Judging literature is a dangerous business. A book that seems like a riveting read to me might be dross to you.

The reason why we identify with a book and draw pleasure from it is not a measurable science, the common ground we share might only be that the book is written in such a way that the sentences make sense.

The lived experiences that allow us to identify with a writer and what they have written mean that every book has someone who will treasure it – which is probably why each year the Man Booker prize causes such a storm of controversy. Those who are expected to win – and don't – are eulogised by commentators who deride the judging process and its panel.

When the winning book is announced, it is more often than not attacked by others who feel it to be either too highbrow or too populist to deserve the Booker prize.

This year one of the judges, author Louise Doughty, went on the offensive – with judges from previous years firmly in her sights. She asserted that male academics charged with picking out the book of the year did so with one eye firmly on how their choice would reflect on themselves.

The broadside accused the highbrow professor types of picking a book which couldn't be widely enjoyed because the very fact that it was readable would automatically preclude it from literary greatness.

The Man Booker organisers must surely have agreed, otherwise they wouldn't have taken the decision to leave academics off the judging panel altogether this year.

The result was a 2008 shortlist deemed to be 'populist' by the literary snobs – and a winner in The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga, described by one reviewer "a thrilling ride".

The author is now likely to experience a huge jump in the sales of his debut novel and while the purists shake their heads in dismay at the perceived dumbing down of the prize, the rest of us can watch with amusement as the Man Booker tries to referee this battle between literature and populism.

Perhaps next year, Jackie Collins will make the cut.

And another thing....

The recently released game Football Superstars allows you to live an alter-ego life online as a premiership player. Also recently, there was a benefit night held in Dublin for former Ireland
international Dave Langan – whose brilliance was prematurely ended by horrific injuries leading to homelessness, destitution and depression. But the tough realities of life for many
footballers are unlikely to be used as a selling point for a game where the attraction lies in an exaggerated glamour of the sport.