
But underwear. A whole different story underwear is. Impossible to find right after you orgasm, before rushing back to the study table without Mummy or Papa suspecting that you’ve been sleeping with the househelp. Mostly before dinner we do this.’
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After the FallJames SmartUnited Kingdom
After the Fall is about Yun, a physics student and keen climber, and her father Ling, an out of work highway planner, living in London. After the Fall is about displacement, why we tell stories, and the endurance of legends.
‘In China, Yun’s father, Ling, was a highway designer. He wore a suit every day, even in the field.
”Wherever the road goes, I will always come back to you”, Ling said.
Now, he sits in a flat in London, lounging in sportswear and getting nothing done.
When Yun was a child and was nervous or had a stomach ache, she would com-plain of having belly weather.
”All storms pass”, her father told her then. He made her peppermint tea, with ginger. ”You and your stomach both need to settle”, he said.
Yun’s mother is called Mei. Of the belly weather, Mei said, ”you would do well not to eat so many sugar cookies.”
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An Elephant in KingstonMarcus BirdJamaica
A disgruntled accountant finds himself obsessed with the origin of an Elephant which mysteriously appears in the city centre of Kingston, Jamaica.
‘People tell me that they saw an elephant in Kingston and I could not believe them. These were members of my family, friends, co-workers and people at my workplace. As my fingers shuffled through the ledgers I’d touch each day the numbers didn’t seem to add up. Outside, the day bright and clear with spots of white, wispy clouds became tinted with the yellow of dismay and confusion. I’m a pretty average guy. I listen to a little radio, read novels every now and then, and when I get home to my wife, I rarely do anything other than missionary if she feels frisky.’
This year’s judging panel
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Sarah Hall
ChairSarah Hall received a master of letters in creative writing from Scotland’s St. Andrews University and has published five award-winning novels and a collection of short stories, Beautiful Indifference which won the Portico Prize for Fiction 2012 and the Edge Hill short story prize. In 2013 she was named one of Granta’s ‘Best Young British Novelists’, and she has won the BBC National Short Story Award and the E. M. Forster Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. She has judged a number of prestigious literary awards and prizes including the Man Booker. She has tutored for the Faber Academy, The Guardian, the Arvon Foundation, and has taught creative writing in a variety of establishments in the UK and abroad.
Facebook: @AuthorSarahHall
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Marthinus Basson
Damon Galgut
JudgeDamon Galgut was born in Pretoria, South Africa in 1963. He published his first novel in 1984 and his newest, his eighth, in 2014. His work has been shortlisted for numerous international awards, including the Man Booker Prize (twice), and has been translated into sixteen languages.
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Sunila Galappatti
JudgeSunila Galappatti has worked with other people to tell their stories, as a dramaturg, theatre director and editor. She started her working life at the Royal Shakespeare Company and Live Theatre, Newcastle, working with both new and experienced writers for the theatre. Later moving to Sri Lanka, her other home, she has been a Director of the Galle Literary Festival, worked with Raking Leaves on its Open Edit project and is a Trustee of the Gratiaen Prize. She commissioned and edited the non-fiction section of www.addastories.org in its first year. She is the author of A Long Watch, retelling the memoir of a prisoner of war. .
Twitter: @Sunilagala
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Kateri Akiwenzie-Damm
JudgeKateri is an Anishnaabe writer of mixed ancestry from the Chippewas of Nawash First Nation. She lives and works at Neyaashiinigmiing, Cape Croker Reserve on the Saugeen Peninsula in southwestern Ontario. Her writing has been published in various anthologies, journals, and magazines in Canada, the US, Aotearoa/New Zealand, Australia, and Germany and in the collection My Heart is a Stray Bullet. She is the founder and managing editor of Kegedonce Press, a publishing house devoted to Indigenous writers.
Twitter: @KateriAkiwenzie
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Mark McWatt
JudgeMark McWatt has published three collections of poetry, Interiors (1989), The Language of Eldorado (1994) and The Journey to Le Repentir (2009), the second and third of which were awarded the Guyana Prize for Literature. His first work of fiction, Suspended Sentences (2005), was the winner of a Commonwealth Writers’ Prize in 2006, as well as the Casa de las Américas Prize for best book of Caribbean Literature in English or Creole. He is co-editor (with Stewart Brown) of The Oxford Book of Caribbean Verse (2005).
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Paula Morris
JudgePaula Morris is the author of the short story collections Forbidden Cities (2008) and False River (2017); the essay ‘On Coming Home’ (2015); and seven novels, including Rangatira (2011), winner of best work of fiction at both the 2012 New Zealand Post Book Awards and Ngā Kupu Ora Maori Book Awards. She teaches creative writing at the University of Auckland and is the founder of the Academy of New Zealand Literature.
Twitter: @pjkmorris
Frequently asked questions
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The prize is open to all Commonwealth citizens aged 18 and over – please see the full list of Commonwealth countries here.
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The regional winners receive £2,500 and the overall winner receives a total of £5,000. The winning stories are published online by Granta and in a special print collection by Paper + Ink. The shortlisted stories are published in adda, the online literary magazine of the Commonwealth Foundation.
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The story must be between 2,000 and 5,000 words.
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