Hugo Reading Progress

2024 Hugo Awards Progress
57 / 57 items read/watched (100.00%)
7433 / 7433 pages read (100.00%)
1435 / 1435 minutes watched (100.00%)

26 July 2024

Hugos 2024: Ballots for Dramatic Presentation and Graphic Story

Finally, we have my nominations and votes in the "visual" categories: comics, tv, and film. (I have linked the titles if I have written a review elsewhere.)


Best Dramatic Presentation (Short Form)

6. Doctor Who, special #3: "The Giggle", written by Russell T Davies, directed by Chanya Button

Of the four episodes of Doctor Who to air in 2023, this is the one I would be least likely to submit for the Hugo Awards. It certainly had some strong moments, and I am not as against the "bigeneration" as some, but it did not come together for me.

5. Loki 2x6: "Glorious Purpose", written by Eric Martin, directed by Aaron Moorhead & Justin Benson
 
Longtime readers of my Hugo rankings will know of my absolute dedication to my bizarre tendency of refusing to watch any episodes of serialized streaming shows other than the ones that are the actual finalists, which means that I watched this, the twelfth and final episode of Loki, having seen only one previous episode, the fourth, back in 2022. As a result, there were a lot of character beats that totally went over my head, but I was able to (mostly) work out what was going on, and it seemed pretty interesting. I can imagine myself watching more of the show, which is more than I can say for most Marvel stuff on Disney Plus. I struggled to rank this versus "The Giggle" but decided that if this didn't land for me, it wasn't its fault I don't think.
 
4. The Last of Us 1x3: "Long, Long Time", written by Craig Mazin, directed by Peter Hoar
 
I gather The Last of Us is a postapocalyptic show about fungus zombies (I did copyedit an essay about it earlier this summer), and that it's pretty serialized, but this one stands on its own fairly well, as most of it is an extended flashback about two side characters, one of them a doomsday prepper played by Nick Offerman, following them from the early days of the apocalypse in 2003 up to the present in 2023. I thought it was a very well done depiction of a lonely man who finally found a situation in which he might thrive—I've only really seen Offerman in Parks and Rec, so this was my first experience of his (considerable) dramatic chops. Since it stood alone much better, I was happy to place it above Loki, but I wasn't about to place it above the very good episodes of any of the shows that I actually watch!

(When I uploaded the above screenshot I was reminded of my consistent objection throughout the episode that it was very clearly not filmed in Massachusetts.)
 
3. Star Trek: Strange New Worlds 2x07: "Those Old Scientists", written by Kathryn Lyn & Bill Wolkoff, directed by Jonathan Frakes
 
I was not surprised to see this as a finalist: a crossover between Strange New Worlds and Lower Decks is exactly the kind of fan-pleasing thing that Hugo nominators love. But it was indeed a worthy finalist; lots of great jokes of course but also some surprisingly dramatic moments. I liked the way Boimler's future knowledge played into the season character arc of Nurse Chapel's attempt to have a relationship with Mister Spock.
 
2. Doctor Who, special #2: "Wild Blue Yonder", written by Russell T Davies, directed by Tom Kingsley
 
In one sense, this is a weird anniversary special. The Doctor Who specials on either side of it are celebratory, in the sense that they bring back beloved characters and old concepts from Doctor Who's long history. But I really like that on getting David Tennant and Catherine Tate to come back to Doctor Who, Russell T Davies's instinct was to do a low-key episode that required them to act the shit out of it. This is Doctor Who at its best, and the kind of thing I'd happily see win.

1. Star Trek: Strange New Worlds 2x09: "Subspace Rhapsody", written by Dana Horgan & Bill Wolkoff, directed by Dermott Downs 
 
If ever something was destined to win me over, surely it was a musical episode of Star Trek. But this was a particularly good execution of that premise; its placement as the second-last episode of the season means it isn't a fun interlude, but the culmination of several key character throughlines. Christina Chong is a powerhouse singer, and her character of La'an cemented herself as my favorite with this episode; Celia Rose Gooding excels in Uhura's big musical number, which also brought their character into focus for me; Ethan Peck's song as Spock was surprisingly clever and good. Lots of good jokes too, of course, and the final musical number is excellent.


Best Dramatic Presentation (Long Form)

6. The Wandering Earth II; directed by Frant Gwo; script by Yang Zhixue, Frant Gwo, Gong Geer, and Ye Ruchang
 
This is a Chinese movie; it's actually a prequel to the first Wandering Earth movie (2019), which is itself based on a Liu Cixin short story. The premise of the movie is that the sun is expanding, so they have to stick giant engines on the Earth and fly it out of the solar system. It's long on spectacle; its 160 minutes revolve around three big crises across decades: a terrorist attack on a space elevator, a solar storm on the moon, and the explosion of the moon. Various characters' stories weave through these crises, most prominently a heroic astronaut (and his family) and a computer scientist (whose dead daughter has been uploaded into a computer). Perhaps unsurprisingly, this latter subplot was the most interesting part of the movie, which was long on (admittedly well rendered) spectacle but short on anything else. I am glad this is a finalist, because it's the kind of thing the Hugos should be recognizing, but it's not the kind of thing I feel inclined to vote for. Very obviously inferior to Barbie and everything else on the list this year.
 
5. Barbie, directed by Greta Gerwig, script by Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach

I feel a bit weird ranking this where I ranked it, and I wonder if I was set up by the buzz around this film—or maybe as a man I am just doomed to not get very much out of it. I mean, I did like it a lot. Amazing visual design, good jokes, and fun songs, plus I particularly enjoyed the performance of America Ferrera. I thought the movie had a lot of great moments when it came to being a woman but I did find the message of the movie kind of muddled in that I didn't really understand what it was trying to say using the Kens. Obviously they were wrong to try to impose patriarchy... but it wasn't very obvious to me that they were wrong to rebel to begin with. Anyway, it was good fun and I enjoyed it but not as much as I wanted to.

4. Dungeons & Dragons: Honor among Thieves; directed by John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein; script by John Francis Daley, Jonathan Goldstein, and Michael Gilio

As opposed to Barbie, which wasn't as good as I expected, this was way better than I expected it to be! I thought it was going to be bad, but it was way better than it had any right to be. My favorite movie trope is probably "group of disparate people come together to accomplish something against impossible odds" and this is an excellently executed example of it. Excellent jokes, charming acting (a friend said that Chris Pine is the best Chris and I think she is probably right, but the rest of the cast is also great), good character moments, fun twists and hijinks, and (surprisingly for a modern action movie) no long tedious action sequences. I really enjoyed this movie.

3. Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse; directed by Joaquim Dos Santos, Kemp Powers, and Justin K. Thompson; script by Phil Lord & Christopher Miller and Dave Callaham

The first Spider-Verse film was an unexpected pleasure for me. This one is still excellent in some ways... but not quite as good in others. Utterly beautiful, doing amazing stuff with the medium of animation I've never seen anywhere else. Great score. Good jokes (if not as many as I remember from the first one). Neat character work with Miles and also Gwen, really getting a lot out of both visual and voice performances. I was a little skeptical of marrying up Miles's personal plot with a threat-to-the-multiverse plot, but the movie actually did a good job of that. This would easily rank above Nimona... except it's half a story! I had known it would end on a cliffhanger, but I had expected more of a Empire Strikes Back here's-a-hook-to-the-next-one cliffhanger, not a you-need-to-watch-the-next-one-to-get-anything-out-of-it cliffhanger. (That said, it's a very good cliffhanger with a very good twist!) But anyway, I feel compelled to ding it one spot. The next one doesn't even have a schedule release date yet!

2. Nimona, directed by Nick Bruno & Troy Quaye, script by Robert L. Baird & Lloyd Taylor

This is one of those cases where I begin to doubt my ability to rank things. I definitely think Nimona is better than D&D, and I definitely enjoyed D&D more than Barbie. But is Nimona better than Barbie? That doesn't seem right! But I guess that's the reason I try to think of these things as a series of one-on-one matches (I build the rankings as I watch things, rather than wait until the end), so I just have to make a series of small judgment calls. Anyway, this took me a bit to get into, but once I figured out what vibe it was going for, I found that it was both funny and had some good stuff to say about what we count as "monsters." Good reveal at the end.

1. Poor Things, directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, script by Tony McNamara

I think for certain people this is going to be a bit of a "hot take" but I really enjoyed this move. You have an inkling of what is going on from the beginning but only figure out the precise details as you go, so I will avoid too many spoilers, but basically a mad scientist in the 1890s (though, pleasingly to this pedantic Victorianist, no one ever uses the word "scientist") reanimates a woman's dead body. She has the mind of a child in the body of an adult. The film uses this concept to explore ideas about sex and gender. I (of course) kept thinking about John Berger, who tells us that, "To be born a woman is to be born, within an allotted and confined space, into the keeping of men. The social presence of women is developed as a result of their ingenuity in living under such tutelage within such a limited space." Poor Things explores these concepts by giving us an adult woman who has not had the tutelage necessary to understanding. How do others see her and how does she come to see herself?

The whole thing has this veneer of unreality laid on top of it, too; excellent use of visuals that call attention to themselves as visuals, which is of course what you would want in a film about how men see women, and how women come to see themselves. I think what I was most unprepared for, though, was how funny the movie was. I wouldn't categorize it as a comedy, but all the reviews and discourse I'd heard led me to expect it to be fairly po-faced, but it had several excellent laugh-out-loud jokes. The film has a ridiculous premise, but it totally leans into that and manages to use it to posit some serious things. I think this movie probably has a smaller circle of people who would enjoy it than D&D, but for me it was more of an achievement, so I gave it the edge easily.


Best Graphic Story or Comic

6. The Three-Body Problem, #01–14; script by Cai Jin and Kaishu; art by Caojijiuridong and Shuixiongchon

This is the first fourteen installments of an adaptation of Cixin Liu's The Three-Body Problem, which won the Hugo Award for Best Novel in 2015, and has since been transformed into a Netflix show. Based on my seven-year-old memory of the novel, it seems to be fairly straightforward and faithful, but I don't know that it ever rises above the level of competence. The art is fine, but I found myself wishing the part focusing on the "Three-Body" game had been weirder. The best part, like in the novel, is the cynical cigarette-smoking cop who thinks the whole thing is bullshit.
 
5. Saga, Volume Eleven, script by Brian K. Vaughan, art by Fiona Staples
 
Saga itself is great, of course, but this doesn't feel like one of its greater installments, though it has a lot of nice moments. The world of Saga is pretty complicated at this point—which is one of its strengths—but that means it does not benefit from the fact that my reading has been stretched out across over seven years! Who are all these side characters? I look forward to my inevitable reread when it's completed, but for now I mostly grok the story of Alana and Hazel, which I enjoy but is continually being interrupted. Anyway, all that is to say, I am glad I am continuing to read this, and I can see why it keeps getting nominated, but I wouldn't give it an award.

4. Bea Wolf, script by Zach Weinersmith, art by Boulet
 
This is a retelling of the first part of Beowulf in comics form, in modernized English with vaguely Anglo-Saxon alliteration—except it's all about kids. The mead hall is awesome treehouse, Grendel is a mean teacher who hates fun, the warriors are all kids playing outside. It's very well done in the sense you have to admire the cleverness of it all... but I feel like my admiration is entirely technical; I was never swept up in this. Like, wow what a good job they did... but why? But still, neat stuff. So, I place it above Saga in that I can see why to someone else it's award-worthy, but below Witches of World War II in that it's not something that grabbed me.
 
3. The Witches of World War II, script by Paul Cornell, art by Valeria Burzo

This is a very solid comic, the exact kind of thing that you would want to be a finalist in Best Graphic Story, but it seems to me so rarely is. A nice original graphic novel, with solid writing and good art, and an interesting sf&fnal premise. I enjoyed reading this a lot, and I would happily see it win.
2. Wonder Woman Historia: The Amazons; script by Kelly Sue DeConnick; art by Phil Jimenez, Gene Ha, and Nicola Scott

This was the first Hugo finalist I read this year, and as soon as I read it, I felt like it was the one to beat in Best Graphic Story. In my experience, the franchise comics in this category are either excellent (last year's Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow) or excruciating (last year's Dune), with little middle ground. This is definitely in the former category; absolutely beautiful art, with something interesting to say to boot. Transcends its origins easily.

1. Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed

This is an Egyptian graphic novel originally published in Arabic, now translated into English; the title means "your wish is my command." It's set in a version of our world where people can make, sell, and buy wishes (they come in bottles or cans). The wishes are of varying quality: first-class wishes always come true as you want and are very powerful; third-class wishes can backfire on you if the wish takes you literally but doesn't adhere to what you actually want. The book begins with a stall owner trying to sell three first-class wishes he wants to get rid of (he's a devout Muslim, and using wishes is against Islamic precepts), and follows three overlapping stories of the people who come into possession of each of the three. Clever, inventive worldbuilding, good comedy, but also some real pathos and emotion; I particularly liked the middle story, about how wishes might fit in with depression and talk therapy, but was also a good metaphor for how we handle depression in our world. I said Wonder Woman Historia was the one to beat... and this one beat it! While Historia is magisterial, this really resonated with me in a lot of ways. But I'd be happy for either to win!


Overall Thoughts

As someone who watches both Strange New Worlds and Doctor Who, I of course appreciated the finalists in Best Dramatic Presentation (Short Form). These are Star Trek's third and fourth nominations since the beginning of the Paramount+ era... will it finally win? I feel like it might have a good shot. "The Giggle" is a bit of a goofy choice, to be honest, but I can't quibble with "Wild Blue Yonder." I liked both Loki and Last of Us well enough. I also thought Long Form was a strong category—an interesting, diverse set of finalists... only one of which was a superhero film! And that is one of the most distinctive superhero films of our time. All stuff I had not seen and was glad to be exposed to.

I also feel like this was probably the best, most interesting Graphic Story ballot probably ever. Again, neat stuff, none of it too similar to each other or to past finalists.

What will win? Well, I think Star Trek for Short Form, Barbie for Long Form, and god knows what for Graphic Story—the voters always manage to baffle me on that one even when the nominations are good.

24 July 2024

The First Doctor Novelisations: The Zarbi (1965)

Doctor Who and the Zarbi by Bill Strutton
illustrated by John Wood

The interesting thing about reading these first Doctor novelisations in publication order is that it encourages you not to think about them as installments in a series of books designed to novelise every Doctor Who story—this wouldn't be the case, of course, until they were reissued in 1973. Instead, just as Doctor Who in an exciting adventure with the Daleks (1964) was the only Doctor Who book, Doctor Who and the Zarbi (the novelisation of 1965's The Web Planet) is the second one.

Originally published: 1965
Acquired and read: July 2024

If you think of it that way, you spend your time reading it not thinking of it as "yet another tie-in" but "the second book"—and thus you spend your time comparing it to The Daleks. I had never really thought of The Web Planet is comparison to The Daleks before, but they're actually quite similar. This makes sense, because as I understand it, the production team was trying to recapture the success of the earlier serial. The Web Planet isn't really anything like what we now think of as a "Dalek story," though, so this might be hard for a modern viewer to notice.

But it is like The Daleks, and reading it right after the previous novel brings that out in a way that wasn't true when I watched The Web Planet on VHS. Like The Daleks, The Zarbi begins with a long extended sequence of the TARDIS crew (or, rather, Tardis crew) exploring a seemingly deserted planet. Like The Daleks, The Zarbi features dangerous bodies of water! Like The Daleks, The Zarbi features two opposing forces on this planet that have been in conflict a long time. Like The Daleks, The Zarbi is interested in evolution and devolution; just as The Daleks focused on how the Daleks and Thals has changed over time, a key part of The Zarbi is the discovery of how the Menoptera left behind in subterranean Vortis have devolved into a different species. Like The Daleks, The Zarbi is often at its best when focusing on the alienness of the planet and the titular species. Like the Daleks, the Zarbi are dependent on some kind of centralized force that gets neutralized by the TARDIS crew. Like The Daleks, The Zarbi ends with a promise of a new age on its planet, as the planet is reclaimed by the "proper" species.

Now, the Zarbi did not take off like the Daleks did, clearly, but I hadn't realized how much work they were definitely putting into recreating the previous story—but also amplifying it. The Zarbi are weirder than the Daleks in some ways, and unlike the Thals, the friendly alien species is also obviously inhuman.

Though while The Daleks tried to pretend there were no other Doctor Who stories than it, to the extent of ignoring the entire television programme, The Zarbi does retain explicit references to tv serials, including The Rescue and The Romans; it may be the second book but not the second story. I haven't seen the tv story in two decades, so I can't comment much on specific changes, but I did notice that while on tv the "astral map" is a little device on wheels the Doctor pulls out of the TARDIS to show the Zarbi, Strutton actually renders it here as one-sixth of the TARDIS console, which can be detached! And, infamously, the narrative pretty consistently calls its main character "Doctor Who" (and it's also used at least once in dialogue that I noticed).

All that said, while the alien element comes through fairly well, I found The Zarbi otherwise an inferior experience to The Daleks. Bill Strutton doesn't have David Whitaker's interest in characterization; The Daleks gave us a strong sense of Ian's voice, and subplots about Ian's relationships with the Doctor and Barbara, but here we mostly just have dialogue that you have to imagine being brought to life by the actors. The characters do clever things (even Vicki, who at first I thought Strutton was neglecting), but we don't get that novelistic access to their thoughts. And my guess is (I don't remember my VHS copy of The Web Planet very well) that the alien Voice controlling the Zarbi probably comes through as more interesting on screen than in prose.

I've been reading the modern reprints of the Targets when available... unfortunately the Amazon seller I bought this from sent me a 1981 printing of the 1973 edition, rather than the 2016 reprint I actually ordered. (They did refund my money when I complained.) I did really like the pictures by John Wood, though; simple stuff, perhaps, but he takes the visuals of the television version and amplifies them by drawing them as they ought to have been, not as they were. Unlike Schwartzman's illustrations for The Daleks, he picks visually striking moments that capture the weirdness of the text.

Every three months, I read the unread Doctor Who book I've owned the longest. Next up in sequence: Doctor Who and the Crusaders

23 July 2024

Hugos 2024: Translation State by Ann Leckie

Translation State by Ann Leckie

Ann Leckie immediately won me over with the masterful Ancillary Justice, which kicked off a movement in sf that continues to this day, as evidenced by the 2024 Hugo Award finalist Some Desperate Glory: action-focused space opera that critiques empire and colonialism with careful attention to cultural difference but also explores its allure.

Originally published: 2023
Acquired: May 2024
Read: July 2024

After the conclusion of her original trilogy, Leckie's returns to the world of the Imperial Radch have been in a slightly different mode. Like Provenance (2017), this takes place in that realm but while it has intrigue, it doesn't have space opera–style action. Translation State has three protagonists that it rotates between: Enae, the scion of a powerful family whose grandmother dies, leaving eir on their own but with nothing to call eir own; Reet, a maintenance worker on a space station who finds out he might be the heir to a ruling family thought extinct; and Qven, one of the mysterious, strange Presger Translators, humans put into the service of the most dangerous of the alien species. Over time, their three stories intersect.

All three storylines are about belonging; the characters are all ones who have not had it for various reasons, but are in search of it. Enae was hated by all members of eir family, including the only one sie was close to; Reet was an orphan raised in foster care and thus has always felt a bit estranged, even from his loving foster parents; and Qven has always felt a bit strange even among the Presger Translators. Leckie does a great job bringing us into the minds of all three characters, and the opening chapters for Enae are particularly strong, as we see eir struggle when sie is cast adrift. The Presger chapters are also strong, Leckie displaying (as in her novels Ancillary Justice and Raven Tower, in particular) for off-kilter, thoughtful worldbuilding.

In the end, though, the whole thing ends up feeling a bit sedate. In Ancillary Justice, Leckie starts with a moment of high drama (the flashback to the Justice of Toren's last mission), continues though some desperate actions in the present day (Breq and Seivarden's ice trip), and ends with an explosive but character-driven action sequence. For most of its run, though, there's little like any of that in Translation State. I feel like all the ingredients are all there, but the characters are very rarely making interesting, dramatic choices; in the end, it feels like they kind of all did exactly what you might have expected them to do. There are a few too many sequences where it seems like the characters are waiting around for other characters to decide important things. The climax is pretty creepy, but it doesn't have the tension of any of those sequences from Ancillary Justice.

Enae, in particular, ends up feeling a bit superfluous to requirements, even though sie was the character I was most interested in at the beginning. (The end hints at future adventures for eir, so I hope those come to pass in future novels because I would be on board with seeing Enae do something more.) I think the thing that worked against the novel's success the most is that the three protagonists are all näive people who feel very young even though they are all actually middle-aged. It's a type I wouldn't mind seeing once but three times—why? As a middle-aged reader myself, I think you can depict someone uncertain of their own position in the world but not make them come across as a twenty-something YA protagonist. Obviously Breq in the Ancillary books is näive in some ways, too, but that's counterbalanced by the fact that they are very powerful and knowledgeable in others. That's true of Qven here, and I ended up liking the end of their storyline a lot, but less true of Enae and Reet, who both kind of grated in the end.

All this makes it seem like I really didn't like it. I don't think that's true; I always enjoyed reading it. Leckie writes compelling characters and neat worlds. Unlike Provenance, this one feels like its asks for more, too; in addition to the bit about Enae I mentioned earlier, both Qven and Reet are left in places that seem to imply interesting complications to come, and the political situation left in place at the end of Ancillary Mercy continues to develop. This is solid work, but it's solid work from a writer I know is capable of great work.

22 July 2024

The Wizards on Walnut Street by Sam Swicegood

The Wizards on Walnut Street by Sam Swicegood

This is a fantasy novel set in Cincinnati, which I read as part of my project to read books set in my hometown. It's about a young person who, when their dad passes away, discovers that instead of having a boring corporate job, their dad was actually a wizard—and in order to find out why their dad died, they join the same wizarding firm.

Published: 2018
Acquired: December 2023
Read: July 2024

As a book, it is most assuredly okay. The book is self-published, and in need of a good editor in two different ways. The book has a fun premise, and Swicegood does a good job of merging wizardry with humdrum corporate life. At first I was suspicious of the book's seemingly sub-Pratchett footnotes, but I soon came to look forward to the funny and situationally appropriate excerpts from the employee handbook. The world Swicegood builds up is interesting; the three principal characters are fun. The climax is clever, one of those ones that uses previously set up rules of the magic world to good advantage. My favorite joke in the whole book is one that plays with perspective very well, when you are following a group of dark wizards in a meeting but then find out where they actually are.

But I found that the main character, Andy, often made decisions for reasons that needed to be spelled out more; in particular, their joining the wizarding firm seemed pretty arbitrary. The investigation of the conspiracy was pretty sloppily done. Basically, Andy bumbled along for over a hundred pages, not really learning anything, and then a minor character comes to him, conveniently tells him everything that's going on, and promptly vanishes from the narrative. I found Andy's relationship to their dead father pretty unclear; mostly it seemed like they hadn't really known their father, but every now and then there'd be a reference that indicated otherwise, like it was a relic from an earlier draft or something. I think a good developmental editor could have pushed Swicegood to do a strong revision that would have brought all this out more.

It also desperately needed a copyeditor. Lots of bad punctuation, missing words, poor formatting. I can't remember the last book I read that had so many typographical errors.

I read these books for the local color; Wizards on Walnut Street has more than some but less than others. There are a couple good jokes about Cincinnati chili, some of which I hadn't seen before. But if Swicegood really wanted to sell that Andy was an awkward out-of-towner in Cincinnati, he should have had all the other characters constantly asking them where they went to high school!

19 July 2024

Hugos 2024: Ballots for Novel, Related Work, and Lodestar

Here is my second set of Hugo rankings for this year, covering everyone's most favorite categories: the book-based ones. Best Novel, Best Related Work (usually but not always a book), and Best Young Adult Book (Not a Hugo).


Best Novel 

[UNRANKED] Starter Villain by John Scalzi
 
Another year, another glib-sounding John Scalzi novel for a Hugo finalist. This one is, I think, about a sarcastic cat who becomes a supervillain? It is impossible for me to imagine liking a John Scalzi take on this concept, based on all previous John Scalzi that I have read, so like last year's Kaiju Preservation Society, I have given it a pass. If it somehow wins, I guess I will read it in 2054 when my project to catch up on unread Hugo winners reaches 2024. Maybe by then I will be nostalgic for John Scalzi!
 
5. Witch King by Martha Wells
 
I totally bounced off this book. Though I slogged all the way to the end, I could not tell you who the characters were or what they were trying to do. Such is, in general, my reaction to epic fantasy. Lots of goofy names and obscure terms. I don't think it was bad, probably, but it was very much not for me; an easy placement at the bottom of my ballot.

4. Translation State by Ann Leckie
 
I enjoyed this novel but did not love it. It's solid and serviceable, but I feel like a better novel with the same ingredients was in reach of Leckie. I think my placement of this versus Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi is ultimately pretty arbitrary; both books have interesting set-ups they don't quite deliver on. In the end, I gave Chakraborty the edge because Leckie previously won a Best Novel Hugo, whereas Chakraborty hasn't even been a finalist before.
3. The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty

This book was fun, and did some great stuff, but though I enjoyed it a lot, the ending prevented me from finding the book as a whole great. (As always, read the full review linked above for the details.)

2. The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera

As I said in my review of this book, it was complicated and strange, and a bit of a mishmash, but ambitious and highly intriguing. Thus, I feel like it slots in here—I probably enjoyed it about the same as Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi, but it's aiming to do more than it, and thus seems to be the kind of thing the Hugos should reward. On the other hand, I think Some Desperate Glory is definitely more successful at doing what it's aiming to, and was more clearly enjoyable, so it gets the edge.

1. Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh

If your book make me gasp aloud from sheer delight at one point, then I think it is probably going to rank pretty highly. This felt like the one to unseat even though it was the first one I read. Building on previous winners like Ancillary Justice but going in new directions too, exactly the kind of thing the Hugos should go around awarding.


Best Related Work

[UNRANKED] Chinese Science Fiction: An Oral History History, Volumes 2 and 3 by Yang Feng / 雨果X访谈 (Discover X), presented by Tina Wong
 
Last year, the first volume of Chinese Science Fiction: An Oral History was a Hugo finalist; last year there was no English translation. The same is true of volumes 2 and 3 this year. I imagine this is a magisterial work, and it seems like exactly the kind of thing that ought to be a Hugo finalist, but I have no way of knowing if it's any good. If I were to rank it, however, I would give it a slight edge over Discover X, which is a podcast—but one that is not eligible in the usual category of Best Fancast because it is professionally produced. Discover X is Chinese but according to the Hugo voter packet, does do English-language episodes... but I have no desire to listen to a podcast, sorry not sorry.

4. The Culture by Iain M. Banks

There are probably people to whom this book is very exciting, but I am not one of them. The late Iain Banks was famously the author of the Culture novels, and this collects various meticulous drawings he made depicting spaceships, locations, vehicles, and weaponry from that series. The problem is that I have read just one Culture story, the novella "The State of the Art," and though I very much enjoyed it, and I have been meaning to get around to reading more Culture books, most of what was collected here utterly lacked significance. I spent less than an hour paging through it, and that was it. But if you know what these spaceships were, you would probably be very impressed!

3. A Traveller in Time: The Critical Practice of Maureen Kincaid Speller

This is a collection of reviews and criticism by the late Maureen Kincaid Speller (1959–2022), a British sf critic. I found it tough going at first, and I would have to fault the arrangement of the book and some of the editorial choices for that. The book begins with a number of essays by Speller on broad topics, but no context is given for them, not even dates of original publication, which makes them hard to digest. If Speller is commenting on the low quality of the Hugo Award shortlist, it makes a big difference if we are talking 2005 or 2015, but you have to look that up in the back of the book; many of the pieces are clearly intervening in early 2000s sf blog discourse... but how? There are then a number of reviews of anthologies, which I don't think show Speller (or any critic) off at her best; these kind of reviews can only skim the surface of an individual story and don't have a strong sense of argument. Finally, about halfway through the book we get to reviews of individual novels, movies, and television programs, and suddenly Speller snaps into focus as an incisive, thoughtful critic. There were no reviews of books I had actually read, but as a good reviewer ought, Speller gives you a sense of what these books were doing, how well they did it, and why you might want to read them; I have jotted several titles down on my always-increasing list of books to get from the library. I was more likely to have seen some of the films discussed (Arrival, The Force Awakens, The Hobbit), and these presented incisive takes even when I disagreed with them. I think if these reviews focused on single texts had come first, I would have had a better sense of Speller and her philosophy which would have let me better understand her takes in some of the sf conversations. So, worth reading if you like sf criticism (and I certainly do), but not as strong a showing for Speller's work as I think could have been made. I would be fine with it winning, but it was not as consistently interesting as City on Mars.

2. A City on Mars: Can We Settle Space, Should We Settle Space, and Have We Really Thought This Through? by Kelly and Zach Weinersmith

This is a nonfiction book that goes into meticulous detail about the challenges of space colonization, in Earth orbit, on the moon, and on Mars, from both a scientific and legal perspective. Lots of good details, lively writing. My main takeaway was that however hard you think space colonization might be, it's much much harder, way harder than it's commonly portrayed by science fiction stories, or by the tech billionaires currently trying to set up Ayn Randian utopias on Mars. Not about science fiction per se, but clearly "related" to it; I enjoyed it a lot and keep thinking about tidbits from it months after reading it.

1. All These Worlds: Reviews & Essays by Niall Harrison

This is a collection of (as the subtitle indicates) reviews and essays by the British sf critic Niall Harrison, whose work and even name was previously unknown to me. I found this much more successful than the Kincaid Speller book above, probably because it's both better focused and better organized. The reviews here are all of works published 2005-14, and are arranged in order of publication of the work reviewed. What quickly emerges is a sense of argument, as Harrison probes the changes the genre of sf&d was undergoing in what was in retrospect a pretty key period for how we now understand it. As he lays out in the introduction, 2005-14 roughly takes you from Racefail to the Sad Puppies, an era of increasing deliberation about diversity in sf&f; it's also an era where people started increasingly dealing with climate change in sf&f in meaningful ways. What I really like about Harrison as a critic is how he puts the individual works he reviews into conversation with the broader genre; you get a very clear sense of what these books are up to. His reviews of anthologies are strikingly strong, and there were a large number of books here I had not read—but now want to—so he's doing a good job of not sticking to the expected mass market US sf&f. The end of the book has a number of essays; two of these in particular were what tipped the book over into first-place status for me. One combines three different reviews into a meditation on how we articulate the history of sf&f, the other is an overview of several different anthologies of short Chinese sf, but instead of going through them book by book, he covers them in order of the stories' original publications, which gives a sort of partial history of the genre in China. Overall, this is exactly the kind of thing I want out of the Best Related Work Hugo.


Lodestar Award for Best Young Adult Book

[UNRANKED] Promises Stronger than Heartbreak by Charlie Jane Anders

This is a sequel to two previous finalists; the first book in the series placed in 2022, and the second in 2023. Though I have liked some of Anders's other work, I found the first book in the series excruciatingly tedious, and thus have no incentive to read further books—I'm not that much of a completist. So I just left it off my ballot.

6. Abeni's Song by P. Djèlí Clark

This is an African-influenced fantasy novel about a young girl whose village is destroyed; she goes and lives with a witch and then assembles a group of friends to go take down her village. Though I have enjoyed some of Clark's short fiction, I haven't found his novels to be to my taste. I thought the main character's reactions to things weirdly absent, the chapters seemed long without going anywhere, the assembly of a group incredibly fast and convenient, and the climax unearned. I never cared about anything in this book, and it didn't seem to be working very hard to make me want to. Like other works of African-influenced fantasy I have read (e.g., Children of Blood and Bone), the cultural elements felt grafted on; it came across as a very generic work of YA fantasy.

5. No Award

I'm sorry, but I can muster up no enthusiasm for Abeni's Song, which seems to me to typify one of the problems the Hugo Awards often have: once a writer gets on the ballot for something actually quite good (Clark has written some good short sf), the nominators start reading everything that person produces, and thus they get on the ballot even for mediocre work. (See also: Asimov getting on the ballot and even winning for Foundation's Edge.)

4. The Sinister Booksellers of Bath by Garth Nix

My wife is a big fan of Nix's Sabriel books, but I had not read anything by him before. This is a sequel to another of his books (The Left-Handed Booksellers of London), but I found that it largely stood on its own, except that it never clearly delineated the difference between left- and right-handed booksellers. Anyway, it's about a secret order of "booksellers" that combat dangerous magical entities; here they have to prevent one particular one from rising up and obtaining great power through sacrificing innocent victims on the solstice. I found it cute and charming without being precious or twee—quite an accomplishment these days. A lot of fun ideas, and I would loop back and read the first book, but it didn't set my world on fire. Pretty easily slots into the middle of my rankings.

3. Unraveller by Frances Hardinge

If my review of Unraveller linked above reads like damning with faint praise, you'd be right. I often struggle to rank the middle of my ballots. It's clear to me that Abeni's Song is the worse of the five books that I read and To Shape a Dragon's Breath the best. But how do the others slot in? Though I enjoyed Liberty's Daughter, I feel like Unraveller was ultimately richer in that it was trying to do more—but I also feel like Unraveller didn't totally mine the rich vein of metaphor it had opened up. So I put Liberty's Daughter higher than Unraveller. On the other hand, Sinister Booksellers also had the vibe of being "more successful if less ambitious"... yet for some reason I wouldn't put it above Unraveller even if I did enjoy it. Anyway, take it all to say that my 2nd through 4th places are pretty arbitrary in one sense... but in another sense I would probably be fairly happy if Unraveller won but less so if Sinister Booksellers did, and maybe that's the ultimately tiebreaker.

2. Liberty's Daughter by Naomi Kritzer

This is a "fix-up" of six novellas originally published in F&SF, about a teenage girl living on a libertarian seastead in the near future. I do like Krtizer, but going in I was a bit skeptical, because I didn't see how that might capture what I like about her work, which is (as I said in my review of her Best Novelette finalist for this year) that "she tells stories about the hard work we do to maintain community." But Kritzer finds a place for that here, as what her protagonist discovers is that even in an every-man-for-himself environment, people still form community and help each other. I don't think it's a perfect book—the somewhat jerky movement of plot betrays its origins as six separate stories, the ending leaves perhaps slightly too many threads and ideas unexplored—but overall I enjoyed it a lot and found it very readable. Neat sense of a possible world, and I liked how that world was slowly unspooled. (Fun fact: I asked my local library to purchase this, and though they did, they reclassified it from "Teen" [where I put it since it was a Lodestar finalist] to "Adult.")

1. To Shape a Dragon's Breath: The First Book of Nampeshiweisit by Moniquill Blackgoose

One of the things I love about genre fiction is that sense of dialogue, the idea that later books are in conversation with earlier books. I don't know what author Moniquill Blackgoose was actually thinking, but it very much seemed to me that this book was in dialogue with Temeraire and Harry Potter, among others. The main character is a native American woman who finds a dragon egg, in a world where dragons are fairly common, but native dragons largely died out from a plague when European settlers came to America. Temeraire shows us dragons all around the world, of course, but from Laurence's perspective; here, we get a sense of how native culture would deal with them differently. The protagonist must enroll in a white dragon school in order to be allowed to keep her dragon, and here the book feels like a very interesting take on Harry Potter and its ilk, with Blackgoose exploring the dynamics of class and race that underlie privilege, but which authors like Rowling do not meaningfully engage with. It's a slow burn, no big action sequences or anything, but that's exactly what I wanted out of this. I often say (borrowing from, I think, Jo Walton) that sf stories are mystery stories where the world itself is the mystery, and I loved that aspect of this book, as we slowly figure out how this alternate world functions the exploring our protagonist's place in it. Exactly what I want out of my YA fantasy, and I would gladly read the sequel whenever it is published; I had to stop myself from evangelizing about this book to everyone I interacted with.


Final Thoughts

It's funny—a lot like Best Novella and Best Short Story, I am happy to see a more diverse array of finalists, but also like Best Novella and Best Short Story, I don't think this resulted in a much stronger set of finalists in the end. There were two authors I had never even heard of (Chandrasekera and Tesh), and a third I was only dimly aware of and who was a new finalist (Chakraborty). And yes, we had three returning finalists (Scalzi, Wells, and Leckie), but only in one of those cases was the novel a sequel to a previous finalist. On paper, it was a strong, interesting set of finalists. But though I enjoyed my top four, and was glad to read all of them, it was an easy ranking; only Some Desperate Glory feels remotely competitive, only Some Desperate Glory seemed to be doing something really interesting and, well, novel.

Related Work, on the other hand, was great. Four really interesting books, none of which I would ever have come across without the Hugo Awards. Some years this category can baffle me, but this year is exactly what I want out of it. The same goes for the Lodestar; sure, some stuff wasn't great, but I am very happy to have discovered both the Kritzer and the Blackgoose, and I'm always happy to have an excuse to read more Hardinge.

Prediction-wise, I feel pretty uncertain in all three categories. I think maybe Some Desperate Glory for Best Novel, but maybe that's just my own biases; it seems a bit polarizing. I doubt my personal favorite will win Related Work; I am kind of worried nostalgia will give it to Banks, but my suspicion is the Weinersmith will be everyone's second choice and thus it will win on transfers. As for the Lodestar, the Hugo voters continually baffle me in this category, so it could be literally anyone.

16 July 2024

Hugos 2024: Thornhedge by Ursula Vernon

Thornhedge by T. Kingfisher

Published: 2023
Acquired: April 2024
Read: June 2024

This is a finalist for the Best Novella Hugo; while I automatically pick up (almost) all Best Novel finalists, I only purchase finalists in other categories for authors I particularly like. T. Kingfisher (a.k.a. Ursula Vernon) is one of those authors, as I have very much enjoyed her previous Hugo finalists, especially A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking.

This is a fairy tale retelling, focusing on Sleeping Beauty—the central conceit is the question, "What if there was a good reason for the fairy godmother to put her to sleep for a long time?" It's an interesting idea, but I didn't find the execution very interesting; this is probably the weakest Kingfisher/Vernon book I've read. Most of it is given over to the backstory of the godmother, which is doled out pretty slowly, and I didn't find the climax of the story very interesting. It's well written of course, but it doesn't compare to, say, last year's What Moves the Dead or Nettle and Bone for complexity and depth.

12 July 2024

Reading The Wicked Witch of Oz Aloud to My Kid

The Wicked Witch of Oz by Rachel Cosgrove Payes
illustrated by Eric Shanower

Like many Oz fans, I suppose, my kid likes how the books lend themselves to indexing and organizing. Four quadrants of Oz, each with its own color, and each with its own ruler. Each also has its own wicked witch... well, almost. In Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz, the Wizard stated that when he arrived in Oz, each quadrant was ruled by its own witch, good ones in the north and south, and wicked ones in the east and west, but Ozma told him that before that, the north and south had been ruled by wicked witches as well. The Wicked Witches of the East and West we of course met (and disposed of) back in the very first book, and the Wicked Witch of the North, Mombi, appeared in Marvelous Land. But who was the Wicked Witch of the South, and what was her story? My kid has long asked me this question—and from our looking at covers of future Oz books, has long known we would someday find the answer to that question in The Wicked Witch of Oz.

Published: 1993
Acquired: June 2024
Read aloud:
June–July 2024
The story goes that after writing Hidden Valley, Rachel Cosgrove offered Reilly & Lee a second Oz book, called Percy in Oz. But Reilly & Lee passed on the book, and the manuscript sat in Cosgrove's trunk for forty years (by which point she had married and was known as Rachel Cosgrove Payes*) until it was published by the International Wizard of Oz Club with illustrations by Eric Shanower under the title The Wicked Witch of Oz. As is my usual method on my journey through Oz with my kid, we read it where it would have been published, not where it was, my reasoning being they were far more likely to remember and care about relevant characters in this sequence. (This does create a minor discontinuity, in that a character from Merry Go Round in Oz, which we haven't read yet, appears in a crowd scene.)

The story, like many of Baum's own, is tantalizing but light on backstory. It begins with Singra, the Wicked Witch of the South, awaking from a hundred-year sleep in her hut in the Red Forest of the Quadling Country. We are told Glinda put her to sleep (consistent with the statement in Dorothy and the Wizard that "Glinda the Good had conquered the evil Witch in the South") but given little beyond this. How did Glinda do this? Why put her to sleep (and then, apparently, forget about her)? What kind of terror did Singra get up to? We are not told, because the story much more focuses on the present-day machinations of Singra, though it does give us the tantalizing bit of information that Singra is cousin to the Wicked Witches of the East and West—our first indication in the Oz novels, in fact, that they were related to each other. (The 1939 film made them sisters.) The book does seem to indicate Singra did not rule the Quadling country previously, when she thinks about how nice it would be to rule it.

Singra is a protagonist here; many of the book's chapters follow her decisions and actions. On waking up, she learns that while she was a sleep a girl named Dorothy killed her cousins, so she plots her revenge: turning Dorothy into a piece of cheese! This requires stealing some ingredients from Glinda's palace and even capturing the Scarecrow, but things go wrong for her when she accidentally transforms Trot, thinking her Dorothy. Dorothy and Percy the White Rat (from Hidden Valley) immediately set out in pursuit of Singra, and have various adventures, meeting a "rubber band" (i.e., a band whose members are made of rubber), making friends with a living neon light named Leon, getting captured by giant bees, and being partially transformed into hummingbirds before finally catching up with Singra... who then turns Dorothy into a statue!

My kid repeatedly indicated they found the book scary and that they didn't like it. They have never like reading about "bad things" happening, and Wicked Witch has more of those than most Oz books: Singra stealing things, Singra tying up the Scarecrow and taking some of his straw, Singra transforming Trot, Singra transforming Dorothy. I think to an adult reader, it doesn't come across as terribly perilous, but it totally works for a five-year-old. (Even though at one point they told me they were pretty sure Dorothy would not be a piece of cheese in later Oz books.) It did, I suspect, keep them involved in the book—for the past year or so, we've averaged one Oz book per month (compared to our earlier rate of twenty-three in one year), but we flew through this one in just a couple weeks because they kept on asking for chapters (whereas normally we just read a chapter on the alternate days that I do bedtime). How would Dorothy be saved?

Though it has the problems in the ending of many Oz books (once Ozma knows what's going on, the book wraps up pretty quickly, because there's little Ozma can't do with the Magic Belt, the Magic Picture, and the Wizard to call upon), I too enjoyed it a lot. I do like it when "wicked" characters are co-protagonists in Oz books (e.g., Lost King, Pirates) because they are often sly and clever, and it's interesting to kind of root both for and against them. The book is much more focused than Cosgrove's Hidden Valley, with a smaller cast of characters: just Percy, Dorothy, and later Leon in the adventuring party. This means the characters all get to contribute (unlike the extraneous Cowardly Lion and Hungry Tiger in Hidden Valley), and Dorothy comes across as the forthright protagonist we're used to from previous books. The communities they bump into on their journey are interesting without being distracting, and like in Hidden Valley, Cosgrove is good about the characters using their cleverness to get out of situations. The incidents feel Baumian without feeling derivative; the partial forced transformation into hummingbirds, for example, recalls Road to Oz, and Leon the Neon is a great idea.

I think it's probably also impossible to understate what a difference good illustrations make to an Oz book, and Wicked Witch is blessed with ones by Eric Shanower, surely the best Oz illustrator other than Denslow and Neill. His illustrations are detailed but also whimsical, capturing the imagery of the text in an evocative way: I loved his pictures of Leon the Neon, for example, and Percy and Dorothy with hummingbird wings is an amazing visual. (Sure this is the only official Oz novel to show us Dorothy's belly button!) There's a good sense of humor to the images too; my kid and I both loved his pictures of the cheese-obsessed Percy. And the pictures aren't just there in quality, but also quantity: each chapter has a title page with a small picture, whereas the first page of each chapter has a big image that wraps around the text, spanning two pages. (J. L. Bell has a great discussion of the book's visual design here.) Indeed, there's no two-page spread of the book that is image-less; again, compare with Hidden Valley, where my three-year-old (who will read Oz with us a bedtime) would look at a two-page spread of pure text and complain, "I want to see a picture!" Crazy to think that Shanower offered to reillustrate Hidden Valley when the Oz Club republished it, and they turned him down!

Other Thoughts:

  • For the first time, I think, my kid actually got a punny creation in an Oz book: they understood both meanings of "rubber band" here, being familiar both with actual rubber bands and getting what it meant to have a band made out of rubber. They boggled a bit.
  • There is a very rare post-Neill reference to Ruth Plumly Thompson's books here, with the Wizard's searchlight (from Yellow Knight and Ojo) being mentioned, though not used, as a way to find the missing Trot.

Next up in sequence: Merry Go Round in Oz

* While Hidden Valley was her first ever book, by 1993 she had published numerous novels, most of them romances with titles like Love's Escapade, Bride of Fury, Moment of Desire, and Satan's Mistress. Not exactly Oz material!

09 July 2024

Hugos 2024: The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera

The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera

This is an odd, unusual debut fantasy novel, difficult to summarize. It mostly takes place in a city in a fantasy realm; the main character is seemingly the son of a god, but has been cast off by his parents. I don't want to say a whole lot about it, because I think it's one of those books that doesn't really benefit from being summarized ahead of time, just read.

Originally published: 2023
Acquired: June 2024
Read: July 2024

I will say I think it feels like three different novels—one about the cast-off son, one about the city and the titular "bright doors" (which are a fascinating fantasy device), and one about a prison camp. Did the three novels totally go together? I wasn't always sure; it sometimes felt like they were getting in each others' way. There's a lot of cool stuff here about how we define and categorize the world and other people and ourselves, the tools of oppression and comprehension we wield and the way we push against that, from epic stories to pogroms to plays to identity cards to religion to crowdfunding campaigns.

The writing is beautiful. There's a particularly evocative section about the main character in prison that I just loved. I think, more than any other book I've read recently, it would benefit from being reread. Now that I have a sense of what it's doing, would it hang together more? I admire this book a lot; I love parts of it. I am glad the Hugos gave me the opportunity to read it.