Numerous countries have their poet laureate. But a fiction laureate? The Arts Council of Ireland set a brave precedent last year when it invited nominations for the first ever post of this kind. And now, 10 weeks after the decision had been reached (a long time to keep a secret in Dublin), Anne Enright has been announced as laureate.

The 119 nominations were made from bookshops, libraries, arts organisations, book clubs and individual writers, with a total of 34 potential candidates. Many familiar names, young and old, were among them, including John Banville, William Trevor, Edna O’Brien, Emma Donoghue, Roddy Doyle, Sebastian Barry and Eimear McBride. The role will be a highly active one and not all the nominees felt able to be considered; Colm Tóibín withdrew because his past involvement with the Arts Council was, he felt, a conflict of interest. The shortening of the shortlist made things slightly easier for the panel of judges (three from Ireland, three of us from elsewhere). We were, at any rate, unanimous. As our chair, Paul Muldoon, put it, Anne Enright’s fiction has helped the Irish make sense of their lives for the past quarter century – and helped the rest of the world understand Ireland.

The international dimension of the post is important. For the next three years, Enright will teach creative writing to students at New York University as well at University College Dublin. She’ll also participate in a number of public events and promotions, carrying the torch for literary fiction while also somehow finding time to write her own. To be the public face of Irish fiction requires passion, energy and diplomatic acumen. The €50,000 annual stipend will be hard earned.

Ireland has long been known, and envied, for its public subsidy of the arts, literature in particular. It would be good to see our own Arts Council follow suit. Think of all word-Smiths (from Ali to Zadie) who are already acting as ambassadors for fiction, through their readings, lectures and essays. We have a children’s laureate and poet laureate; time to create one for fiction, too.