Every few years this crops up and, being a feminist, I largely agree with the criticism leveled against the system, but the opinions become so vehement and emotional from both sides that I’m starting to think we may need to hire some sociologists to do an empirical study of the entire process to see what’s true and what’s not. I need the cool-headed, anger-assuaging bath of numbers to either prove my point or shut me up. Lizzie Skurnick does a good job of summing up the outraged perspective here.

It is the conventional wisdom that women’s writing gets overlooked in the prize department because it doesn’t get enough attention at the outset, or because women writers aren’t respected. I don’t think either is true. Sure, the New York Times Book Review could be a little better about reviewing books by women. (From this I exempt my old editor, Dwight Garner, who is interested in anybody and anything as long as it’s good.) But Alice Munro, Toni Morrison and Margaret Atwood are North American institutions. (Thanks, Canada.) Kay Ryan is our poet laureate. The latest Nobel was given to a German lady. The ladies, they write good! We know it. So why are we so bad about showing it?

I got a glimmer of an answer last year as I sat in a board room hashing out the winners for one of the awards for which I am a judge. Our short list was pretty much split evenly along gender lines. But as we went through each category, a pattern emerged. Some books, it seemed, were “ambitious.” Others were well-wrought, but somehow . . . “small.” “Domestic.” “Unam–” what’s the word? “– bitious.”

I don’t know about you, but when I hear the word “ambitious,” what I think is “Nice try. Better luck next time. Keep shooting for the stars!” I think many things, but never among them is the word Congratulations.