Politics, Poetry and Reviews

Tag: hugo awards 2018 (Page 4 of 6)

Hugo reading 2018: All Systems Red, by Martha Wells

I had heard good things about All Systems Red by Martha Wells, and rightly so.  This novella was an utter delight.  It is told in the first person from the perspective of Murderbot, a Security Robot on a planetary survey mission.

Murderbot doesn’t like its job, and doesn’t like people, and really would rather spend its time watching soap operas through its satellite feed.  It has hacked its governor module, so it doesn’t actually have to obey any of its commands, but it does need to obey enough of them that it isn’t obvious that it has been hacked, otherwise someone will try to fix it.  So it’s basically half-assing its job, doing as little as it can get away with, and not paying attention to anything that might not be immediately relevant because why bother.  The humans it is contracted to are disposed to be friendly, but Murderbot is not.  It prefers to remain in armour, with its helmet darkened so that nobody can see its face.  It doesn’t want to talk to you.  It doesn’t want to be your friend.  It just wants you to leave it alone.

I adored Murderbot’s character.  It isn’t depressed, or angry, or sad, it’s just disgruntled and antisocial, and has no interest in pretending otherwise.  There are days when I would love to be that character. Of course, it does feel that its particular humans are not too bad, as humans go, and is not impressed when it seems that someone is trying to kill them, but it does not want to bond with them or be part of their team or accept favours or help from them.  It does, over time, begin to like some of its humans, in a standoffish sort of way, but resents having to waste emotion on actual people.  It would rather save this for fictional characters.  Did I mention that I love Murderbot and want to be Murderbot when I grow up?

The story itself is well-plotted, and – hallelujah! – has a beginning, a middle, and an end.  There is certainly room for a sequel, but you can also stop at the end of the book having read a satisfying story.  The other characters are well-drawn, and very nearly as annoyingly nice as Murderbot thinks they are, which is a pleasant change.

I really enjoyed this book (hmm, and apparently, sentient robots are a thing this year…).

I think And then there were (N-one) is still my top pick for this section, though it’s a close thing, followed by All Systems Red and Down Among the Sticks and Bones.  After that, The Black Tides of Heaven, which I would like to put higher, but the ending really frustrated me.  I don’t know what to do about the last two.  I think Binti: Home is *part* of a better book than River of Teeth, but to my mind it remains just that – part of a book, and not a story in its own right.  I’m almost tempted to put it below No Award, not because it isn’t good, but because I don’t think it’s a novella, in the sense of being a self-contained narrative.  I’ll have to think more about this.

Hugo reading 2018: Binti: Home, by Nnedi Okorafor

I read Binti, by Nnedi Okorafor a couple of years back, when it was nominated for best novella, and I liked it.  I was under the impression that there had been a novel between that and Binti: Home, which is this year’s nomination but it turns out that this is the second novella in the series.

Once again, the worldbuilding is very rich, and I enjoyed the character of Binti.  This book was somewhat painful to read, as Binti returns (temporarily) to the family she left in order to go to Oomza University, and the dynamics are… tense, to say the least.  She also brings her Meduse friend, Okwu, with her, and this nearly leads to disaster the moment they reach earth.  Binti’s intention is to go on pilgrimage (and I would have loved to know more about that), but instead, she winds up taking a different journey.  There is some interesting exploration of cultural hierarchies, here.  While Binti’s people are viewed as primitive by the Khoush, they in turn look down on the Desert People, who of course turn out to be more than they seem (and not ‘mystical primitives’. either).

All of this is great until Binti gets word of a catastrophe, which means she must return at once, and then you turn the page and the book stops, and you *don’t* scream rude things because you don’t want to wake your husband, but really, why do people keep nominating portions of books for the Hugos?  Once again, I’m at a bit of a loss of how to judge this.  If I were judging it as a chapter or extract from a book, it would get very high marks and make me want to read the book.  But as a story in itself, I think it fails.  It has, if anything, even less resolution than The Black Tides of Heaven, and also less of a beginning, though that bothered me less – I think it stands alone at the front end, if one doesn’t mind being dropped into a world and needing to figure some things out, which I believe is a requirement for enjoying a lot of science fiction!

So yeah.  I don’t think  I can put this or Tides at the top of my ballot, even though they are both excellent at what they are doing, because what they are doing is not writing a novella.  But equally, I feel like they deserve a higher ranking than River of Teeth, which is a complete story, but which did not leave me with any particular desire to read the sequel (which, yes, clearly exists, and the story clearly ends at a point where you would like one – but it has the courtesy to finish the first story first.)  And I don’t know where to put them in relation to Sticks and Bones, which I did like and which is complete, but which I suspect isn’t quite as good, objectively.

Ah well.  I’ve been saving the Murderbot book until last, and I have high hopes for it… though since it has never previously occurred to me to ask whether books have proper endings or not, I’ve not scanned the reviews for it with that in mind.  Here’s hoping I won’t be unpleasantly surprised on that front…

Hugo reading 2018: The Black Tides of Heaven, by JY Yang

The Black Tides of Heaven, by JY Yang, is a difficult book to describe.  The worldbuilding is very… dense, is probably the right word.  It feels like it goes all the way down, from magic, to politics, to religion and philosophy, to conceptions of gender, to things that don’t even appear in the narrative but one senses are there (for example, days and nights are clearly measured differently, but it isn’t clear how in this book – Yang’s website mentions in passing that the sun rises and sets six times a day, which explains a lot, and it’s clear that Yang has a really, really thorough and specific idea of how everything in this world works, not all of which makes it into the text).

The setting is ‘silkpunk’ – which is to say, it has a medieval Asian feel (I want to say alt-Japanese, based on the names and the religion, but I’m really not knowledgeable enough about asian cultures to be sure, and it feels like it borrows from a few different cultures anyway), with magic, and technology.  The protagonist, Sanao Akeha, is one of a pair of twins born to the Protector, the ruthless ruler of the lands in which the story takes place, and given to the Grand Monastery as payment of a debt.  Their twin, Sanao Mokoya, is a prophet, and once this becomes evident, both twins are returned to the Protector, who has a use for prophecy.  (Mokoya is the protagonist of the twin novella, The Red Threads of Fortune, which takes place during and after this story, and which I have not read.)

In this world, children are born with no gender, and choose, when they are ready, which gender they will be, taking the drugs to confirm this gender (a small number of people never make a choice and continue in the body they were born with).  Sanao eventually chooses to be he (and Mokoya to be she), so I’ll use those genders from here.  (Also, wow, I feel like non-binary genders are almost a mini-theme in this year’s Hugos.  I’ve seen more characters who prefer ‘they’ just in the last few weeks than in my entire life to date. It works, both here and elsewhere, but it’s definitely a thing this year.  I understand that Yang is non-binary, which probably influenced their choice in this instance.)

Yes, but what is this story about?  Well, here’s where it gets a little bit strange, at least for me.  *I* thought the story was about the politics – the Protectorate versus the Monastery, the slackcraft-using ‘Tensors’ versus the ‘Machinists’, who work to create technologies that everyone can use without help from slackcrafters.  The relationships are central, certainly, but there are, at various points, out and out rebellions going on in which Akeha (and to a lesser extent, Mokoya) are involved.

But… the climactic point at the book does not resolve any of this.  It resolves the relationships – leading me to suspect that these were, in fact, intended to be the focus of the book – but leaves the question of what is going to happen to the Machinist rebels very much unanswered, and unanswered in a situation where there is apparently unlimited political power on one side, and something that looks a lot like a nuclear bomb on the other side (and I’m not *entirely* certain that this technology is not now known to both sides).

Perhaps the twin novel resolves some of this?

So I don’t quite know what to say about this novel.  It feels brilliant, but unfinished, and perhaps this is because my priorities were not those of the author.  I feel as though I can’t judge it without reading the other novel, and I’m sort of reluctant to do that because I feel that a winning novella ought to be able to stand alone as a book.  And maybe it’s just that I’ve completely failed to get the point of the book?

(Or maybe I’m just a bit dim-witted – I feel as though there are several books this year which have had ambiguous or unfinished sort of endings, and I’m not sure if this is a trend or a sign that my reading comprehension is lacking…)

I don’t know where to put this on my ballot.  I’ll have to think about it a bit more.

Hugo reading 2018: Wind Will Rove, by Sarah Pinsker

I saved “Wind Will Rove” by Sarah Pinsker for last, because I enjoyed her novella so much. I’m… not quite sure what I thought of this one. It is set on a generation ship on its way to a new planet, and the protagonist, a history teacher and a fiddle player, was born on the ship and will die there. Her grandmother was one of the original colonists, who boarded the ship with her nine-year-old daughter, the protagonist’s mother. The generation ship originally had extensive archives of all the greatest art, literature, music and other cultural artefacts of the Earth, but about ten years into the voyage, the archives were destroyed by sabotage. As a result, the travellers have created a series of ‘memory Projects’, whereby they recreated and re-recorded everything they could, based on their memories, but also continue to memorise specific pieces and pass these down through family lines, in case of another loss of the archives.

This is a lot of background, but that’s because the story is almost more a slice of life than anything else. The protagonist teaches Year 10 history, and is faced with students who want to know why Earth history should even be considered relevant to them, since they will never see Earth or indeed anywhere but this ship, and are unlikely to face any problems of historical significance in their lifetime. Her grandmother was one of the founders of the music Memory Project, but her mother felt that the old art was irrelevant and left to join a commune making new art, and her daughter, too, rebelled, performing new music that was never to be recorded.

The story, then, seems to be about the significance of art, of creativity, of history and of memory – of the relative importance of retaining the best of one’s old culture (and who exactly judges what this is?) versus creating new cultural artefacts, when there is not, realistically, the space to do both. These are questions that are addressed and explored but not really answered, perhaps because they cannot be answered.

I liked this story, and the characterisation of it, but for me, the most compelling image was of all these generations of people whose lives are constrained by their ancestors’ choices. They did not choose to be born and die on a ship, after all, or to spend their lives preserving and learning skills which will be used only by their great-grandchildren. To an extent, I suppose, all our lives are constrained by those of our ancestors, but not to this degree.

I don’t know. It’s a story about music and about history and about creativity, and I feel like I really should have liked it more than I did. I have a feeling it’s going to win its category, but I don’t quite want it to.

I think my ballot will be “Children of Thorns”, “A Series of Steaks”, “Extracurricular Activities”, “Wind Will Rove”, “Small Changes Over Long Periods” and “The Secret Life of Bots”, but to be honest, the top four could easily all switch around – I’d be happy to see any of them as winners.

Hugo reading 2018: Children of Thorns, Children of Water, by Aliette de Bordard

I wasn’t expecting great things from Aliette de Bodard’s “Children of Thorns, Children of Water“.  I read one of her novellas for the Campbells last year, and it struck me as very technically pretty but a little empty.  But I was pleasantly surprised by this story.  It’s a sequel to The House of Shattered Wings, about which I have heard the sort of good things that make me suspect that it is excellent but not a book I will enjoy, but it stands alone very well.

In this story, Thuan and his compatriot Kim Cuc are spies disguised as houseless people, who are trying to win a place in Hawthorn House. They are teamed up with Leila, a true houseless person for their test, which turns out to be about baking something impressive in under an hour.  I was totally here for this.  In fact, I was so here for this that I was deeply, deeply disappointed when the test was interrupted by the inevitable plot-driving emergency, because I *cared* about those eclairs, damn it, and I wanted to know if they were going to get them done in time, and if they would taste good.

Also, now I want to make eclairs.

(Any time you want me to like a story, put baking in it.  Works like a charm.)

However, once I got over my disappointment, I really enjoyed this story.  I was a little confused by the magical system, but I liked the shape of it, and I liked the way the House worked.  I especially liked the character of Sare.  The ending was not at all unexpected – but that was fine, because sometimes the story has to arc in a particular way, and any other ending wouldn’t have fit.

This has actually made me want to go back and read de Bodard’s two novels in this series, so I think it’s pretty good.  Of course, Andrew pointed out to me a few years ago that, without exception, any book I recommend to him as being really really good and something he absolutely must read is full of people baking things, so I can be almost certain that the eclairs strongly influenced my feelings about this story.  But it’s currently fighting for first place on my list with “A Series of Steaks” (which, I now can’t help noting, is also about food… hmm…), with “Extracurricular Activities” trying to nudge it’s way into the winner’s circle.

Hugo reading 2018: Small Changes Over Long Periods Of Time, by K.M. Szpara

Small Changes Over Long Periods of Time” by K.M. Szpara is, at first glance, a sexy vampire story, and not really my thing. What makes it interesting is that the protagonist is a gay trans man who is on hormones and has had at least some surgery (top surgery, definitely – I’m not entirely sure what bottom surgery entails, but I think the implication is that he hasn’t got that far), and when he gets bitten, the restorative / regenerative effects of becoming a vampire start restoring him to the female body he was born with. Szpara is, I understand, a trans man himself, and he does a good job of writing this as the horror it is.

He also has to contend with the laws around vampire recruitment and vampirism. He is bitten by a vampire acting outside the law, but the penalties for becoming a vampire without filling out the proper applications (and the protagonist would never have been able to apply even if he wanted to, because trans people are one of several classes of people banned from becoming vampires) seem to fall upon both the person who turned the new vampire, and the new vampire him or herself. Szpara does some interesting things here; although the protagonist was turned mostly involuntarily (he would have died otherwise), the changes and effects are viewed as something he has chosen, and thus his problem to deal with, in a similar way to the way being gay or trans is often seen as being a choice.

I honestly find it hard to judge this story. The trans bits (is body horror the word I’m looking for?) were interesting and well-written, but I really have a strong dislike of the sexy vampire trope – it’s very, very rare for a book to manage to use this trope in a way that I don’t find thoroughly off-putting. I think, too, this story troubled me because it was using some romance tropes without being a romance – and from a romance reader’s perspective, I felt that the allegedly sexy older vampire was a bit alpha-hole-ish and not great on the whole consent thing, which is never comfortable to read (to be clear, with the exception of the initial biting attack, the later sex scenes were… not overtly, exactly, but I kind of felt like he was taking advantage of someone who was under the influence on several occasions.)

To make matters worse, the sexy older vampire shares a name with someone I work with and while I can usually ignore characters sharing names with people I know, for some reason I couldn’t this time and that added a whole extra level of squick to the situation.

This goes above The Secret Life of Bots for me, but not above anything else at this stage.

Hugo reading 2018: Down Among the Sticks and Bones, by Seanan McGuire

Down Among the Sticks and Bones by Seanan McGuire is essentially a prequel to Every Heart a Doorway. It tells the story of Jack and Jill and why they went through their door, and what happened when they did.  Their world had vampires and werewolves and mad scientists, and definitely falls into a horror sort of genre – it’s a fairy tale, and told like one, but it’s a dark one.

I actually bought and read this when it was first published, and wasn’t especially taken with it.  I enjoyed it more on this reading, partly, perhaps, because it was a nice change from all the science fiction.  McGuire does some interesting things with family, and gender, and how we are shaped by the roles we are put into (and what happens when we are given a chance at a different role).

One thing that I found kept grabbing my attention when reading this book (on both occasions) was the way Jack and Jill presented.  They are identical twin girls, and we meet them in Doorway, Jack dresses in a very masculine style, and has male mannerisms.  He is also the scientist of the group.  Jill, on the other hand, is a very girly-girl, and while she clearly has plenty of brains, she tends to pretend she isn’t using them. But at the start of the book, it’s little Jillian who is the bold, curious twin who gets pushed into the tomboy role and plays soccer and runs around, while the more timid, quiet Jacqueline is the ‘pretty’ twin, who wears beautiful dresses that she isn’t allowed to get dirty, and plays with dolls.  It’s clear that, once through the doorway, each child takes the opportunity to be someone different, but having seen them in such strongly gendered roles in Doorway, I kept getting confused and having to remind myself which was which in Sticks and Bones.  This is probably mostly a reflection on how I view gender…

I enjoy McGuire’s writing, and the way she convincingly relates the fantastical to the mundane.  For example, here is the vampire seducing Jill:

He is not so different from the boys she had been dreading meeting when she started her high school career. Like them, he wants her for her body. Like them, he is bigger than her, stronger than her, more powerful than her in a thousand ways. But unlike them, he tells her no lies, puts no veils before his intentions; he is hungry, and she is meat for his table, she is wine for his cup.

Creepy as hell, and not just because he is a vampire.

I don’t quite know how to write usefully about this novella.  I don’t think it’s McGuire’s most successful work, but I do think it’s good.  I don’t think it’s quite up there with the brilliance of And Then There Were (N-One), but I definitely rank it above the hippos.  We’ll have to see what else is in this category.

(Oh, and one last thing: you don’t need to have read Every Heart a Doorway to enjoy the Down Among the Sticks and Bones, but I think if you read Sticks and Bones first, then certain things in Doorway are going to be… fairly unsurprising.  In other words, read this one second.)

Hugo reading 2018: Extracurricular Activities, by Yoon Ha Lee

Extracurricular Activities” by Yoon Ha Lee is set in the same universe as Ninefox Gambit, which I haven’t read since last year, and so it took me a little while to realise that, oh, wait, THAT’s who the protagonist is. THAT being a young Shuos Jedao, years before his atrocities, and thus many, many years before his consciousness decanted into the brain of Kel Cheris at the start of Ninefox Gambit. So that was a double take.

This story is basically a spy story caper, in space. It contains many of my favourite tropes – I love characters who seem to be utter dilletantes or wastrels on the surface who turn out to be super competent, and we had some of that; I adored Jedao’s mother, who is even more formidable than he is, in her own particular way; and Jedao himself was a delight, and very nearly as brilliant as he thinks he is. I enjoyed the humour in the mis-translations when he is trying to infiltrate the Gwa Reality (and what IS the problem with his haircut?), and I liked the interactions between characters. (Also, just randomly, genderqueer characters seem to be a thing this Hugo year. The puppies must be feeling very sad indeed by now.)

In fact, I enjoyed everything about this story except… the story itself, really. I did not want that ending. I especially did not want that ending in that universe, given the prevalence of torture everywhere.

I’m not sure quite how to rate this one. Up until I realised where the story had to go, I liked it most of all the novelettes so far – but I don’t think the story was flawed in and of itself. Just… not the story I wanted. Which is probably unfair, because Yoon Ha Lee is always going to write well, but he is definitely NEVER going to be writing the sort of stories that make me happy – he likes to raise the stakes too much.

Hugo reading 2018: The Secret Life of Bots, by Suzanne Palmer

The Secret Life of Bots” by Suzanne Palmer was perfectly fine, but appealed to me less. The viewpoint character is Bot 9, an elderly robot, which is woken up to perform maintenance on an equally old ship headed to a perilous destination. The ship, it seems, is the very last ship left, being sent in a last-ditch attempt to save Earth from invasion.

The ship is captained by humans, but by and large run by bots, and the bots are the main characters in this book. The Bots are numbered in order of construction, and most of the bots on this ship are in the 8000s and above, and highly specialised, where Bot 9 is a multibot, capable of a variety of tasks. Bot 9 also has an Improvisation Routine, not included in later robots, because it made them unpredictable. The newer robots tend to view Bot 9 with a combination of respect and pity, and part of the story could be said to be about Bot 9 finding its place among the robot crew.

Altogether, this is a perfectly good robots-in-space sort of story. It presents a problem and solves it with the tasks to hand, and the robot characters are quite interesting. I like their ‘botnet’, which seems to be IM for robots, which allows them to share information – far more than the human crew might realise or desire – and make decisions based on that information.

I can’t quite say why this one isn’t my cup of tea. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with it, but I don’t love it. It’s probably going to sit in the middle of my ballot, unless everything on the list turns out to be brilliant.

Hugo reading 2018: Best Fan Writer category

I’ll be doing this whole category in one sweep, so settle in, because this might take a while.
Mike Glyer has provided a series of links to representative work on File 770 (usually he provides a mini fanzine, but this year he has caring responsibilities that made this difficult).

The first three are in the realm of SF politics.  “Axanar Lawsuit Settled” is a straightforward report of the settlement between Axanar, creators of a fan-made Star Trek Film, and Paramount and CBS, the producers of Star Trek itself.  It seems that Paramount and CBS decided to let Axanar keep showing their film, provided they made no profit from it.  We then have “Jon Del Arroz Off BayCon 2017 Program, Claims Decision Is Politically Motivated”, in which he presents Jon Del Arroz’s statement, alongside BayCon saying “well, actually, we just wanted to have different speakers some years, rather than having the same speakers every year, so we declined to invite a bunch of our regulars, and in fact we’ve already invited Del Arroz back for next year, though we’re kind of reconsidering that now.”  It seems to be a reasonably even-handed story, quoting each party substantially and in context, with a small amount of commentary, but the comments go ballistic because anything with US politics in it tends to do that now.  The final piece is “Saying No”, which I’d describe as being Puppy-Adjacent, and in part addresses those comments.

There is a fun article called “Oscar Gaffe Brings Back Memories of SF Award Blunders” which reminisces about various times when the wrong names were read out at the Hugos and the Nebulas (the one about Gene Wolfe is particularly wrenching).

We then have obituaries for Peter Weston, Ed Bryant and Milt Stevens, none of whom I knew, but they are again well-written pieces.

“Pixel Scroll 12/31/17 Another Scroll Over, a Pixel Just Begun” is an end of year round-up of interesting articles which are mostly other people’s end of year round-ups.  Recursive!

Basically, I’d characterise Glyer’s work as good, straightforward journalism.  It doesn’t set my world on fire, but he’s very reliable and I tend to think of him as my trusted source of fandom news.  He’s certainly worthy of being on the ballot, but it will be interesting to see what the other writers in this category are like.

Next up is Bogi Takács, who has provided six essays to review.

“The Mutant’s Apprentice: Superhero registration tropes, power fantasies and Western-centrism”  talks about why superheroes and magic users tend to be subject to compulsory registration or guild memberships.  Takács’ thesis is that this was intended to be a way of talking about racism and anti-semitism without having to do so directly (or in ways that censorship boards would object to) – but that this became subverted in the minds of (white, male) fans as being about people being oppressed because they were exceptional, just as many fans of comics view themselves as oppressed by the mainstream… thus leading to the opposite effect to that intended by the artists.  It’s a depressing thesis, but Takács writes about it convincingly.

“[Novel review] A Jewish State in Germany? Judenstaat, Or Historical Speculation in the VHS Era” is a review of a novel by Simone Zelitch in which after World War Two, a Jewish state was established in Saxony.  It sounds bizarre and fascinating, actually – the novel is apparently very much steeped in Jewish culture, and also knows its Eastern European / life under the Communist Regime tropes, with Chasidic Jews living in Soviet-style apartment complexes and the tension around the fact that many Communists were secular Jews.  (Takács is Hungarian, and expresses appreciation of the fact that Zelitch got so much right, which is unusual for novels by Americans set behind the old iron curtain).

“[Novella review] The Kid from Hell by Arkady & Boris Strugatsky (multiple translators)” was apparently such an effective and moving anti-war book that it was banned in Hungary, its country of origin, for many years, and could in fact be read in translation in English well before it could be read in Hungarian. It is set in a ‘utopian’ far future where Communism has triumphed and is trying to ‘progress’ new cultures to make them happier.  As the authors of this were Jewish (a community which the Communists also tried to progress), the ambiguous nature of this help is made clear.  It sounds like an unpleasant book – the viewpoint character is a deliberately horrible person – but I’m fascinated at this window into works written in Communist Hungary.

“[Novelette review] Alone, on the Wind by Karla Schmidt (translated from the German by Lara Harmon), Clarkesworld #88, August 2016.” is a brief, fairly negative review of a book that it well-written and well-translated but has some fairly problematic tropes.

The last two pieces, “[Short story collection review] So You Want to be a Robot – 21 Stories by A. Merc Rustad” and “[Comics review] Mirror: The Mountain by Emma Ríos & Hwei Lim. Image Comics, 2016”, were perfectly good pieces of writing but didn’t do so much for me – perhaps because they are more standard, straightforward reviews, and so there is less of a point of difference here between Takács’ writing and the writing of other reviewers.

Overall, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed reading Takács’ work.  Having grown up towards the end of the Iron Curtain era, I’m fascinated by these sorts of internal glimpses of what was behind it – the cultural history, if you like.  It’s not a perspective you get a lot of in SF written in English, and I’m very glad to have it.  Takács definitely winning so far for me.

Next, we have Sarah Gailey, who has provided three articles.

Facing Facts: American Identity is Based on Alternate History” is a very compelling piece pointing out that the history we tend to learn in schools is already alternate history – it’s a history where everything was fine, where wars were only fought for good reasons, where exploring the world was about discovery and bringing civilisation, not about greed or gold, where slavery didn’t exist, or where it did, slaves were treated well, where racism was solved in the 1960s.  It’s a provocative point of view, and one that will stay with me.

It’s also a strangely frustrating view, in the light of her own alternate history fiction – because while she certainly had a diverse cast in her story, she didn’t seem to me to be doing a lot with her alternate history setting.  I realise that this is harder to do in a novella format, and particularly if what you want to write is a light-hearted caper, but given how creatively she thinks about history and alternate history when writing an essay, I can’t help feeling a bit sad that she wasn’t more creative when writing a story set in an alternate America.

Next, we get an essay from Uncanny magazine – ‘City of Villains: Why I Don’t Trust Batman‘.  This is a lot of fun.  It’s about living in Gotham city if you are just a regular, poor person, who grew up in an orphanage after your dad got killed by a supervillain and your mum ran off to become a supervillain.  The trouble is, the kind of jobs you get if you have a limited education and money tend to be pretty basic – building, painting, a bit of security.  And if your boss happens to turn out to be a supervillain, guess who suffers the consequences?  The story does a nice job of interrogating the Lone Vigilante Hero trope – as well as the Beneficent Billionaire trope.  It’s nice that the billionaire funds orphanages, but why does Gotham City need so many? It’s nice that the vigilante hero fights crime, but how is it fair that he can do so outside the law, and with no regard for bystanders?  Might there not be better ways to ‘save’ the city, if one doesn’t have to be seen as the hero at all times?

I’m sure there are holes in this argument.  I’m sure that Andrew will come here and pick them.  But as someone who isn’t all that invested in the Batman mythos, I found this a delightful deconstruction of the idea.

The third article provided by Gailey is “This Future Looks Familiar: Watching Blade Runner in 2017“.  I have not seen Blade Runner.  I don’t know what it is supposed to be about.  Gailey hasn’t seen it before either, and is a bit horrified by the familiarity of what she is viewing – boiled down to sheer plot, we have a man who takes the job of tracking down and killing escaped slaves.  There is one slave he doesn’t kill – he keeps her for his own, instead.  And – at least to Gailey’s viewing, the protagonist is the character we are meant to feel sympathy with.  We are meant to see him as a good man making difficult choices, and the slaves as not fully human.

Not having seen Blade Runner, I have no way of knowing what the intent of the directors and writers was.  But reading the synopsis… yeah.  That does seem to be what it’s about.  The replicants are AIs, not human, but it does still seem to have some really disturbing parallels to the sort of racism and police brutality that has been getting so much news coverage in the last few years.  And I can certainly see being unable to see anything *else* in the movie once one has seen that.

Gailey is definitely a worthy nomination for this Hugo.  At present, I’m having a hard time choosing between her and Takács for best writer, because while I love Gailey’s work so far, her worldview is more familiar to me and similar to other things I read – Takács has perspectives I don’t encounter often.

Moving on to Charles Payseur, we get five articles to read.

“Mapping Smutty SFF – Part 1: Getting Started” is about writing fun SFF with queer characters, and the difficulty of genre and market boundaries, where ‘serious’ SFF is willing to have ‘sex, but not erotica’, and queer sex or relationships tends to get automatically branded erotica.  And also about being someone who tends to fall between the SFF and the Romance / Erotica categories with his writing, with a side dose of sheer irritation at people who turn up their nose at romance/erotica on principle without having read any of it.  It’s a little rambling, but an enjoyable article with a few bits of practical advice and suggestions about publishers for this sort of work.
“MAPPING SHORT SF/F: Part 2: Fun Short SFF” is about finding SFF that is fun, which Payseur defines as inspiring joy in the reader.  And the way ‘fun’ is often undervalued in SFF, because of a desire to be considered a serious genre (and is thus easier to find in YA SFF, perhaps because fun is also associated with being childlike).  And then he helpfully lists a lot of places where you can find fun fiction, with examples.  I think this review would be a lot more use to me if I wasn’t in the middle of my massive Hugo Reading Project, but I might keep it for later, since fun, escapist fiction is generally what I”m in the market for.
“Year of Garak, part 10: “When It Rains…” “Tacking Into the Wind” “Extreme Measures” “The Dogs of War” & “What You Leave Behind” is part of a series where Payseur has been following Garak through Star Trek.  I skimmed this one, because I think one does need to care significantly more about Star Trek than I do (i.e., to have seen more than two episodes ever) to get much out of it.

“LIVER BEWARE! You’re in for a Drunk Review of Goosebumps #12: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR”.  What it says on the box.  It’s a review of what turns out to be a really terribly bad Goosebumps books, which Payseur hates quite thoroughly.  I’m enjoying his writing style while drunk and infuriated, but that’s about it.

For a contrast, “PRIDE 2017 GUEST REVIEW: THE ART OF STARVING BY SAM J. MILLER” is a sober, thoughtful review for a book that Payseur likes very much.  Again, it’s a good, well-written review, but I must admit, I’m reaching my limits for reading reviews of books I haven’t read.  I really want to finish this category today, because it will be a pig to read on my Kobo (too many PDFs – I’m home from work with horrible cramps, so now’s the time to read things on my computer), but I’m hoping very much that the other two writers aren’t too review heavy!

Overall, I enjoyed Payseur, and am ranking him about equal with Mike Glyer.  Which means I have two ties in my lineup, and that’s going to be great when I go to vote, but I’ll deal with that then!

Camestros Felapton provided a kind of anthology of bits and pieces from his blog, which initially made me groan at its length, but I was so very wrong.  This was great fun, and turned out to be exactly what I needed to read today.

There was a really fun and spoilerific review of The Last Jedi, which I have not seen yet, but I love spoilerific reviews of things I haven’t seen, so that was fine, which particularly looked at how it plays with and subverts tropes from earlier films.  He made the interesting and quite plausible argument that once one sets aside the purely political criticisms, many of those that remain in fact spring from people who hated the prequels but nonetheless internalised them in particular ways that have shaped their expectations.

Other reviews in the area of science fiction were a discussion of whether Hidden Figures can be counted as science fiction (it’s about science, it isn’t a documentary, it’s fictionalised…), and an article about the ways in which he thinks the new Star Trek just doesn’t work (mostly because it can’t quite decide what it’s trying to do.).  Another article was a little piece of research about Henry Still, who was nominated for a Hugo in 1956  alongside Ellison, Silverberg and Herbert in the category of upcoming writers, and then disappeared off the radar.  He tries to discover what happened to him and may well have succeeded.

Ask a Triceratops had several columns about writing.  I especially enjoyed the article about use of the first, second and third person, followed by a description of fourth person in its many variants. This is apparently the preferred triceratops style, and consists of the perspective of somebody discussing events indirectly.  I liked the playfulness of it, with grammar and literary tropes being the toys of choice. I also enjoyed the discussion of Triceratopian sub-genres and literary tropes, which mostly involve drunken T-rexes climbing trees.

Timothy the Cat has a few pieces.  There is a review of La La Land which is a dialogue between Camestros and Timothy.  Timothy thinks that he is going to see a Star Wars film, and takes a while to be disabused of this notion.  Having found that it is not, he decides that, fine then, it’s really just like Inception.  He seems to mostly find this in order to annoy Camestros.  This made for a highly entertaining and surprisingly insightful review, which also managed to include the main critiques I’ve heard of the film. Nice work.  Timothy also goes to WorldCon, which turns out to be the vet.  This is also funny and sarcastic and endearing.

There were several nice creative pieces.  I adored the review of Great Britain (“While the deeply amoral but wonderfully costumed historical series of “Great Britain” won huge ratings in the past, critics have claimed that this was “largely due to a hugely powerful navy forcing us to watch”.), and the piece on How to Cook a Frozen Pizza the Hugo Way, which gently parodied each of last year’s Best Novel nominees

“The witch Frisby approached the oven, her humanist boots clipping the floor in a rhythm like the spears of Menelaus approaching the walls of Illium.

 
Must thou once again use such words, Mycrust? We have had words on this thou and me already. Speak more on the cooking of this ‘pizza’ and less on witchcraft.

Speaking of Mycroft, Camestros’ review of Too Like the Lightning was particularly thought-provoking.  He likes it, but can’t recommend it – he agrees more with its detractors than its fans, and thinks that it is woefully incomplete, but he still likes it.  I found myself agreeing with a lot of his review, while still loathing the book itself.

All in all, this turned out to be the ideal reading for someone lying around feeling miserable with cramps – a pot-pourri of light but relatively serious articles, quirky humorous pieces, and strange little cartoons or poems – nothing requiring too much concentration, but all entertaining and with plenty of variety.

Also, he’s an Aussie! Yay for Aussie writers!

I’ve added his blog to my feedly, and he’s going to the top of my ballot.

Foz Meadows provides us with 5 articles to read.  The first, “Westworld: (De)Humanising the Other” is a review of the HBO show Westworld, which sounds absolutely horrific, frankly.  Apparently it’s very well acted and directed, but… well, the very premise of people being able to go to this theme park where all the hosts are AIs who behave like humans and can pass a Turing test but basically exist for tourists to act out their Wild West fantasies on or with (mostly on, apparently) is pretty repellant.  Meadows deconstructs this further – beyond the inevitable (and gratuitously sexualised) abuse of the AIs, there is the treatment of LGBTQI characters (who are either villainous, doomed, or both), and the extra level of degradation dealt out to Hosts who appear to be people of colour.

To be fair, I’ve never heard of the show, but if the premise is as written, it’s hard to imagine how it could be anything other than deeply squicky.

Her next article is called “Shin Godzilla: Disasters, Tropes & Cultural Memory”.  This is a Japanese disaster film, and Meadows’ review centres around how different the tropes are to the sort of tropes found in American disaster movies.  Japan is a country that puts a fair bit of effort into disaster preparedness and values cooperation and knowledge, and the movie reflects this, with the disaster/monster itself as the main antagonist to be defeated – American disaster movies tend to reflect an idea that if disaster strikes, it will be every man for himself, and any sort of organised structure or authority (the government, the army) will in fact be adding to the problems and be something the heroes have to overcome.  This is a troubling cultural insight – libertarian ideals seem to be baked into US culture at an even deeper level than I’d have thought, even in the so called ‘liberal’ media.

“YA Discourse: Witch vs Vulture” deconstructs a recent controversy among YA readers and reviewers over Laurie Forest’s book, Black Witch; a review that quoted it extensively, claiming that it was deeply toxic and bigoted; and the inevitable flustercluck in response to that review.  The key sentence, I think, is this one:

Which is what Sinyard means when she says The Black Witch “holds no regard to the feelings of marginalised people” – the big emotional reveal is seemingly predicated on the reader either learning from, being surprised by or sympathising with Elloren’s transformation, which means caring enough about her – caring more about her than those she victimises – to feel invested in the first place. And if you, as a reader, are one of those she victimises, then that’s unlikely to be a fun experience.

She moves on from the book and the general controversy around it (which takes the shape of pretty much every controversy I’ve seen around a book in the last decade) to thinking about cultural change online and the intersection of this with young people who are just beginning to make their own literary judgments online.  There are so many obnoxious folk out there who like to pretend to want to be educated on Diversity 101 that people have been burned out on helping them, and start defaulting to rudeness in answering those sorts of questions, which is rough on young people who genuinely are trying to figure things out (and possibly the goal of some of the obnoxious folk in the first place.)

The essay also discusses issues of censorship, of how we respond to ‘bad’ books and what makes books ‘bad’ in the first place.  It’s a very thought provoking essay, and well worth reading.  Also, I love a good fandom drama dissection, and this was a very good one indeed.

I didn’t really engage with the last two essays, “Movie Thoughts: SF, Pulp & Grit”, which is about Alien: Covenant, and “Final Fantasy FXV: Thoughts”.  I think they are perfectly good examples of their type, but of limited interest to me.

This is a hard category to judge, because everything was pretty good.  Camestros Felapton is definitely getting my first place vote.  After that, I think I have Sarah Gailey and Bogi Takács (final order may change), the first for some really interesting essays, and the second for a really interesting perspective; Foz Meadows, Charles Payseur and Mike Glyer are kind of equal fourth for me, but will probably go in that order.  I feel bad about putting Glyer last – I feel bad about putting ANYONE last.  Really, there was nothing bad in this section, so I may still mess around with my votes down the track.

Felapton was a real find, however.  I’m very glad I read him.

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