GOOD luck to the publishers of this year’s Man Booker winner in choosing gushing quotes for the cover. You know the sort of thing: “I loved this book more than my first born ..."

It is not that Milkman, by Anna Burns, has attracted little in the way of praise or attention, it is just that most of the comments have been somewhat, shall we say, equivocal.

Take the reaction of Kwame Anthony Appiah, chair of the judging panel that included Scotland’s Val McDermid. How was the winning novel for you, Mr Appiah?

“Enormously rewarding … if you persist with it.”

O-kay. Care to try that again?

“Challenging.”

One more for luck?

“Challenging in the way a walk up Snowden is challenging but is definitely worth it because the view is terrific when you get to the top.”

Thanks love, we’ll be in touch.

In The Guardian, Claire Armitstead described Milkman, set in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, as “brain-kneading”, but thought it a good choice. “It will no doubt baffle many readers and depress a good few booksellers as an opener for the festive sales season, but it is refreshingly not a vote for the status quo at a time when many have been saying the Booker has lost its mojo since it opened up to the Americans.”

Don’t all rush at once, then, for your copy of Milkman. It is not like stocks will run out soon. As the Bookseller reported this week, the six shortlisted Man Booker titles are not selling as well as the longlisted ones. Belinda Bauer’s Snap, for example, described by McDermid as “The best crime novel I’ve read in a very long time”, is now at number eight in the Nielsen BookScan top ten chart, ahead of the latest from Penny Vincenzi and Ken Follett. Why didn’t Snap win? Shouldn’t the winner of the prize be the book that sells the most?

How terribly vulgar, I know. Such folly would break one of life’s golden rules: thou shalt not prefer pleasure over duty. If faced with a choice between a book that is easy and one that is “improving”, the sensible person should go for the latter because it will serve them better in the long term.

Such thinking is instilled in us from an early age. Eat your sprouts, they’re good for you. Do your homework, you will get better grades. Never mind that trendy parka, get a duffle coat and learn to love that Paddington nickname.

The advice doesn’t stop when adulthood comes along. Don’t go on holiday, save your money for a house deposit. Choose a university course that will get you a job. Sorted that pension yet?

We’ve all dished it out, or had it dished out to us, and no-one really minds as it comes from a good place. Anything worth having is worth the effort, right? Or as the title of a novel by Meera Syal puts it, “Life Isn’t All Ha Ha Hee Hee”. Scotland has been particularly fond of the notion that hard work and self-improvement brings its own rewards. It calls to something deep and Knoxian within our psyche.

I wonder about the wisdom of this, however. Is denying ourselves pleasure, reading that new Man Booker novel instead of dipping into Wodehouse again, really better for us? Life is short and all that. Certain virtuous choices, cutting out the fags, for instance, will help you live longer, but it is a fact that no dystopian satire set in Crouch End ever extended anyone’s life. If anything, it shaves a few years.

Legend has it (okay, my mother told me) that anyone starting work in a chocolate factory is encouraged to eat as much as they want in the first few days, the theory being that they will sicken themselves quickly and won’t spend years picking away at the stock. I have no idea if that is true. Fact checking your ma’s stories: that way madness truly does lie. But it sounds reasonable. The way to cure yourself of temptation may be to give in to it initially.

It's reverse psychology. If a little of what you fancy does you good, imagine what a lot could do. Pizza for dinner every day will soon have your body craving sprouts. Spend, spend, spend, don’t save, save, save; think of the benefits to the economy. Go out clubbing all night; the endorphins might improve your performance at work.

It will take a huge amount of effort to reverse current thinking and put society on the path to constant indulgence. Entire philosophies and religions will need to be challenged. Public policy stood on its head. The self-help, self-improvement industries driven out of business. Thousands of doctors and yoga teachers thrown on the scrapheap.

On second thoughts, that sounds too much like hard work. Pass me that bleedin' Man Booker.