Why are we picking on Richard Osman?

 

Why are we picking on Richard Osman?

 

(How we got it all wrong about writers and publishing.)

 

Not a month goes by without one of my many author friends, or some stranger online, having a pop at Richard Osman. And yes, I have felt the occasional twinge of gluckschmerz myself. But I think I’m cured – more on that later.

 

The criticisms of Mr Osman usually fall into a few categories:

 

1.     He went to the right university so doors are open to him that remain closed to mere mortals.

2.     He was already fantastically successful so he is really just another celebrity ‘having a go at writing books’.

3.     His high profile garners free publicity on TV and beyond that other jobbing writers will never see.

4.     His celebrity-endorsed novels are taking oxygen away from other novelists.

5.     His novels aren’t very good.

 

I’ve done a modicum of research (i.e. trawling the web before posting this) and here are my thoughts…

 

1.     Yes, he went to Cambridge. And if he hadn’t, that doesn’t mean they would have been knocking on your door to fill an empty desk (they have desks there, right?).

2.     I’m not sure four novels and a fifth in development constitutes ‘having a go’. Should there be a limit on creative endeavours?

3.     True and true. There’s a hierarchy of success in every branch of the arts. And everywhere else, actually. Would you have turned down a TV plug for one of your novels?

4.     Yes and no. Let’s think about the world of publishing for a moment. Publishers exist to sell books. Promoting RO’s books generates sure-fire sales, which in turn leads to profits.

5.     I mean, who decides when it comes to popular fiction? Speaking as an author who received a one-word review that read ‘awful’, who am I to judge? And if we’re talking about ‘good’ what are the criteria? I received another review that one of my books was ‘a good airport read’ and I was pleased. One thing is certain: Richard’s books sell well.

 

So what cured me of gluckschmerz? I’m not really sure but I can tell you exactly when I noticed it.

 

My fellow author, Emma Bennet, posted online that she had just received word of a four-book audio deal. My immediate reaction was delight – for her. End of story (pardon the pun…). I know how much effort it takes to write a novel – even if it’s an airport read – and I know how engaged she is with her audience. If I’m happy for someone I know, why wouldn’t I be happy for someone I don’t know?

 

And let’s not forget, before I welcome a barrage of comments about privilege, and what about my recent post on class, Richard Osman has had his challenges. His father abandoned the family when he was young and he (Richard) has longstanding health issues.

 

You see, dear reader, I’ve come to the conclusion that life is like a game of bridge. I mean, it isn’t, but it will do as an analogy. I started learning bridge (but poorly) just before the pandemic took hold.

 

When I started out I thought that the object was to make the highest number of points. I now see it differently. The skill lies in assessing the strength of your and your partner’s hands in order to bid an achievable contract. Sometimes the distribution of cards mean you exceed your bid; other times it works against you. To me it’s a study of possibility and probability.

 

In cards as in life, and back to books. The song says it’s not where you start it’s where you finish, but, statistically speaking, that’s really down to the strength of your hand.