When rules eclipse reason: Irony of judging a book by its publisher

Law360 Canada (October 9, 2026, 1:09 PM EDT) --

John L. Hill

For lawyers, some issues extend beyond protecting rights and freedoms. A core concern is the risk of letting a rigid rule determine an outcome before examining the matter’s substance.

Lawyers routinely encounter eligibility requirements, statutory definitions and procedural rules intended to protect fairness and integrity. Yet some rules designed to prevent abuse can produce results that have little connection to the mischief they were meant to address.

The rejection of A Fatal Affair: The Murder of Helen Grier from consideration for the Shaughnessy Cohen Prize raises precisely that question: when does a legitimate rule become so inflexible that it defeats the very purpose it was intended to serve?

There is something troubling about a literary prize that purports to recognize exceptional writing but disqualifies a book before anyone has considered whether it is exceptionally good.

A Fatal Affair, a forthcoming true-crime book co-authored by Judy Penz Sheluk and Amanda Capper, was proposed as a candidate for the Writers’ Trust of Canada’s Shaughnessy Cohen Prize for Political Writing.

It never got that far.

According to correspondence between Sheluk and the Writers’ Trust, the book was ruled ineligible because Sheluk is the sole proprietor of Superior Shores Press, the company publishing the book. The trust concluded that, for purposes of its eligibility rules, the book was self-published.

That decision may comply with the trust’s rules. The more interesting question is whether the rule itself makes sense.

The Shaughnessy Cohen Prize is described as awarding an “exceptional book of literary nonfiction that captures a political subject of relevance to Canadian readers.” Now worth $40,000, the prize is one of the most prestigious literary awards available to Canadian writers.

One would therefore expect the central question to be whether the book is an exceptional work of literary nonfiction on a subject relevant to Canadians.

Instead, in this case, the decisive consideration appears to have been who owned the publishing company. That seems an odd way to assess a book.

Sheluk was candid about the publishing arrangement. She explained that she and Capper received an Ontario Arts Council Northern Arts Grant and that one grant requirement was that the book be published by Superior Shores Press, which Sheluk owns. She also explained that Capper is not an owner or employee of the press.

The book was edited and proofread independently. A local Indigenous artist created its cover. It is to be published in print and digital editions and made available throughout Canada. None of that persuaded the trust to let the book enter the competition.

In an Oct. 2 email, Devon Jackson of the Writers’ Trust explained that because Sheluk is the sole proprietor of Superior Shores Press, a book she authored and published through that press is considered self-published “regardless of the involvement of external editors, proofreaders or other contributors.”

Jackson added that because the book is co-authored and Sheluk is both author and publisher, it does not meet the prize’s eligibility requirements. Had Capper been the sole author, Jackson said, the assessment might have been different.

That last point illustrates the problem. The words on the pages would be exactly the same. The research would be the same. The writing would be the same. The subject would be the same. The co-authors’ contributions would be the same. What would change is the identity of the person who happened to own the publishing company. That is a business distinction, not a literary one.

Literary prizes have perfectly legitimate reasons to set eligibility rules. Awards need rules. A prize may reasonably want to prevent an author from effectively nominating themself, buying a place on a list or gaining an unfair advantage over competitors.

But there is a difference between preventing an unfair advantage and treating an author’s ownership of a small publishing business as though it automatically diminishes the literary merit of the resulting book.

Indeed, independent publishing is no longer some obscure corner of the literary world. Authors publish books through small presses, cooperative presses and publishing companies in which they have varying degrees of financial or managerial involvement. Some writers have created publishing companies because traditional publishers would not take their books. Others publish specialized works that do not fit easily into the commercial publishing model.

The question should therefore be whether the arrangement compromises the integrity of the competition, not simply whether the author has a connection to the publisher.

There is an obvious difference between a vanity publication produced solely to enter a prize competition and a serious nonfiction book that happens to be published by a company owned by one of its authors.

The correspondence in this case does not suggest that the Writers’ Trust investigated the quality of A Fatal Affair and rejected it on literary grounds. Nor does it suggest that the trust concluded that the book lacked political relevance. It applied a categorical rule.

Rules can be useful. They can also produce results that the people who created them never intended.

Another reason to be cautious about overly rigid definitions of self-publishing is this: the purpose of a literary prize is not normally to reward a particular publishing model. It is to recognize writing.

If a book is poorly written, a prestigious commercial publisher will not rescue it with inadequate research. Conversely, a compelling and meticulously researched book does not become less compelling because its author owns the company that publishes it. This distinction matters especially in nonfiction.

True crime, history, biography and investigative writing often occupy territory between journalism and traditional book publishing. Authors may spend years researching a subject, conducting interviews, examining records and reconstructing events. The value of the finished work lies in what the author has produced, not necessarily in the corporate structure behind its publication.

That does not mean every self-published book should automatically qualify for every literary prize. A prize organization can establish reasonable standards. But if the concern is independence, the organization could ask whether the book was independently edited, whether the authors paid for consideration, whether the competition was manipulated or whether the author has a financial interest that creates an actual conflict. Those questions would address the competition’s integrity directly.

A blanket rule based on ownership is different. It risks turning a literary award into an award for a particular kind of publishing arrangement.

Jackson of the Writers’ Trust was provided with these criticisms by email on Oct. 5. He has not responded.

There is an irony here. Writers founded the Writers’ Trust and have spent decades supporting Canadian authors, including writers who work outside the most conventional structures of the publishing industry. Its stated purpose is to advance, nurture and celebrate Canadian writing.

That mission raises an obvious question: when a book arrives at its door, should the first question be who published it or whether it deserves to be read?

The Shaughnessy Cohen Prize is named after a Canadian parliamentarian and is intended to recognize literary nonfiction dealing with political subjects of relevance to Canadian readers. A true-crime account involving the criminal justice system can plainly raise questions about policing, prosecution, courts, evidence, punishment and the administration of justice.

Whether A Fatal Affair is good enough to win the prize is a question for judges. Whether it is worthy of consideration is also a question for judges. But those questions can only be answered if the book is allowed through the door.

Nothing is inherently wrong with eligibility rules. However, something is worth questioning when an eligibility rule means a book can be excluded without its merits ever being considered. Literary prizes should certainly protect their integrity. But integrity should not be confused with adherence to a rigid definition that has little to do with the quality of the work being judged.

If the Shaughnessy Cohen Prize is ultimately about exceptional literary nonfiction, then the most important thing about a book should be what is between its covers. Not who owns the press.

John L. Hill practised and taught prison law until his retirement. He holds a JD from Queen’s and an LLM in constitutional law from Osgoode Hall. He is also the author of Pine Box Parole: Terry Fitzsimmons and the Quest to End Solitary Confinement (Durvile & UpRoute Books). His most recent book, Acts of Darkness (Durvile & UpRoute), was shortlisted as one of five nominees for the Crime Writers of Canada’s Brass Knuckles Award for Best Nonfiction Crime Book. Contact him at johnlornehill@hotmail.com.

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