Shut up. I'm reading.

I make a point of spurning the Booker shortlist. Too many of the usual suspects, dreadful people with inflated opinions of their own opinions, make a point of reading all of them and then boring everyone by repeating  exactly what they said last year: They are all wonderful. Any of them would make a worthy winner.'

No, they wouldn't. Even most of the winners are unworthy winners chosen by friends of the author or his publisher.

Backscratching, incestuous luvvie garbage.