 Welcome to the British Library and to the return of the Jallak Prize. Yes, the Jallak is back. We're so delighted to host this very special prize here in the British Library for the second year running, and it's my great excitement to hand over to the one and only your host for tonight, the one and only Professor Sonny Sing. A big applause everybody. Welcome to everyone who has logged in from home to the Jallak Prize 2022. I am Sonny Sing, one of the founders of the prize and its current director. We have a rather wonderful programme lined up for you. You all at home, featuring readings from the brilliant writers shortlisted for the Jallak Prize and the Jallak Children's and Young Adult Prize. We also have a lovely celebration of our 12 bookshop champions, independent bookshops across the country who have each championed a book from our shortlist and of course our short and long list in general. Take note, cheer them and tomorrow and beyond, pop in and buy a book from our shortlist or any book at all from one of our bookshop champions or indeed your local independent. A little bit of housekeeping before we kick off the readings. The online version of this event will be live captioned, so please enable yours if you need it. The viewing links will be available for 48 hours after the event for catch up. Following the readings and celebration of the bookshop champions, we will return here to this room to celebrate great contemporary British writing. We will be joined by our judges for the Jallak Prize, Mary Jean Chan, Shemaine Tuleiman and Stephen Thompson and judges of the Jallak Children's and Young Adult Prize, Sophia Amid, Ni Aikwe Parks and Patrice Lawrence. In addition to the announcement of the winners of the R2 awards, the two Jallak artists-in-residence, Elijah Varto and Rickon Parick, will reveal the unique works of art they have created specially as trophies for our 2022 winners. Further information on Jallak Prize celebrations, including book giveaways, video clips of shortlisted writers and much more can be found on our website, www.jallakprize.com and on social media. You can use Jallak Prize 22 or Jallak Prize hashtags to look us up or indeed to add your own. So now pour yourself your favourite beverage, sit back and enjoy the show. Hi, I'm Arifa Akbar. I'm going to read a few pages of my memoir and consumed a sister's story. Three summers ago, my neighbours told that her variant cancer had reached the terminal stage. Ross and Hibbins emailed the occupants of the building about it matter-of-factly as was her way, but when I went downstairs to see her, she seemed instantly changed by the news. She was in her late 60s and had always been an indomitable woman, and she was as young and sturdy as the boulders she'd brought home from her stone carving workshops which had become her passion since retirement. In the days that followed, she seemed made of air, white-haired and fragile, her eyes watery bright, her voice catching on itself in croaks and quivers. A couple of months before Roslyn's diagnosis, my sister, Fausia, had died suddenly, leaving me suspended between shock and disbelief. She was taken to acute hospital waltz in north London, with an illness her doctors couldn't diagnose, but we didn't believe Fausia was going to die and she couldn't have believed it either. She'd been worrying about her cats and college assignments, sending texts and paying bills from a hospital bed. She hadn't been preparing for death like Roslyn. I was left reeling, so I had to muster all my courage when Roslyn called from a hospice and said she'd like to see me. I tried to sit around the twisting back streets of Belsaise Park to find the hospice. It was set back from the road and obscured by trees as if in hiding. I'd grown up nearby in Primo's Hill without ever realising it was there. Inside Roslyn asked if Fausia had been alone when she died. It was a thing she was most afraid of, she said, and it made me think about how my sister might have felt with no one she knew around her in the early hours of the June morning when blood had started to pour into her brain and collect into her fatal hemorrhage. Roslyn must have sensed my distress because she tried to comfort me. Don't hold on too tightly, she said, she'll come back to you. I remember, after school, a park, pigeons and a bench with metal scrawled arms. I'm wearing a skirt. The bench's fat's sticking into my legs so instead I'm sitting on my hands waiting for Rania, who's high on top of the new roundabout. A witch's hat. On the highest rung, her hair flung back. I remember a dog I was scared of and wanted to run and miss my sister shouting, don't run Ruby, don't run from the top of her perch. But I took flight. I ran anyway. My school satchel bumping at my hip, thwack, thwack on the jointed bone and the dog chasing and barking at my side and Rania jumping off and landing on her knee, the patella shattering like a walnut, the sound of her scream, a high, pure scream of distilled pain and the yellow dog's owner was at her side. The dog captured and tied to a stump and Rania crying, grabbing me by the wrist. I told you not to run Ruby, you silly girl, you stupid dumb girl Ruby, the wet feeling on the back of my thighs. I'd been bitten by the Alsatian but had I been bitten or had I passed water, where was mum? I didn't know. I remember my mother earlier and a blue tunic with white flowers standing under a bright golden-haired tree which I now know to be Mamoza. I thought I saw her flickering like a candle under the Mamoza for a few seconds. She was there I thought and then she was gone. Hello, my name is Anthony Vanicapildew and I'm delighted to be reading alongside The Children's on the Childlike Praise Longlist 2022. I'll be reading to you from my collection Like a Tree Walking published by Carcannet. It's a very pink book. And I'm reading to you from Charles Corsley's study in Cypruswell in Lonston Cornwall which kindly has been lent to me. Reader, I turned men into deer. Told me about a childhood running free through rainforest. Those were the best days. On all those paths, he never saw a snake. Told him about a childhood within walls. Snake in the post box. Snake let unearthed riddling. Never seen snake of the drain. Moving heavy stones we put to block its resting place. Yard had the displaced inhabitants of forest. He would have been running through with his gun and smoke bright eyes. Decades and decades. What you see, what you do, what you say, what you know, what you believe, what you have been storying yourself in storage, your storied self. Decades and decades is dangerous. Forest becomes forensics. The front is dissected. Oh, it waves over all those paths. Equivocations. You see, you do to me as if I am a woman. Come on. He says to control. Coming on, he knows control. You believe the narrative. What thorns mistaken for companions. What canopy. What shutting out. He discs his eyes. His hooves hurt. Hi. My name is Tizia Jim. I'm going to read a small part from my book Keeping Mouth today. This one. The section I'm reading is one of the last times that we see a character called Gemina for a little while. She's quite an important character. Bread Nerves and Little Hills, 2007. A Peugeot 106 stayed a trail for another car to follow. It set off largely downtown High Road. Four men inside rattling past the police station before police lost sight of it. Earlier in these nights, these four men had waved one ticket out of bounds of demanding four-for-one entry. They promised that with them inside, the whole place would light up. One of the men spoke in the retibles of the Sativa High. With each of the bouncers' rejections, his concentration broke and came back in. Gradually, his fingers carved through the air like carrion picking bones sharp and deliberate. He stood in a halo of smoke watched by girls in little hills and dunes holding cigarettes in their hands, mouths a jar. Inside, the dance floor was carpeted and its smell of peppermint. It was ravey with an hour in the middle for a cycle, focus turning. When the beat's shifting to another wave, you have to catch the moment where your moving changes. Correct yourself. Dancing as exercise, carry on to your gaspin. Water, water. Elbow tap is popping up. Water, water. Cubs of water. Second-hand flavour. Bit of a twist. Hi, everyone. My name is Sabah Khan. I am the author and artist of this book called The Rolls We Play. It's a graphic novel which means that it's a combination of drawings and writing. Today, I'm going to be reading through one of the chapters with you. What I'll be doing is screen-sharing the pages of the book so you can read the drawings whilst I read the text out. So, just bear with me in a second whilst I do that. There we go. Cool. The Rolls We Play, chapter 14. Other with a soundtrack by artists Leatherette and their song titled After Dawn. At what point did I become aware that my identity was politicised? Was it on 15th Feb 2003? My first protest. Millions of us against the war. All of us ignored. Was it on Tuesday 11th September 2001 when I was sitting in my philosophy class and I learnt new terms and new uses of ancient words? Perhaps it was the first time I was made to feel different. All these experiences my body would carry silently I held them close inadvertently giving them the power to inform key junctures and crossroads of life. One such time was at the end of college filling in new cast forms when I had to decide what path my future would take. I had applied for two different subjects with two different personal statements. Arabic, law. I didn't want to do either of them. I wanted to do fashion but drawing people is haram I would tell myself. Why don't you apply for an art foundation? It's one year and you can use that year to decide if you want to continue or if you want to go on to other stuff. This makes sense. I set about applying to the same art foundation my friend was aiming for. Apply for prestigious art school here. Tic. I tell my parents. I've spent my life making clothes. I want a better life for you. But I need a lawyer. I tell my A-levels textiles teacher, my clans. You're going to apply for that art school. Good luck. Hi, my name is Caimila and I'm going to read the beginning of an essay in this book, Things I Haven't Held. And the essay that I'll read from is called The Boys at the Harbour. In Kingston at night the harbour is beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the boys who gather around it. The boys who are still young and still have dreams as big and bright as the fireworks that light up the waterfront each new year. On that night, the first day of the year, the waterfront does not belong to the boys but to a new throng of people who wouldn't normally venture into this part of town. People who have learnt a long time ago how not to see these boys. And maybe even tonight, though it isn't the new year, if you pass by the harbour you will not see them either. Sitting as they do in the shadows under the sweet almond trees, these boys talking about their big and bright dreams. It hurts a little to hear them speak these dreams, to hear them speak about a future I sometimes doubt will be theirs. I'm going to live in one of them big big oes pan di ilta, the boy says, looking behind not to the water but to the hills that rise over this brutal city. I follow his gaze and look to those lights, glittering like sequins on the hills, the hills to which the new year's crowd will return. The house that I grew up in is on those hills as well and I too will return there in just a couple of hours. My father's house is emitting one of those lights. I'm not going to work for nobody neither, the boy continues. I'm going to be my own boss. Just a little money for start my business, that's all I need. He says none of this as if it is a question, as if the future isn't any doubt. He says it as a simple fact, something that will happen in the near future. Hello, my name is Sarida Ibikei-Mide and I am here today to read from Acele Spades, which is my debut novel. Chapter one, Davon, Monday. First day black assemblies are the most pointless practice ever and that's saying a lot, seeing as Nibbius Academy is a school that runs on pointlessness. We are seated in Lion Hall, named after one of those donors who give money to private schools that don't need it, waiting for the principal to arrive at his speech in the usual order. Welcome back for another year. Glad you didn't die this summer. Here are your senior prefects and head prefects. School values, thin. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for structure. Ask any of my friends. Correction, friend. I'm pretty sure that even though I've been here for almost four years, no one else knows I exist. Just Jack, who generally acts like there's something seriously wrong with me. Still, I call him a friend because we've known each other forever and the thought of being alone is much, much worse. Back to the thing about structure. I'm a fan. Jack knows about the many rituals I go through before I sit down at the piano. Without them, I don't play as well. That's the difference between my rituals and these assemblies. Without these, life at Nibbius would still be an endless drudge of gossip, money and lies. The microphone screeches loudly, forcing my head up. 20 minutes of my life about to be wasted on an assembly that could have been an email. I leaned back against my chair as a tall pale guy with dull black eyes, oily black hair, slick back with what I'm sure was an entire jar of hair gel and a long dark coat that almost sweeps the floor, stands at the podium, staring down at us all like we're vermin and he's a cat. My name is Mr Ward, but you must all address me as Headmaster Ward, the cat says. Voice liquid and slithery. I squint at him. What the hell happened to Headmaster Collins? The room is filled with confused whispers and unimpressed spaces. As I'm sure some of you are aware, I'm just before summer break and I'm here to lead you all through your final year at Nivius Academy. The cat finishes. His lips pierced. Hi everyone, Mallory Blackman here and I'm going to read from the book that Dapo and I created called We're Going to Find the Monster. Charlie and Eddie were playing in the garden. Breakfast in 10 minutes called dead. Come on, said Charlie. We need to find the monster. But it's been breakfast time. He'll be grumpy, said Eddie. He'll be grumpy and hungry, said Charlie. He'll be grumpy and hungry and snappy, said Eddie. He'll be grumpy and hungry and snappy and prickly, they both said together. Shh! We'll need to be very careful. And off they went. We're going to find the monster. They sailed over a shimmering ocean. Look out, there's a whale! Eddie pointed. No problem, said Charlie and she rode their boat quickly round it. Over the shimmering ocean we're going to find the monster. They began to climb a huge high mountain. Wolf! Don't worry, said Charlie and she sang a soft sweet song to soothe it. Then she gave it a massive hug and sent it on its way. Over the shimmering ocean up the huge high mountain we're going to find the monster. They crept through a deep dark jungle. Look out! The Fierce Tiger, said Eddie. They hid in a cave but only just in time. The most fearsome Fierce Tiger in the whole world slunk past. Eddie and Charlie held their breath until it had gone. Phew! That was close. Hello. My name is Geoffrey Boachy and this is my book, Musical Truth. I'm going to read a chapter called Ghost Town which is about a song called Ghost Town by a band called The Specials from 1981. Can you imagine living in an actual ghost town? Stumbling through deserted streets shivering at every wailing gust of wind heart racing at every creek. Imagine the spooky old buildings and dusty cracked windows the abandoned shops and gloomy skies. Can you imagine what would have had to have happened for the place where you live to end up like that in real life? Some people don't have to imagine this. For them, it's just normality. Urban decay has been a backdrop for black communities in the UK since black people started to arrive in this country in large numbers. It's what tends to happen to immigrants arriving in a new country, gathering together in large cities where there's a better chance for them to come in but finding that the work is low paid and the housing is run down. By 1981, this inner city environment has become pretty normal for most black communities and it came with problems. Unemployment had been on the increase since the mid-1960s. By 1980, 1.5 million people were out of work in the UK. For the working classes for people who have to work this meant that life became more difficult. For people who have to work to find money or scarce. The song Ghost Town is all about this environment. It's a haunting, eerie song that echoes through images of a very broken Britain. All of this should make Ghost Town a depressing song to listen to but it really isn't. The reason for this has a lot to do with something called two-tone. The two-tone movement was all about black and white people making music and share culture. It was influenced heavily by SCAR the traditional type of reggae music that young white musicians in places like Coventry grew up listening to in the 1960s. Two-tone took SCAR and combined it with modern genres to make a whole new sound that was West Indian, British up-to-date and traditional all at the same time. Hi, I'm Ainty Chan and I'm the author of Danny Chone Does Not Do Maths. This is the first chapter. Scoring makes me feel good. I draw literally everywhere in bed with a torch and even on the toilet. Well, you can mix that for quite a while and yes, I always wash my hands afterwards. Sometimes I sketch in the park at weekends with Ravi, my best mate. My favourite bit is coming up with new characters. One's a half one thing and half another, the best of both worlds. Like whole milk bread put together. I was really pleased with my newest creation that I called a dragon. It was a mutant duck with a dragon's head. It's very Chinese, if you ask me. Dragons are the most beloved and licky creatures in Chinese mythology and ducks are yummy and succulent. The tricky part was the head. Chinese dragons don't look like other dragons and they have no wings. Ravi is basically an expert on all things medieval knights. He says that Chinese dragons are anomalies, which is a nice way of saying they're weird. And they don't go around trying to eat princesses or battle knights. I think that's nice. A dragon is a Chinese win-win. From under my duvet I heard the door to my room squeak open. Danny, where are you? It was bar. I could tell from the sesame oil smell from the kitchen. Not now I prayed. I was still drawing. I nearly finished the camel-like head of the dragon. The duck's body would, of course, be in scale with the head. You wouldn't want a tiny duck's body and a massive dragon's head. That thing would lull up around and flop over. I slid my duvet up over my head some more, hoping that bar wouldn't see me. Saturday was usually very busy so my parents wanted me to help out by folding menus or plodding pop cans on the shelf behind the counter. But I'd rather just draw in my pajamas instead. I am Rebecca Henry, the author of The Sound of Everything. It's my first novel and I'm just going to do a quick reading from the start of the book. Chapter one. I can tell from the get-go when I'm not wanted. When you're just another foster kid sometimes it seems like eventually everyone stops caring except to get chatty patty about you before you've even walked in the door. I'm one of those girls. People know about you before they meet me. I'd like to think that Mr Tucker sat me at the front of his history class to make sure I'm doing okay. It's probably more like he was given a folder labelled Katie Hunt, which advised him to sit me under his nose where he could keep one eye trained on me. At the moment I'm actually supposed to be a Lucas, but I've always kept my real name. I rock back in my chair and test it in my head. Katie Lucas. Yeah, that was a good ring. I could fit in and I've got standings. Apart from the whole rapper's singer thing, my fashion sense is on point and I live in the same house as Miss Popularity. Katie. An explosion on the desk in front of me jolts me back into perspective. I start dropping my chair back into place and bore my hands into tight fists. Mr Tucker has a thing with whacking wooden board rubbers on the desk to get people's attention. I'm pretty sure I felt some reverb in my bones. Remind me when the suffragette movement was. He taps the bottle of board rubber insistently on the desk. I've only been at the school three weeks, but I know he won't stop until I've given him my attention. I grit my teeth. Stop banging that stupid piece of wood. Mr Tucker's eyebrows shoot up. He stops banging the board rubber. Lose the earphones and pay attention. Next time I see them, you're staying after school and that's me being ridiculously lenient. Open your ears and listen to me. I managed to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Listening is effort and for the most part I don't do effort. Hi, my name is Manjit Mann and I'm a fan of music Hi, my name's Manjit Mann and this is a reading for a Jalak prize from The Crossing. 366 days before Natalie Everyone is crying but me 7 days since she passed 7 days 11 hours 43 minutes and 16 seconds counting the days hours, minutes I've got myself from drowning Everyone is crying but me Dad squeezes my shoulder Be brave now I walk towards the front of the church 7 days 11 hours 53 minutes 9, 10, 11 12 Everyone is crying but me I'm trying to remember how to breathe my desert dry mouth, hands trembling a swallow sound It feels like an eternity before I find my voice Everyone is crying but me Tears stream down Dad's face He's given up on wiping them away His voice cracks as he reminds everyone of who she was Catherine, Kate, Kitty her laugh, joy for life mermaid, wonderful mother beautiful wife, activist big heart My mum Everyone is crying Everyone Even me Sammy Me and Mama have lain here on the cold floor for hours or seconds It's hard to know anything right now I lie next to Baba His warm hands turned cold I want more than anything to breathe life back into him Baba was fearless in a country ruled by fear I wish I was like you, I would say My son, the stargazer He would say, you are perfect just as you are Welcome to the Jolliwprize 2022 again to our viewers at home This is our first in-person celebration of the awards since 2019 so we are a little excited I am Sonny Seng one of the founders of the Jolliwprize and its current director and I'm Sonny Seng one of the founders of the Jolliwprize and its current director and we are joined by our judges today for the Jolliwprize Mary Jean Chan Shemane Suleiman and Stephen Thomson who unfortunately couldn't be here as well as judges of the Jolliwp Children's and Young Adult Prize Sophia Amid and Patrice Lawrence and I think Nea Equate Park is somewhere on his way it's been a tough day so if he arrives we will have a lot of space waiting for him In addition to announcing the winners of our two awards this evening we also reveal to you the unique works of art created especially to serve as the 2022 winners trophies by our two Jolliwp artists in residence, Elijah Vardo and Rickon Pared Also further information on Jolliwprize including book giveaways, video clips of the shortlisted writers and much more can be found at Jolliwprize.com and on social media hashtag Jolliwprize22 and Jolliwprize A quick introduction to the Jolliwprize Founded in 2016 the prize exists to celebrate the rich array of exceptional work from writers of colour in Britain whether it be fiction non-fiction short stories graphic novels or poetry the prize is also open to self published writers a new sister award the Jolliwp Children's and Young Adult Prize was announced in 2020 with the first award made in 2021 and won by one of our judges Patrice Lawrence Open to a broad church of genres and forms both award £1,000 to the winner as well as a unique work of art created by artists chosen for the annual Jolliwp art residency We believe that the most profound and greatest of changes are brought about not by individuals but by collective efforts of people organisations and institutions working together This community based ethos also means we work with and partner with like-minded organisations This is why first of all I would like to thank and honour our partners who make this prize and celebration possible First of all Thank you to our anonymous benefactor who provides the prize cheques for the winners Thanks also to our anonymous sponsors who fund the annual Jolliwp Artist in Residence There's a lot of people who do quiet work A shout out to author Dorothy Coomson who initiated the idea of the Jolliwp Art Residency and that project would not exist without her From the beginning the Historic Authors Club has supported the prize and continues to do so The pandemic pushed the prize online in 2020 but also resulted in a fruitful collaboration with the British Library that hosted our globally available online awards in 2021 and are providing today's hybrid celebration with an in-person reception as well as a globally live streamed event Starting this year we are delighted to partner with the London Library This partnership grants all shortlisted writers one year of complementary memberships The winner received two years complementary membership The London Library also hosted our first in-person shortlist event since 2019 this past April We are delighted to be able to share possibly the most writerly of libraries in the world with more of our community of writers and readers There is a special place in our hearts for national book tokens with whom we have partnered for the past two years that have helped us highlight and maximise sales potential of books by writers of colour across Britain Our partnership means that bookshops up and down the country support our shortlisted titles with creative in-store displays and promotions across websites and social media In 2022, this year, Waterstones, Foils, Blackwells, Bookshop.org and over 120 independent bookshops are promoting our shortlists I didn't think that would happen when we started in 2016 So it's really important Moreover, for a second year 12 independent bookshops across Britain are not only promoting our shortlists but are also championing a shortlisted book each with author events, podcasts, spotify playlists giveaways and more We know that independent bookshops are best placed to reach readers in their communities and cannot only showcase and sell Was that a bit of a glitch? I don't want to hear myself, thank you We know that independent bookshops are best placed to reach readers in their communities and cannot only showcase and sell books by writers of colour but they can also nurture an expanding base of potential book buyers We are grateful to our 2022 Bookshop champions some of whom are here with us today So, thank you Our frory books, Brighton Five Leaves Bookshop, Nottingham La Biblioteca, Sheffield Lighthouse Bookshop, Edinburgh Mostly Books, Abingdon October Books, Southampton Shelf Life, Books and Zines, Cardiff Story Smith, Bristol and Children's Bookshop, Neumann Books Roundtable Books and Pages of Hackney in London Thank you Also, a huge shout out to Apple Books who have Jalak Prize curated lists So, if the fruit phone is your friend look us up there Also, a massive thank you to spread the word This 2015 report, Writing the Future was the spark that led to the Jalak Prize They have provided copies of the extraordinary anthology Runaways London, published by Ink, Sweat and Tears and featuring young poets and artists of colour who have excavated silence histories of people of colour in 17th and 18th century London for our in-person guests today These are talents to watch and I would recommend you take a copy We also want to thank the Bookseller for their constant and much needed support and for hosting our very loud table at 2022 newbies this past Monday That laugh tells you all you need to know We have an outsized public image so it is often not known or is forgotten that the Jalak Prize is run entirely by volunteers If you are with us in person you will see most of our team here But a huge thank you to Jamila Amed who cannot join us today Chashmiah Owen, Hamza Jahanzaib, Kate Birch and Shia Hussain who you may spot around the event today and many many other wonderful folk who prefer to be unsung heroes Now these unsung heroes include the many donors for books to readers who make it possible for us to get books into hands of people who would not be able to access them otherwise And with that, now to business at hand We start with unveiling the two works of art created by Jalak Artists in Residence Elijah of Ardo and Rickon Parek The Jalak Art Residency annually commissions a unique work of art by an artist of colour to serve as a trophy for the prize In 2021, the residency was expanded to an annual commission to an illustrator of colour to create an original work for the children's Jalak Children's and Young Adult Prize The aim of the residency, as with the prize is to shine a light on artists of colour in contemporary Britain to recognise their creative output and celebrate their works The 2022 artists in residence are Elijah of Ardo who created the trophy for Jalak Prize and Rickon Parek, who is amongst us here today who created the trophy for the Jalak Children's and Young Adult Prize Elijah of Ardo's, you will be able to see it My grandmother's hands draws on his Romani heritage and celebrates the long tradition of oral storytelling He drew inspiration from stories that are etched and carried on our skins and specifically his grandmother's hands, which appear in the work which is a mix of wash, pencil and ink on paper Unfortunately, Elijah can't be here with us today although he assured us that he's watching this at home so give him a big cheer and he's watching it with his grandmother and Rickon is here with us today so do give him a big shout He drew on his own heritage and love illustrating animals and he created a postage stamp of a lion from the Gear Forest in Gujarat In India, the lion symbolises not only courage but also protection and safety Rickon illustrates in an analogous fashion and the illustration is created using dip pen, inking brush, watercolours, Indian ink and a very steady hand There's also an Easter egg which I'll let you know or guess afterwards Now to our short lists Six books are selected for each prize and this year the list showcases a wide range of genres biography, graphic memoir, narrative fiction poetry, essays and picture books taking in identity, grief, mental illness heritage, family, gender, class and race the titles explore a myriad of themes through inventive narratives 2020 short list, 2022 I missed the last couple of years 2022 Jellic prize short list includes consumed by a refuerper sector a beautiful and unflinchingly honest memoir of a family and especially a sibling portrait that grows to encompass medical history, art, culture and so much more Somebody loves you, Mona Archi and other stories Elegant debut novel by an award-winning poet which offers chapters as little gems and reads like a prose poem as much as a layered nuanced novel Like a Tree Walking by Anthony Vani Capaldale a poetry collection that is flawless and if you must look for a flaw maybe a little too long, but that's it and it leaves the reader gasping for breath gasping for breath with its exquisite language and profundity of ideas keeping the house, tissues and of the story a brilliant, constantly surprising debut novel that is confident in how it plays with form and style and it's at once engrossing and challenging the roles we play, Sabakan a graphic memoir with images that are absolutely independent and a fine balance of text and imagery this is psychologically astute, powerful and haunting and finally, things I have withheld Kai Miller, Canon Gate Books which is an accomplishment I'm hoping Kai is watching from across the pond because that's where he is an accomplished collection of essays by a fearless writer this is extraordinary writing unflinching and uncompromising in its ideas now, you think I'm going to announce the winner right now but no we believe in equity, so we're going to go down the shortlist for both our awards the 2022 Children's and Young Adoles shortlist Ace of Spades Faridah Abiki Iymede Usborn, a fantastic debut with a black queer character at its centre unapologetic and well written and yet incredibly accessible which the judges agreed is incredibly tough to pull off we're going to find the monster Mallory Blackman illustrated by Dapo Adiola, Huffin Book instantly lovable picture book with Mallory's magical words set to Dapa's enchanting witty warm illustrations this is a book that will be instantly loved and then beloved Musical Truth a musical history of modern black Britain in 28 songs Jeffrey Boache illustrated by Godice Faber and Faber, a social history through the lens of music which provides a great entry to understanding and teaching black history to children and in schools Jeffrey can't be here, he said hey really now, I know Danny Chung does not do maths Macy Chan, Piccadilly Press a warm hearted, hilarious middle grade story that does not shy away from the complexity of the diasporic experience and handles them deftly and generously the sound of everything Rebecca Henry, everything with words a sophisticated debut by a talented young writer with a unique grey voice and the ability to craft a nuanced complex narrative and finally the crossing Manjit Man a powerful novel and verse that confronts big themes of displacement and grief and does so with ease, subtlety and breathtaking turns of phrase these are all extraordinary books and our judges agonised over their choices as a former judge noted a couple of years ago picking a long list and then a short list and finally a winner of the Jellic Prize is an exercise in hot break as so many books are loved and beloved and must be set aside as they can only be one winner for each award yet let there be no doubt the Jellic Prize short list are testaments to the extraordinary range and quality of work being produced by writers of colour in contemporary Britain this year's short list are particularly striking for the bold experiments in form and genre courageous explorations of themes and ideas an incredible variety of creative practice demonstrated by our short listies these are books to be read and re-read to be remembered and cherished far into the future and now without further ado let's move on to announcing our two winners so first the Jellic Children's and Young Adult Prize our judges said off the winner I love this book for the warmheartedness, humour and the nuanced way it approaches the challenges of being a child, negotiating multiple identities Patrice Lawrence this is a slow burn of a book that takes a common stereotype and turns it on its head it's one of the books that crept on to my long list and made me love it more with each new reading ni a i gwey parks when I first read it I thought it would make a great class read for school children everywhere a book that can be enjoyed together and then can lead to class discussions Sofia Amad our judges unanimously selected a winner and that is Macy Chan Danny Chung does not do maths Piccadilly Press I don't think I can speak I want to thank the Jellic Prize and the judges for choosing Danny Chung I didn't think I was going to win against such juggernaughts of children's literature I'm so happy I want to say thanks to my publishers Piccadilly Press my agent Chloe from Madeleine Milburn my family who should be watching from home Alma and Santi and my husband Jose I have to thank Laila Rashid from Megafone without Laila Rashid and Megafone I wouldn't be here so thank you Laila thanks to Writing West Midlands and Kit Daval and all of those people that have supported me it's been a long road I might be a debut but I've been writing for a long time thanks to my friend Rene and Antwan for coming today to support me I was saying to my friend remember like two decades ago when I told you I wanted to be a writer and I'm like I've done it so thank you very much thanks Rene winner of the Jellic Prize 2022 our judges said gone are the days of limiting what can be exciting striking and deeply profound literature this is an impeccable storyteller who commands the page in every way Shemane Suleiman Mary Jean Chan said I find this book to be a powerful moving and thought-provoking story which shimmers with hard-earned wisdom and wonder one that is beautifully written Stephen Thompson added this is a sumptuous book with a timeless quality to the story as it moves between time and place our winner for 2022 is Saba Khan the roles we played by Myriad is a graphic novel which is a first not only on our shortlist but I think as a winner for the Jellic Prize so over to you Saba thank you Sony thank you judges I think I'm in a bit of shock really I think it's going to take a while to acknowledge in my soul that this is happening and I think as I'm talking I think it's going to take me a while I guess my family will be listening maybe not live but a bit later perhaps but I can't believe that I'm here and I'm accepting this award thank you to the people that are in this room that are supporting me my partner who's there in the terracotta shirt mark Bonsheck who's been by my side throughout this whole journey Corrin Perlman from Myriad Editions who really let me just do what I wanted to do and didn't put her foot in at all at any point which was great Emma from EDPR who also supported as well and really pushed it and then my mum just being really open with her stories and trusting me with her memories and knowing that I would honour her in the way that I did with my book and also my inner child as well I think we're here and we're doing it it's pretty incredible so thank you, thank you guys finally as we bring the official part of the evening to a close we remind you that beyond our annual long and short lists and winners every book submitted to the Jallot Prize is an act of disruption, defiance challenge and subversion these are all part of a movement to decolonise our literatures our imaginations cultures and most of all ourselves and for that we are grateful to every writer who is working away at creating stories that we need to hear so with huge thank you to all of you for being here, for celebrating with us those here, the party starts now so do hang out those at home thank you so much for joining us and with that, thank you and good night