Our experiment in literary democracy has quickly shown the flaws in the system as well as the strengths. While the nomination procedure produced a varied and interesting long list and some fine advocacy for plenty of excellent-sounding books that were otherwise under-exposed, the attempt to whittle that down to a shortlist has been far more troublesome.

Firstly, no one can be reasonably be expected to pass a judgment on all the titles in the list and so they have to vote based on a certain amount of prejudice. Secondly, it's pretty easy to skew the vote, as some of the entries on this shortlist may or may not show:

Rana Dasgupta – Solo – 85 votes
James Palumbo – Tomas – 81 votes
Eleanor Thom – The Tin Kin – 79 votes
Simon Crump – Neverland – 65 votes
MJ Hyland – This Is How – 43 votes
Jenn Ashworth – Intimacy – 41 votes

(I'll include the full breakdown in the comments below. Special thanks to poster michealmack for help with the counting!).

So China Miéville didn't get through, missing out by just five crucial votes. Nor Hilary Mantel. Nor John The Revelator. Nor Brooklyn. Is that a fair reflection of quality? I'm not sure. But it's not up to me. Such is democracy.

All that doesn't mean to say that there hasn't again been plenty of passionate and sincere debate, nor that the majority of the votes haven't been entirely legitimate. But clearly there's been plenty of funny business, too. Strange patterns have emerged with books getting next to nothing for days and then sudden late flurries of votes. Sometimes these have been backed up by odd, unconvincing reviews that appear to have been pulled from the same crib sheet. It could be coincidence, but it looks fishy … One commenter derided it as a "who has more friends" competition and at times that's seemed like a charitable view.

Yet, while I've often felt like banging my head against the wall, I also have to say that these intrigues have added to the fun and interest of the competition. Certainly it's one in the eye for those who insist that democracy is the fairest way to reward literary talent. If this is the kind of thing that happens on our little reward, with what intrigues must the organisers of the Hugos have to cope?

I also feel plenty of sympathy for those writers who have encouraged mates, family and anyone else they can get their hands on to vote. I know something of the terror that comes on publication as you realise that you might as well just have dropped your book into the void. And I know how good an opportunity The Not the Booker must seem to win some love for your brainchild. It's human. And is it any worse than the usual system of getting a buddy to review your book in the broadsheets?

The conspiracy theories that have been emerging too, have been intriguing and enjoyable. While Rana Dasgupta's Solo has quietly slipped under the comment police's radar, the large number of votes for James Palumbo's Tomas seem to have annoyed many of you. It's been all too easy to slip into dark mutterings about this powerful, rich man – the mention of whose name still turns old Eton school-fellows white with fear according to a recent article in The Independent.

Personally, I don't buy into the idea that anything more sinister has happened here than an enthusiastic attempt by Palumbo and his publisher to encourage people to vote for them. As the slick design of the book, the effective posters around London and this rather swish internet site have shown, they know how to market.

Meanwhile, the other book that seems to have aroused the most suspicions – Simon Crump's Neverland – provides a neat counter to those deriding the "Palumbists". Here's a quiet guy from Sheffield, who is neither rich nor famous and whose publisher has a grand total of three people on the staff. The most sinister thing that I can imagine happening there is that Crumb's publisher may have taken a few people down to the pub and pressed on them the urgency of voting.

What's more, I've read Neverland, and I know it's good. I've also read and loved other Crump books and I understand why he might have won such enthusiastic support. The same could easily be true of Tomas. There's every chance that the book may be as mind-blowing as its supporters claim. Stephen Fry – amongst others – has praised it and he isn't a man who has to endorse anything unless he really feels it's worthwhile.

And if it isn't any good? Well, that's where the strength of this kind of award shows itself once more. These six books are up for judgement now and you can have a huge effect on how that judgement goes. Over the next few weeks I'm going to be reading all of them and I hope you'll be able to join me. If any of the books are indeed stinkers – and you all say as much - there will be nothing but embarrassment in store for those that have thrust them onto this list. If they are good I guess we will – perhaps – have some of our faith in human nature restored.

Vitally, if you don't read, contribute and vote you can't really complain if the competition doesn't go the way you want it to. If you do, you can help shape it for the better.

First of all, I'll be reading Jenn Ashworth's A Kind Of Intimacy. It's not too long and widely available, so I hope you'll be able to read it with me. I'll post later this week. After that I'll tackle Crump and so on in alphabetical order by author.

In the meantime, I'll welcome all comments on the shortlist, suggestions on how to avoid peculiar voting patterns in future and anything else you have on your mind below.