The first thing to say about last night's Folio Prize was that it was a fantastic tribute to the power of literature. It was affirmation that there are a lot of people out there who care greatly about the power of words and real, quality fiction. The award went to one of the best living writers in the English language and it's staked out serious territory as one of the most serious and important events in the literary calendar.

The second thing to say is *sob!*

But while we're very disappointed for Eimear, and would have loved her to win, the sadness is tempered by the knowledge that A Girl is a Half-formed Thing already has enough oil in the tank to bust through to eternity. It's landed. People won't forget it for a long time to come. It's already received great awards and praise. It's still in contention for more. This week also brought the news that Eimear is on the list for the Bailey's Women's Prize For Fiction, for instance.

And, of course, there's the fact that it was just wonderful that the book made it onto such a superb shortlist. Is there a writer out there who wouldn't just love a chance to get in the ring with George Saunders? The Folio has brought great things to us and to Eimear and we'll look back on it as a glorious experience. An experience made especially dreamy by a very lovely ceremony in St Pancras hotel, in sight of the old Booking Office, under giant cast-iron lions vomming cast-iron water into giant internal drainpipes, with bottomless glasses of wine and endless supplies of those little bite-size-burgers you always get at posh parties. They laid on a good show, in other words, More importantly, they talked the good talk. I wish I could tell you more about the speech from the chair of judges Lavinia Greenlaw. Hopefully someone who was feeling less nervous than me took a few notes, but what I can say is that it was an eloquent tribute to the way good books can pull you in and make you see through other eyes… A sentiment echoed by George Saunders, who said: "Fiction is about softening the borders between myself and other people." His speech was generous, warm, touching, and again, all about the books. Especially noble, since if I were in his shoes, the thoughts running through my head would almost certainly have been, "Awlright! £40 goddam grand!"

Anyway, here's to the institution of a prize that really matters. Here's to George Saunders, a gracious, worthy winner. And here's to Eimear and her continuing journey to greatness.

UPDATE!

Here are those excellent speeches.