Salon

Last week, in a ceremony at the Central House of Writers, it was announced that Dmitry Bykov had won the first Big Book (Bolshaya Kniga) competition. The results had been eagerly awaited, not least because the prize money was huge: 3 million rubles ($113,000) for first place, 2 million ($75,000) for second and 1 million ($38,000) for third. These figures stood in blatant contrast to the traditional austerity of Russian literary life -- the winners of the prestigious Andrei Bely award, for instance, receive one ruble, an apple and a bottle of vodka. Sponsored by several major Russian companies, Big Book was dismissed by some critics as "oligarchs' prize," devoid of any tangible cultural significance.

The jury, composed of reputable critics and writers, made a rather anticlimactic choice. Perhaps the only real surprise was that first place went to a nonfiction work instead of a novel: Bykov's biography of Boris Pasternak -- or, more precisely, his huge volume devoted to both the life and the work of the great poet, a combined genre unusual for Russia. The victory could have been a real statement, if not for the fact that Bykov is also a prolific journalist, poet, writer and television personality. One could argue that his media presence, quite apart from the virtues of the book, influenced the jury.

Second place went to Alexander Kabakov for his novel "Everything is Corrigible" and a cycle of short stories. It was the jury's safest decision -- Kabakov's books are quality mainstream literature, but hardly anything to make history. Third place was awarded to Mikhail Shishkin's "Maidenhair," a free-form novel tied together by fanciful associations.

In a surprise move, the jury announced yet another prize, something of a lifetime achievement award, which went to veteran poet Naum Korzhavin. The choice of Korzhavin, a poet belonging to the classical tradition of Russian verse, an ex-dissident and a man of notoriously bad temper, highlights both the traditionalism of the jury and an attempt at nonconformism.

Last year, the committee of the Russian Booker prize cut off its association with Open Russia, the foundation of jailed oligarch Mikhail Khodorkovsky, and teamed up with British Petroleum instead. While probably life-saving for the prize, the move severely undermined its moral reputation. It has been hotly debated whether the Big Book can take the Booker's place as Russia's No. 1 literary award. The inaugural result indicates that the chances are rather good, especially since the new prize is not bound by the novel genre -- a problem that has lately plagued numerous Booker nominations.