Showing posts with label creator: yoon ha lee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creator: yoon ha lee. Show all posts

29 March 2024

Science Fiction and the Hermit Crab

In my immortality Honors class (which is probably due a post of its own, but at this point, I'll just wait until the semester is over), the students read "Lena" last week, which is a short story by Sam "qntm" Hughes that's written in the form of a Wikipedia article. As I prepared to teach it, this got me thinking: was there a term for stories, especially science fiction stories, told in nonnarrative forms? I could think of a couple examples right off the top of my head other than Lena; one was Isaac Asimov's thiotimoline stories, which are written in the form of peer-reviewed chemistry articles, another was Yoon Ha Lee's "Entropy War," which is written in the form of rules for a dice game. Some people love this form: Hughes uses it a lot, actually, so does Lee; among its most famous practitioners is surely Stanislaw Lem, who wrote a number of works of fiction in the form of introductions or reviews for books that did not exist!

I posted on r/PrintSF and r/AskLiteraryStudies asking if anyone else knew a term for these kind of tales; the latter was a dud, but the denizens of PrintSF (my favorite subreddit) came up with a bunch of examples and a couple suggestions for terms.

"Epistolary fiction" was suggested, and as a Victorianist, I am of course very aware of epistolary fiction, but what strikes me about all the examples I came up with is that it's a narrative told through a nonnarrative form. I have long had a fascination with what you might call the "non-novel novel," such as Nabokov's Pale Fire, a novel in the form of a poem with annotations and other critical apparatus. Epistolary fiction uses narrative forms, like letters and diaries, for the most part. (I once tried to do this myself. I began a book in the form of an episode guide to a fictional 1980s BBC science fiction show; my writing group seemed largely baffled but were game for it.)

There's also the term the "false document" story, which is one I'm not very familiar with, to be honest, and I'm trying to track down its precise origin and meaning. I think "false document" probably includes both epistolary fiction and what I'm trying to capture here.

The term I really liked, and had not heard before, so thanks to the PrintSF poster who suggested it, was "hermit crab fiction." If you Google "hermit crab fiction," the top hit is a locked Medium post by Dan Brotzel, but I was able to find it on the Wayback Machine. He defines them as "stories made from found verbal structures such as a shopping list or board game rules or FAQs or even a penalty charge notice," but he's not the originator of the term, which largely seems to be one used by creative writers, not literary critics. He doesn't really explain the term, but I assumed it was something like a story disguising itself by looking like something else.

But through him I was able to trace its origin, which actually comes out of creative nonfiction. Specifically, the term "hermit crab essay" was coined by Brenda Miller and Suzanne Paola in their textbook Tell It Slant: Writing and Shaping Creative Nonfiction (McGraw-Hill, 2005*). They define it as a form of lyric essay that "appropriates other forms as an outer covering, to protect its soft, vulnerable underbelly. It is an essay that deals with material that seems born without its carapace—material that is soft, exposed, and tender, and must look elsewhere to find the form that will best contain it" (111). So in its original concept, the "hermit crab" metaphor was about emotional vulnerability, something of importance to creative nonfiction, I assume, but not necessarily other genres of writing.

The emphasis on nonnarrative form isn't there in this original definition, as they say the "shells" may come "from fiction and poetry, but they also don't hesitate to armor themselves in more mundane structures, such as the descriptions in a mail-order catalog or entries in a checkbook register" (111). So if you're talking about nonfiction, a fictional form is a transformation. As the term has caught on later, though, in its use by fiction writers, it mostly seems to be about nonnarrative forms, as I said above.

They end their section on the hermit crab with this:

Think in terms of transformation. The word itself means to move across forms, to be changed. Think of the hermit crab and his soft, exposed abdomen. Think of the experiences you have that are too raw, too dangerous to write about. What if you found the right shell, the right armor? How could you be transformed? (113)

There's a big emphasis on emotional expression and protection from this transformation. To move back into science fiction, where I started, there's clearly something different at work. "Lena" and the thiotimoline stories and "Entropy War" are not about emotional vulnerability. Indeed, you might argue they're almost about the opposite. There are a lot of these hermit crab sf stories; just while writing this blog post I thought about three more I hadn't before!

I can't find any evidence of previous work on nonnarative forms in sf (which isn't to say it doesn't exist, as I haven't looked very much yet), so it seems to me something worth thinking about and theorizing further.

* At least, 2005 is the copyright date given on my library's first edition copy. The catalog entry, however, includes 2004 in the call number, and some people on the Internet claim it came out in 2003, so who knows when it was actually released.

05 November 2021

2021 Hugo Award for Best Short Story Ballot

As I said back when I posted my Best Related Work ballot, this year, I have much more time to get all my ballots up, so I'll be doing a single post for each category in which I am voting. Here is Best Short Story.

Things I Nominated

Most of my sf&f short fiction reading comes via the Hugo ballot and Neil Clarke's Best Science Fiction of the Year anthologies, so it's hard for me to nominate anything, as by the time I read it, it's too late. But I actually nominated three things in this category, though I knew none of them would make the ballot.

One was the short story "In Vivo" by Christiane Vadnais; I read this as part of the short story collection Fauna (translated by Pablo Strauss, Coach House). The collection as a whole I found hit or miss, but this story was a creepy bit of thoughtful horror. I doubt it came to the attention to the majority of the Hugo electorate, however, being an indie non-sf publisher translation of a Francophone short story collection!

The other two were both Doctor Who: Lockdown! short stories by Paul Cornell, "The Shadow Passes" (about the thirteenth Doctor and companion waiting out a disaster in isolation) and "Shadow of a Doubt" (about the thirteenth Doctor going back for Daughter-of-Mine from "Human Nature" and giving her the second chance that the tenth Doctor wouldn't). Again, I didn't expect them to make the ballot (tie-in fiction is not a preferred subgenre of the Hugo electorate, despite their tastes in film only running as far as mediocre franchises), but Cornell got the thirteenth Doctor down better than any of her screen stories have bar one, I reckon, and these were both uplifting tales in a time where we really needed them, and they were certainly among the best 2020 fiction I read in time to nominate.


6. "Little Free Library" by Naomi Kritzer

Is there a sequel to The Fellowship of the Ring? I would very much like to read it. I will leave behind anything I have for the other books, if you will give them to me. Also, I am sorry about the day I took everything. I promise I will never do this again. What would you like in trade for the next book about Frodo, if there is one?

This is a somewhat twee fantasy story about how good it is to read fantasy stories, the kind of thing that Hugo nominators and often Hugo voters evidently eat up. The basic concept is okay (people from a fantasy world love the fantasy books they find in a Little Free Library) but it went on too long and didn't go somewhere that I found very plausible.

5. "Badass Moms in the Zombie Apocalypse" by Rae Carson

So many things could go wrong. We’ve discussed all of them. Like billions of child-bearers who came before us, we’re counting on a little luck.

I read a thing by Rae Carson that explained where this story was coming from, and once I got that, I appreciated it more, but I still didn't like it a ton. This is about a group of women during a zombie apocalypse; zombies go particularly crazy for the birthing scent, and the story follows two moms hiding out as one gives birth. I see that it's working against particular tropes about women in general and mothers in particular in zombie stories... but as a story, I still didn't find it very interesting. Basically, two people hide from zombies for a while, then they get out. Its particular ranking is kind of arbitrary, but I felt the Lee story was up to something I found more interesting, but it also didn't put me off like the Kritzer. Just kind of dull.

4. "The Mermaid Astronaut" by Yoon Ha Lee

“It will hurt,” the witch said. “Certain kinds of desire always do.”

A mermaid wants to go into space, but has to give up being a mermaid to do so. Lee knows how to craft engaging prose, and I think he works better in the short form than the novel form a lot of the time, but the actual story I thought was pretty good though not great.

3. "Open House on Haunted Hill" by John Wiswell

“I’m a software engineer, and I host a skeptic podcast. You might have heard us.”

The house isn’t offended. It doesn’t believe in ghosts either.
Cute story about a haunted house, except all the haunted house wants is for a nice family to move into it. I feel like you would get more out of this if you read it from inside the horror genre, where it's clearly subverting tropes, than from outside it. As a piece of worldbuilding, it doesn't really do anything. Not the story's fault it got nominated for an sff award, I guess!

2. "A Guide for Working Breeds" by Vina Jie-Min Prasad

hey again
just wanted to ask
do you know how to be mean to humans

This is cute (so many short fiction Hugo finalists are these days, not sure how I feel about that) but enjoyable: told largely in chat logs, it's the tale of two robots, a newly activated barista and an experience killing machine; the machine is assigned to mentor the barista. The at-first-stodgy killing machines learns there is more to life than its narrow vision; the naïve barista learns to stand up for itself. I thought the resolution was a bit pat, but otherwise I enjoyed it.

1. "Metal Like Blood in the Dark" by T. Kingfisher

Eve had had the knowledge of good and evil handed to her, but Sister had to create it for herself from first principles, and it went slowly.

This at first threatens to be a cute story about robots, but this is by T. Kingfisher a.k.a. Ursula Vernon, so the fluffiness is wrapped around an iron mallet. Two naïve robots are taken advantage of, and one must invent the concept of lying in order to protect her brother. Clever and moving, and an angle I don't remember ever having seen before on a pretty common sf concept.


My attempts to predict winners are often pretty bad, especially in the short categories, where I know less of the "buzz" around various stories than I do as regards novels and films. But if I were to give it a go, I would say that the Hugo electorate 1) always loves T. Kingfisher (justifiably) and 2) always loves self-serving stories about how great it is to be a fan (less justifiably). So I would guess either "Metal Like Blood" or "Little Free Library."

As is often the case with Best Short Story of late, I find it hard to believe this is the six best stories in the genre for the year, but at least the top couple are strong and deserving winners. The past couple years, I've read Neil Clarke's The Best Science Fiction of the Year volume and found his selections much more to my taste than the Hugo electorate's. The volume covering 2020 isn't out yet, but from the table of contents, I can see that none of these stories made it in. (Of course, Clarke's book is sf-only, so three of these stories wouldn't have even been eligible.) Actually, I think none of Clarke's picks were Hugo finalists in any category, which is a first, I believe. The problem is, I suspect, that the Hugos for short fiction are biased towards what is freely available on the Internet; Clarke reads much more widely, and gets the good stuff out of Asimov's, F&SF, and all the rest that the awards don't.

19 May 2020

Hugos 2020: Dragon Pearl by Yoon Ha Lee

Trade paperback, 310 pages
Published 2020 (originally 2019)

Acquired April 2020
Read May 2020
Dragon Pearl by Yoon Ha Lee

This is a fantasy novel with space opera trappings. Basically the premise of its world is: what if Korean mythology was true... but it was the future and humanity had colonized space? Thus we have a fox spirit main character, and once she goes aboard a Space Forces starship, she meets tigers and demons and dragons serving among a predominantly human crew. The ship runs on flows of luck energy; if there's a ghost aboard, it loses battles because of the bad luck. That worldbuilding, the way the novel mixed fantasy underpinnings with sf tropes, was probably my favorite part of it.

It fits into the Star Wars archetype: Min is from a backwater planet and yearns for more. When she finds out her brother (in the Space Forces) has been branded a traitor, she follows him into space, using her fox powers to charm others and disguise herself. The beginning of the book is a bit one-thing-after-another in a way I found relentless: Min accidentally falls in with police she must play along with; she escapes from into working at a casino; she escapes from there into an under-attack spaceship; and so on. It all felt a bit too constructed, and there was little room for reflection. Things even out, though, once she disguises herself as a Space Force cadet, and makes friends that she must systematically lie to in order to continue her investigations. Her on the ship was my favorite part of the book, and where I felt it got the most interesting. In the end, things wrap up with a series of reversals-- not all of them expected, which was good-- but of course you'll be unsurprised to learn that Min triumphs. I didn't think it was great, but I did think it was fun, and unique.

16 September 2019

Review: Hexarchate Stories by Yoon Ha Lee

Trade paperback, 334 pages
Published 2019 (contents: 2012-19)

Acquired June 2019
Read July 2019
Hexarchate Stories by Yoon Ha Lee

This is a collection of stories set in the world of Lee's Machineries of Empire series (Ninefox Gambit, et al.), some previously published, several original to this collection. They kind of fall into four broad categories.

First, there are general scene-setting stories, pieces that aren't stories, really, but fragments of worldbuilding: "How the Andan Court," "Seven Views of the Liozh Entrance Exam," "Calendrical Rot." What you think of these will depend on what you think of the world of the series I suspect; I thought they were more curious than anything else, though I wish "Calendrical Rot" had served its original purpose as prologue to Ninefox, as maybe I would have understood that book more quickly.

Then there are prequel stories about the main characters of Ninefox Gambit, Shuos Jedao and Kel Cheris. These range from being just a couple pages to being full novelettes, and the Jedao ones go from the night he was conceived, through his childhood, up to key moments in his military career. Frustratingly, they are almost but not quite in chronological order. How interesting you find these will probably depend on how interested you are in Jedao. I'm not sure that learning he had a pet cat did a whole lot for me, but rereading "Extracurricular Activities" was fun, and "The Battle of Candle Arc" was the most straightforward explanation of calendrical warfare the series has ever provided. I would have liked more Cheris stories than the two we got, and honestly, I don't find Jedao terribly interesting. Give me some Kel Brezan prequels! I did really enjoy the Cheris story "Birthdays," which gives some insight into how the Hexarchate's calendar affects people's day-to-day lives.

Third, there are a few follow-ups to the original trilogy. A flash piece about Kel Brezan going to an aquarium; "Gamer's End," a second-person story about someone being trained by Jedao; and "Glass Cannon," a novella about Jedao's reunion with Cheris after the events of Revenant Gun. I wish the chronological placement of "Gamer's End" was clearer-- I couldn't figure out where it could possibly fit until I looked it up on-line after reading-- and the twist is kind of obvious. "Glass Cannon" is the longest story in the whole book, and it's an enjoyable high-stakes action piece with good character work and big implications for the future of this universe... should Lee ever choose to return to it.

Finally, there's a single story (the first in the book) that doesn't directly relate to the original trilogy, "The Chameleon's Gloves." I found this disappointing, and for a reason that relates to what makes some other of Lee's stories disappointing. "Chameleon's Gloves" sets up an interesting idea, that of a "haptic chameleon" who can perfectly imitate others' body language... but then tells a generic Star Wars-ish story where a wisecracking duo has to dispose of a gigantic superweapon, barely making use of its own concept. "Extracurricular Activities" is similar, mentioning its antagonists have a unique understanding of reality... but then telling a pretty straightforward (if enjoyable) caper story where the sfnal elements feel irrelevant. Most of the shorter pieces here are only nominally sf. Lee comes up with great worlds and great concepts, but I feel like the stories he tells make inadequate use of those worlds and concepts except as backdrop. I want the stories and concepts and plot twists to rise out of the sfnal stuff, but it doesn't consistently happen; one of the things that makes "Battle of Candle Arc" enjoyable is that it's the one Machineries of Empire space combat story where the fact that calendrical warfare is about the calendar actually feels relevant, instead of being flavor.

Anyway, this all makes it seem like I didn't like the book, but I actually did. In short form, Lee's writing is usually breezy fun, and the details of the worldbuilding are enjoyable to read about. The world of the Hexarchate is complicated and feels real, and has some interesting sfnal things to say about imperialism and oppression (it's not enough that we rule you, but you must think as we do). I would like to reread Ninefox Gambit now and see if it goes better for me than the first time.

05 September 2019

Review: The Best Science Fiction of the Year, Volume 4 edited by Neil Clarke

Trade paperback, 599 pages
Published 2019 (contents: 2018)

Acquired July 2019
Read August 2019
The Best Science Fiction of the Year, Volume 4
edited by Neil Clarke

So for the science fiction creative writing class I'm teaching this fall, I wanted a source of short fiction. A lot of the thinking behind my class has been motivated by contemplating what would have helped me at my students' stage of development. I know that when I first started mailing short sf out to magazine, I piled up rejections very quickly. Looking back, it's pretty obvious why. At age 20, my understanding of sf was largely informed by two things: film and tv (especially Star Trek) and sf novels I read when I was a kid (so mostly ones published before I was born). I had no sense at all of what science fiction in the year 2005 was like, and was just churning out sub-Star Trek stories. No wonder I got rejected! So I want my students to see what is happening in print science fiction now. We're only a week in, and it's clear they all have a strong understanding of the genre from film and tv... but even the writing majors have clearly read little written sf. To provide such an overview, I decided to assign the most recent volume of Clarke's Best Science Fiction of the Year. I've never read any of his anthologies before, but based on the stories from Clarkesworld that I've read, he has a sense of good sf that accords with my own, and he always has sensical things to say on Reddit.

I read the whole anthology the month before classes began. I was impressed. Often, when I review "best of" anthologies, I go story by story and mark each story "thumbs up" (feels like it belongs), "thumbs sideways" (I'm neutral), or "thumbs down" (I don't see why this is here), but at twenty-nine stories, this would get to be a very long review very quickly! But what I can say is that I would stack many of these up against what made the short fiction ballots for the Hugo Awards this year. S. Qiouyi Lu's "Mother Tongues," for example, is better by far than anything that did make the ballot in Best Short Story, with its clever use of the second person and typography. (It did make the longlist, but was pretty far down in fourteenth.) And even though I did really like the Best Novelette ballot this year, Ken Liu's "Byzantine Empathy" would have been a worthy addition to it. There were only two stories both on the Hugo shortlist and in this book, both strong: "When We Were Starless" by Simone Heller and "Nine Last Days on Planet Earth" by Daryl Gregory. I was also pleased to see Vandana Singh's "Requiem" here, which I nominated, but did not even make the longlist. The advantage that Clarke has over the Hugos is that he clearly reads everything, whereas the Hugos are biased toward free-to-access e-magazines. "Mother Tongues" is from Asimov's, which used to dominate the Hugo ballot but now barely gets a look in; "Byzantine Empathy" is from an original print anthology series; "Requiem" is from a single-author collection (an impressively deep cut, I felt).

I speaks highly that I put all but eleven of them on the syllabus for my class. I put every story I liked on the syllabus, and a few more that I didn't like, but felt were doing something interesting. Just some quick notes on a few other stories here:
  • Kelly Robson's "Intervention" (from the anthology Infinity's End) takes place in the same world as her Hugo-nominated Gods, Monsters, and the Lucky Peach, and like it, is good at unspooling an sf backstory.
  • Alyssa Wong's dark "All the Time We've Left to Spend" (from the anthology Robots vs. Fairies) is a great example of exploring character through an sf lens.
  • There are two different stories about people being trapped in smart houses, Madeleine Ashby's "Domestic Violence" (from Slate) and Elizabeth Bear's "Okay, Glory" (from the anthology Twelve Tomorrows), but they're very different, and both very good.
  • Vanessa Fogg's "Traces of Us" (from GigaNotoSaurus, an e-mag that just does one story per month) is an interesting example of generic crossover, as it's both a romance and hard sf.
  • I wasn't super into Nick Wolven's "Lab B-15" (from Analog), but it's a great example of how to slowly reveal a plot, where each answer just leads to more questions.
  • Yoon Ha Lee's "Entropy War" (from the anthology 2001) isn't a proper story, but a set of rules for a dice game! I think I liked it, but I am curious to see what my students will think.
There's a wide diversity of storytelling styles and subgenres here, and it convinces me that short sf is a thriving field. I also really liked Neil Clarke's introduction on the state of sf in 2018. I'm glad my gamble paid off, and I will be picking up future (and past!) volumes in this series for sure.

06 May 2019

Review: Revenant Gun by Yoon Ha Lee

Trade paperback, 427 pages
Published 2018

Acquired November 2018
Read December 2018
Machineries of Empire, Book Three: Revenant Gun
by Yoon Ha Lee

I didn't like Ninefox Gambit, but ended up really enjoying Raven Stratagem when I dutifully read it for the Hugo Awards, so I willingly picked up the final volume of the Machineries of Empire trilogy. This isn't as good as Raven Stratagem, but it is decent. Like Raven, it starts strong but kind of fizzles out, in that the narrative drive seems to dissipate as the novel goes, instead of increasing in intensity. The beginning of the book is strong, but isn't delivered on. I like the idea of one Jedao being used to bring down another Jedao, but there's not much of a reckoning out of this. The beginning also promises much out of Kel Brezan, my favorite character. He's a crashhawk (a Kel without the "formation instinct" that forces them to obey orders) but despite that he's become the leader of a breakaway government of his own. We get a few chapters of him learning to navigate this new situation, but this subplot isn't as prominent as I'd hoped.

The action in this series is always kind of obscure, but what got me invested in Raven was the characters; Revenant's characters aren't as compelling, unfortunately. An okay conclusion to an okay trilogy, but I feel like it could have been a great series. Still, I'll pick up the fourth volume, a collection of short stories, when it comes out.

03 August 2018

My 2018 Hugo Awards Ballot: Short Fiction Categories

My write-ups for the Hugos continue with the ballots I submitted to Worldcon 76 San Jose in the three short fiction categories, with commentary. In each category, I'll start with the story I placed the lowest and move up to the highest. I'll provide links when the stories are freely and legally available on-line, or to longer reviews when I wrote them.

Best Short Story


6. "Clearly Lettered in a Mostly Steady Hand" by Fran Wilde
Open the drawers of Items We've Let You Touch Because Someone Just Like You Said It Would Make Us Well. The hooks and saws, the foul tastes and that stuff that made us gag and didn't make us any better. You all wrote neat words down about each experiment anyway and that made you better.
This story is about someone going to a strange exhibit, with rooms like "A Hallway of Things People Have Swallowed," "A Radium Room," "A Room of Objects That Are Really People," "A Room of Objects That Are Very Sharp," and so on, narrated by the exhibitor. I didn't really get what the exhibit was or what the visitor to the exhibit was, or really what was going on at all. Googling reveals that I'm not alone in this standpoint, which is kind of reassuring. But it was really well written from a prose standpoint, and occasionally really insightful. But ultimately I found it unsuccessful as a story.

5. "The Martian Obelisk" by Linda Nagata
[T]he obelisk would still be standing a hundred thousand years hence and likely far longer. It would outlast all buildings on Earth. It would outlast her bloodline, and all bloodlines. It would still be standing long after the last human had gone the way of the passenger pigeon, the right whale, the dire wolf. In time, the restless Earth would swallow up all evidence of human existence, but the Martian Obelisk would remain—a last monument marking the existence of humankind[...]
This story had a great concept-- humanity is dying off, not with a massive apocalypse, but in a slow yet inevitable fading away. An architect is remotely building a monument to humanity on Mars, using the materials sent there for a colony that was never settled. It's an arresting idea, but I didn't think the story told about it quite lived up to it. The end took a swerve into optimism that felt unearned and dissonant.

4. "Fandom for Robots" by Vina Jie-Min Prasad
Pyro: Okay, is it just me, or is Cyro starting to get REALLY attractive? I swear I’m not gay (is it gay if it’s a robot) but when he slung Ellison over his shoulder and used his claw to block the Sixth Saber at the same time
This story is about a sentient robot from the 1950s named Computron that spends his time in a museum exhibit finding community when he joins anime fandom after learning there's a new anime that features a robot of similar design named Cyro. He writes fanfic and soon becomes a collaborator on a fan comic for a show called Hyperdimension Warp Record. The story is pretty slight, but it was cute and funny, though sometimes too cute. I'm glad I read it, though I would never have nominated it for a Hugo myself. I waffled on how to rank it versus "Martian Obelisk," but even though I think "Martian Obelisk" is trying to do more, "Fandom for Robots" unequivocally succeeds more at what it attempts.

3. "Carnival Nine" by Caroline M. Yoachim
My spring is on the verge of breaking, I can feel it. The maker gave my son and me the same number of turns today. Ten turns. Fewer than I’ve ever had, and the most my son has ever been given.
This was an enjoyable, captivating story, about clockwork robots whose daily actions are limited by how many turns their spring can sustain in a day, and whose lives are limited by how many times their springs can be wound. Most live for a thousand days at most. The society Caroline Yoachim describes here is fascinating, and like a lot of the best sf, it has the double effect of telling us about an alien world and telling us about ourselves. The main character has a son who is essentially disabled or maybe has a terminal illness-- his spring can sustain many fewer turns than most. A sad-but-poignant tale, well told.

2. "Sun, Moon, Dust" by Ursula Vernon
“I mean, we could conquer the neighbors, but that seems a little unkind. I trade seeds with them every spring. Their goat covered mine last month, and they didn’t ask for payment because I’m just getting started here. Well, and you can’t really keep goats from doing that, but…” He trailed off. Something about the angle of Dust’s head made him think that the warrior was not interested in the details of goat husbandry.
A really simple story: a farmer inherits an enchanted sword from his grandmother. It carries the spirits of three ancient warriors within it (the Sun, Moon, and Dust of the title), who give him advice, but as the above excerpt shows, the kind of advice three ancient warriors give is not the kind of advice a farmer needs. It's beautifully told, both funny and touching, and it has something to say about how we find nobility in what we choose to do. It didn't feel quite as substantial as Ursula Vernon's novelette winning novelette was last year, but it was still excellent.

1. "Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience™" by Rebecca Roanhorse
“Our last name’s not Trueblood,” she complains when you tell her about your nom de rêve.

“Nobody wants to buy a Vision Quest from a Jesse Turnblatt,” you explain. “I need to sound more Indian.”
I waffled here. Sometimes the top story makes itself obvious; sometimes less so. I probably could have placed this anywhere in the top three. This second-person story is about an Indigenous man who guides tourists through VR "vision quests" or whatever other "Indian" experience they desire; as the quotation above alludes to, he's forced to perform his own self, to fake aspects of himself to be more "authentic." This had a little bit of a sting in the tale that gave it some added pizazz, and eventually caused me to elevate it above "Sun, Moon, Dust," which was good but maybe a little too... proper? I dunno.

Best Novelette


6. "The Secret Life of Bots" by Suzanne Palmer
“Your logics are intact?”

“I believe so. But if they were not, would I know? It is a conundrum,” 4340 said.
In this cute but predictable story, a maintenance robot chases down a malfunction on a warship and ends up proving its heroism. Like I said, it's cute, but like I said, it's predictable, and I do not find cute but predictable stories particularly award-worthy-- this doesn't really do anything noteworthy or unexpected with its premise, as well-executed as it is. There are a lot of cute robot stories on the ballot this year (cf. "Fandom for Robots" above and All Systems Red below) for some reason.

5. "Children of Thorns, Children of Water" by Aliette de Bodard
A child. The shape of a child. And—Thuan’s memory was unfortunately excellent on details like this—not something made of flesh and muscles and bones, but a construct of parquet wood, prickling with the thorns of brambles
If I've learned anything from reading Hugo finalists, it's that short fantasy fiction without much exposition is not for me. This reminded me a lot of last year's The Jewel and Her Lapidary, in that I never quite understood what was going on or what was at stake, and therefore it was impossible for me to get into the story. I ranked this above "Secret Life of Bots," though, because I felt like it was aiming for something interesting, even if I didn't understand what that was, although as a reading experience, I probably got more out of "Secret Life."

4. "Wind Will Rove" by Sarah Pinsker
People on Earth wrote about blue skies because they'd stood under grey ones. They wrote about night because there was such a thing as day. Songs about prison are poignant because the character knew something else beforehand and dreamed of other things ahead. Past and future are both abstractions now.
In contrast to many other stories on the ballot, this felt like very traditional sf in some ways. It's about a generation ship, which I feel like is a classic staple of the genre that people rarely write stories about anymore, perhaps because we ceased to believe in them. Pinsker's story explores the idea of cultural memory in an environment where people work really hard to remember the past, arguably at the expense of the present. Some good writing and good scenes and good details, but I felt like it was too long, in that I got the point long before the narrator did. Also I'm not convinced fiddling will really be this important in the space future.

3. "A Series of Steaks" by Vina Jae-Min Prasad
Forging beef is similar to printmaking—every step of the process has to be done with the final print in mind.
I enjoyed this story, which has an intriguing premise: in a world where meat and other organic compounds can be printed, you get people devoted to "forging" meat, to making it seem like you're eating meat from a real animal when in fact it has been printed as well. It's an enjoyable story, but it didn't completely grab me; I kind of wanted more to be done with the premise, as it felt like there were sections of the story when the protagonist could have been forging basically anything. But I did really enjoy how it all came together in the end.

2. "Small Changes Over Long Periods of Time" by K. M. Szpara
“I’m old, Finley. Too old. I’ve followed human history for millennia. I’ve met believers and skeptics. Warm beds and pitchforks. Somehow, I never expected assimilation.” He relaxes onto his side, rests his head on his hand. “Never expected to go mainstream.”
This is a story of a man becoming a vampire, seduced by an elder vampire in a somewhat-in-the-future society where vampirism is a legally recognized condition. The other wrinkle here is that the man is trans, and the revitalizing effects of vampire blood begin to bring out his female sexual characteristics once more-- though some of his male ones are enhanced, too. It's well written, occasionally funny, often very dark with a streak of amorality, but that's a mark of its genre, I think. I didn't quite get the ending, otherwise I might have rated it higher.

1. "Extracurricular Activities" by Yoon Ha Lee
Since I expect your eating options will be dismal, I have sent you goose fat rendered from the great-great-great-etc.-grandgosling of your pet goose when you were a child. (She was delicious, by the way.) Let me know if you run out and I’ll send more.
This story is a prequel to Yoon Ha Lee's Machineries of Empire series; Shuos Jedai goes on an undercover mission to rescue captured soldiers. Compared to the grim Machineries stories, it's surprisingly breezy and fun. It's a pretty straightforward action story, albeit with Lee's attention to cultural and character detail. (We don't learn much about the heptarchate or its calendar, except by implication, though, because Jedai spends most of his time outside of it. There's an implication the alien race has an unusual conception of reality, but not much is done with it.) Like in Raven Stratagem, flashbacks to training sessions are used to reveal much of this. I don't know how much the story would do for a novice reader, but if you've read the Machineries stories there's some real charm in seeing Jedai-- a notorious genocidal maniac by the time those stories are set-- being sent care packages by a doting mother.

Best Novella


7. River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey

The best part of this novella is the two-page foreword by the author that explains that there once was an idea to import hippopotamuses into the Louisiana bayou to relieve a meat shortage and also fight an invasive aquatic plant. This book takes place in an alternate timeline where that really happened. Alas, the actual book is not particularly good. For some reason Gailey transposes the hippo plan from 1910 to 1857, and introduces a number of anachronisms into the book's setting of 1889. The book's characters never grabbed me-- I feel like the characterization came from the this-will-be-good-as-a-movie school of writing-- and the plotting was murky to me.

6. No Award

Everything else on this list was engaging and interesting on some level even if I didn't like it as much as I wanted to, but stories I consider "not particularly good" don't seem like stories that ought to be winning Hugo Awards.

5. Binti: Home by Nnedi Okorafor

The Binti books, as I've alluded to in my reviews of them, are a little frustrating, as I feel like I'm reading the foundation of a great story, but in actuality a mediocre story, leaving me with something of an in-between tale. I like the milieu a lot, but Home is a kind-of-cliché the-estranged-child-returns-home story crossed with a lot of exposition about Binti's secret heritage, then it ends on a cliffhanger. I hoped for more out of this book and this series based on what I'd heard.

4. Down Among the Sticks and Bones by Seanan McGuire

Last year, Seanan McGuire's Every Heart a Doorway came in first for Best Novella, and I myself ranked it second. It was one of those books that puts a clever spin on a genre, about a boarding school for children who had participated in portal fantasy stories and then returned to the real world and were having trouble adjusting. Down Among the Sticks and Bones is a prequel to Every Heart, about two of the characters and their adventures. As a result, I found it considerably less interesting-- Every Heart plays with the genre, but Down Among just is the genre, just is a portal fantasy. That's not necessarily bad, but it does mean the story has to do something else interesting instead, and I didn't really see that here. (Plus a lot of what happens we were already told in Every Heart.) I think portal fantasies work well as tantalizing backstories for the characters in the "Wayward Children" series, but I'm not sure I'm interested in actually seeing those backstories play out. I hope future installments of this series return to the school itself as a setting. The very self-conscious narrative voice McGuire uses eventually began to grate on me, as well. A bit too precious.

3. The Black Tides of Heaven by JY Yang

I struggled to rank this versus All Systems Red. The Black Tides of Heaven is certainly more ambitious, providing an overview of the lives of a pair of identical twins in a fantasy world, both with magical powers, one with the gift of prophecy. I enjoyed it... but I never felt myself drawn into the characters or their world. So while I think on concept it's probably worthier than a pretty straightforward action thriller, on execution, All Systems Red is the more successful novella.

2. All Systems Red by Martha Wells

This was fun. Written from the first-person perspective of a security cyborg, it's a quick but well-done action story with a distinct narrative voice. The security cyborg calls itself a "Murderbot," but all it really wants to do is watch crappy television and avoid human contact. So basically it's an introvert millennial with super-strength. The voice of the main character is the basic selling point of the book-- I read it while waiting with my wife for an oil change and I kept reading her little bits of it-- but the action/conspiracy story is pretty good, too, and there's a genuine sense of suspense, struggle, and consequently perseverance at the climax. Perhaps nothing groundbreaking, but on the other hand, almost exactly what you might want out of Tor.com's novella program. (Martha Wells used to write Stargate Atlantis and Star Wars tie-in novels; as a former tie-in author myself, I always find it nice when one makes good.)

1. "And Then There Were (N-One)" by Sarah Pinsker

This was the only thing on this whole page I read before it became a Hugo nominee, thanks to a recommendation on the blog Rocket Stack Rank. I loved it, from the clever title onwards. Sarah Pinsker goes to a convention-- only all the participants are versions of her from various alternate universes. And then there's a murder, so she's the victim and all the suspects! It's clever, fun, funny (satire on conventions always goes over well for me), ruminative, and kind of deep. I was surprised to realize it was a novella, because I devoured it in one sitting and then immediately began recommending it to everyone I know. I even ended up doing a guest lecture on it to a colleague's class, when she asked if I could recommend a story that was 1) sf, 2) postmodern, 3) American, and 4) short, for her literature survey course.


Overall Thoughts

Last year I wrote, "I was probably more frustrated with Short Story and Novelette than any other Hugo categories." I wouldn't call myself "frustrated" per se, but I did find the short fiction categories kind of weak. Though I liked my top three in Short Story, I don't think any of them nailed it, and I think the hit rate in Novelette was slightly worse. "And Then There Were (N-One)" did nail it in Novella, but beneath that, I felt that this batch of novellas was of lower quality than last year's.

All of the finalists bar one came from either free Internet magazines or the Tor.com novellas program. I do have a suspicion that the advantages both have in the popularly-voted Hugos lead to the omission of other quality work from the ballot. "Wind Will Rove" is the only story on this page from a traditional print publication. Like, River of Teeth cannot be among the best six novellas of the year. Though, Uncanny is clearly doing something right, with six finalists across the eighteen stories here originating from their "pages." (Of course, I'm part of the problem here; the only contemporary short sf I read are Hugo finalists, so I'm sure not nominating stuff published in Asimov's or Analog!)

Even with Nicholas Whyte's strawpoll, I find it hard to gauge what will win in any of these categories. I don't quite buy that it will be "Fandom for Robots" in Short Story-- it's too cute-- but then I don't know what it will be instead. I will tentatively guess "Wind Will Rove" for Novelette based on Nicholas's strawpoll. It will certainly be All Systems Red (it's very popular) or "N-One" (it's very good) for Novella. I don't know which of those two it will be, but by God it ought be "N-One."

27 June 2018

Hugos 2018: Raven Stratagem by Yoon Ha Lee

Trade paperback, 355 pages
Published 2017

Acquired April 2018
Read June 2018
Machineries of Empire, Book Two: Raven Stratagem
by Yoon Ha Lee

I completely bounced off Ninefox Gambit, the book to which this is a sequel, and picked it up with a feeling of undertaking a dreaded duty when it was revealed as a finalist for the 2018 Hugo Awards. Well, I don't know if it was me or the book, but as I read it, I found myself enjoying it more and more, and then once a nice twist came along around the two-thirds mark, I was definitely on board. Raven Stratagem picks up only loosely from the end of Ninefox Gambit: basically the dead genocidal general Shuos Jedao has taken over the body of naval captain Kel Charis, and outside of "them," no other characters recur between the two books. (As far as I noticed anyway; my memories of Ninefox are a little vague.) Jedao is never a viewpoint character; the focal characters of Raven are the general of the fleet Jedao takes over, a personnel officer from that fleet who defies his takeover, and the leader of the Shuos faction.

Whereas I felt Ninefox focused on space combat that might as well be magic, Raven focuses much more on character and politics. I especially really liked Kel Brezan, the personnel officer. The Kel, the military faction of the hexarchate, are all ingrained with "formation instinct," which causes them to obey any order given. But Brezan is a "crashhawk," a Kel whose formation instinct is very weak. So on the one hand, he can defy the unlawful orders of Jedao, but on the other hand, in doing so, he reveals himself as a failure of a Kel. Dutiful and loyal, but self-deprecating for not being dutiful and loyal enough: that's my kind of character. The flashbacks peppered throughout to the various characters' training are especially interesting, as they reveal both personality and the rules and customs of the six factions of the hexarchate.

There are two things I wish for more of: I like the idea that belief in an exotic math system allows you to use it to devastating effect (shades of Christopher H. Bidmead's block transfer computation there), but why belief in a math system is dependent on using a particular calendar remains frustratingly obscure. Though maybe spelling it out would be even less convincing! And also once the twist comes two-thirds of the way in, things proceed a little too perfunctorily; the ending wasn't quite climactic enough to live up to the twist. But still, I enjoyed it.

If you didn't like Ninefox Gambit, I recommend still giving Raven Stratagem a try. I don't know if Raven is actually better than Ninefox, or if I just acclimated to the world more. Or if maybe reading Ninefox near the end of my 2017 Hugos reading just meant I was burnt out by the time I got to it. I'd be curious to reread Ninefox now in any case, but I will also be ordering Revenant Gun to finish off the Machineries of Empire trilogy.

08 August 2017

Hugos 2017: Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee

Trade paperback, 317 pages
Published 2016

Acquired May 2017
Read July 2017
Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee

This book was weird and difficult to follow. I had known that would be the case going in, and I had even read some explanations of it on /r/printSF beforehand... and I still had no idea what was going on. It's space opera, but battle has something to do with people's beliefs in calendar systems? It didn't matter how many explanations I read, I just had no idea what was actually happening when people fought in this book. It's deliberately disorienting, which can be interesting, but Yoon Ha Lee did not pull it off successfully, just leaving me frustrated and eager to get the whole thing over with as I increasingly lost interest. If I don't know how your world works, it's hard for me to care who controls it.

Next Week: A last attempt to solve the three-body problem in Death's End!