You need to calm down (with all the awards)

I’ve lost the fight against prize winners. Defeated multiple times in my favourite bookshop, I’ve come to accept the fact. And you don’t even have to be a winner. If your novel is on the short — or long — list of potential winners, it might make it to the till. If your novel is a staff pick plus listed as a potential winner, it basically buys itself.

My goods minefield stretches to the movie industry and to retail. In the DVD shop, when the cover has a symbol that resembles a wreath, I’m renting. Walking down the aisle, a high gloss sticker in the shape of a medal stuck to a bottle of olive oil will attract me and I’ll close in, like a moth to a flame, willing suddenly to spend three figures on oil.

Watching the MTV Video Music Awards and a week or so later, the Emmy Awards, I decided to ignore the accolades. To keep an open mind and give each artist’s work a fair chance.

At the MTV Awards all the pop artists sounded the same. Based on their performances, I would have given everyone a moon man and asked them to work on their variety for next year’s awards.

But then the awards were announced. Taylor Swift (blonde hair, high heels) got the nod, as did the Jonas Brothers (black hair, torn denim) and a handsome boy called Shawn Mendes. Now it was clear those three were better than the rest. Swift’s song — You Need To Calm Down — was fun but you felt there was more to it. A message of sorts. The Brothers jumped well and for Mendes, let’s be honest, stepping onto stage would have been enough.

What did I learn? It confirmed that, as much as I’d like to think otherwise,

I’m affected deeply by awards. Although

I’m not going to rush out to buy a Mendes album (I might) I now know who he is. The also-rans in his category will remain unknowns in my pop galaxy until they pull up their socks and win some awards. Same goes for the Emmys — I’m going to watch the series and films that won.

I’m no stranger to awards. At a young age, I raked them in. Every so often a Trumpian gold star would appear on my forehead. These stars would be handed out for exceptional behaviour on the playground or, as best I could figure out, a neat haircut. The recognition was short-lived — the stars peeled off quickly — and limited, coming mainly from the teacher and my mom. But, my God, did they teach me the value of achieving.

In a capitalist society — and this is great to know if you’re young — everything is a competition. Without awards you won’t get far. The alternative, socialism, is for us all to be on the same level and for no awards to be handed out. In that paradigm there’s an OK-ness to everything and no-one rushes to land on the moon. But that’s no way to live in the West, is it? As things stand, there’s no point railing against the absurdity of awards, or how it’s hard to know which are legitimate when crowning a winner is as easy as printing a sticker.

Hans Mackenzie Main