I AM ALMOST ADDICTED TO BEING an awards judge. I have assessed radio shows, television programmes, television presenters and books. By far the most time-consuming is books. Last summer was a time of endless knocks on my front door by couriers with another batch of submissions. I would stare at boxes or heavily taped envelopes and wonder when the flow would end. But although I occasionally regretted agreeing to be a Costa First Novel Award judge a few minutes after saying yes to being a William Hill Sports Book of the Year judge, I enjoyed myself immensely.

There is something hugely satisfying about placing a book to one side, thinking it might be a contender. It is equally satisfying to throw one over your shoulder, spitting that it is not fit for a charity book stall.

Each award has a different format and the Costa affords more power to individual judges. Three are appointed for each award and each is sent a batch of novels – but not the same ones. So if a judge has a secret hatred of any book say, with the word “love” or “thrombosis” in the title, or thinks that awards should go only to novels of 400 pages or more, some fine books may miss out.

I noted with incredulity when one or two of the novels I threw over my shoulder received rave reviews or won other awards. It proves how subjective judging can be, but also that books can succeed despite rejection.

For the First Novel award, we each had to nominate three titles that were sent to the other two judges. We then met for lunch with the nine books in front of us. This is where the fun started. It felt a bit like the Wild West. Who would shoot first? Who had the better aim? I probably arrived with too much ammunition. The William Hill Sports Book dinners are notoriously feisty and I was, to a degree, using the Costa as a practice run. My fellow judges were affable and quietly spoken and must have wondered what prompted my dismissal of their favourites.

These meetings are about negotiation. You might allow a book you consider merely adequate on to the shortlist if one you think a real dud can be ousted at the same time. Because it is hard to announce a winner if one judge hates a title that the others love, the winner is often one that nobody detested but few truly adored.

The Tenderness of Wolves emerged as our winner in a slightly different way. The judge who chose it had not expected the other two judges to think it anything but pleasant and competent. But we thanked him for picking it.

Tenderness was the last of the new novels I read. I sighed as I picked it up, imagining it might be an overly emotional affair. I was tired of books by authors who had not quite learnt how to write. However, I was soon pulled into the lonely, wintry world of Canada in the 1860s.

My rule for deciding which books deserved my attention was, well, that they had to be able to hold my attention. Only two things matter in a novel; ability to write and ability to tell a story. Too many submissions were from authors who knew lots of adjectives but who simply could not induce one to turn the page. Penney could. She has a relaxed authority rare in a first-time author. She takes her time, making sure that the reader is comfortable in the surroundings before moving the plot along. That is why she also won the overall Costa Book of the Year. Tenderness is not good for a first novel; it is good in its own right.

Much to the delight of reporters who attended the awards cremony, Penney had a confession of sorts. She had written about Canada but had never been there as she has agoraphobia. She swotted up the history and geography in the British Library. If I am honest, I did wonder for an instant if I had been duped. But this was fiction and novels are about the application of imagination, after all.

William Boyd’s Restlesswas Penney’s main rival as the overall winner and word spread that he had missed out because one or two judges took a dislike to his book while everyone liked Tenderness. This was reported as a bad thing: popular book wins prize – how disappointing. No doubt there was an element of compromise but the three judges on the First Novel panel were extremely happy to put Tenderness forward after noting that it had emerged from a powerful shortlist.

If nothing else, its success should reassure readers that the plot does thicken and is satisfactorily resolved, that the twists are clever, the descriptions beautiful and, most of all, that it is worth reading to the end. Quercus £7.99, 466pp Can we take the book’s descriptions seriously when Stef Penney (below) has never visited Canada? Does it matter that it takes time to warm to the heroine? Why does the author give Mrs Ross a suspected mental illness? Is this a novel in which everyone is an outsider?

Quercus, £7.99, 466pp

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