Oh, well this has been a nigh on impossible decision and a Bookerthon full of rewarding reading with just three books I haven't written about for various reasons.
The Wilderness by Samantha Harvey which for thin-skinned personal reasons sadly hits too near to home and my mum and I have found it very difficult to read. In the end I decided I didn't need to feel that upset by a book I was supposed to be reading for pleasure, but I do wish it every success.
Me Cheeta by James Lever which I haven't clicked with at all and am assured by everyone else that I must have had a humour by-pass moment. Well yes, it was funny in places but repeatedly so and the joke wore thin and in the end I was ...well bored and not laughing and skimming and eventually I gave up so who knows what I missed. I do however appreciate that it gave the Booker judges a great deal of amusement, reading bits out to each other and creasing up with laughter and it's nice to think they were being happy judges.
I also have to apologise for not getting far enough into Heliopolis by James Scudamore before its place in the reading pile was usurped by the the great Atwood, which was on that September 6th - Ely Cathedral deadline.
In the end I've had to rent my garments asunder, tear out my hair and stab myself in the heart to force a decision between myself and myself and take out a couple of books I have loved to make way for a couple I have loved slightly less, but for literary merit I felt they had to be there.
If it's any consolation I shall be thrilled to be proved wrong and find, when I return from Cambridge this afternoon, that The Glass Room by Simon Mawer or The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters or How To Paint a Dead Man by Sarah Hall have made it onto the shortlist, though hopefully not at the expense of...see it's an impossible Booker year and we don't say that very often.
My £10 is already on one of these so that could all go pear-shaped too, judges do your worst.