We have arrived all the way back at the first book awards I cover all year! This is very exciting for all of us. The Nebulas intro is usually pretty short: they’re a much more professional situation than, say, The Hugos1, and so there’s little enough controversy2 to deal with.
1 which I’m not going to hijack the Nebulas to talk about but will put in a footnote: there’s a higher-than-average likelihood those are going to be a total shitshow this year, and boy oh boy am I not looking forward to it. I hope to be wrong, but if I don’t write up the Hugos this year, that will be the reason why.
2 that said, there was a Baen editor who either aggressively misread or fundamentally misunderstood a spreadsheet, and somehow decided that meant everyone was in Tor’s pocket which, you know, happens basically every year at this point.
This year they’ve implemented maybe my favorite award they’ve ever implemented: the Infinity award, which they’re giving to people that passed away before they could receive the Damon Knight Memorial Grand Master Award. They’re giving it to Octavia Butler, which is also great. Greatest of all: rather than mailing an award to a descendant or estate-handler, they’re making a donation to a cause supported by the author in question. In this case, and in cases where the recipient’s wishes cannot be discerned, they’re going to give it to the Octavia Butler scholarship.
You know how sometimes when you’re genuinely happy about something it’s hard not to sound sarcastic in text? Yeah, that’s kind of how I feel.
As far as the rest of it goes: if I’m being honest, I have not read (as far as I can remember) a word of Noble Ohioan Robin McKinley’s work3, which is somewhat embarrassing, as I can’t remember if there has been a grandmaster I haven’t known anything by4. I am familiar with whatever aspect of her husband’s work made it intact into the animated The Flight of Dragons, but that’s, you know, not only a stretch, but a sexist one.
3 she lives in the UK tho, which is fine.
4 although I did forget that Eugie Foster had died in, I think, the first one of these writeups I ever did, which was pretty embarrassing.
Oh, and they made sure that their scripts and stuff were all completed before the Writers’ Strike started, which is nice.
Anyhoo. Awards! Time to talk about ‘em!
Nebula Award for Game Writing
Dungeons and Dragons is much cooler than any video game, even huge ones written by George RR Martin. The end.
THE RIGHTFUL WINNER: Ajit A. George, F. Wesley Schneider, Justice Ramin Arman, Dominique Dickey, Basheer Ghouse, Alastor Guzman, D. Fox Harrell, T.K. Johnson, Felice Tzehuei Kuan, Surena Marie, Mimi Mondal, Mario Ortegón, Miyuki Jane Pinckard, Pam Punzalan, Erin Roberts, Stephanie Yoon, and Terry H. Romero, Journeys Through the Radiant Citadel
Ray Bradbury Nebula Award for Outstanding Dramatic Presentation
This may very well be the strongest Bradbury field since I started doing this5. I’m happy about any of this. The Sandman was wonderful, and I look very much forward to the next season, even if it’s the last one. I liked everything about it, but this isn’t an award for how much a guy in Denver likes your tv show. It breaks my heart to have to rule out Severance and Our Flag Means Death also6, but I’m glad they’re getting more seasons so I can be happy about them in years without this year’s top contenders. I want, actively, for Nope to have won a bunch of awards. I really do. I love Nope. The usual hype around Jordan Peele movies didn’t seem to carry this one all the way through, but it should have. Unfortunately, it’s not going to make it here. The Andor episode “One Way Out” is, as far as it goes, a perfectly-written piece of television. The number of things – thoughtful, emotional, exciting, things – that they cram into this script is incredible, and the bit at the end, which I will, for my sins, not actually spoil here, is one of the all-time great Star Wars moments. Unfortunately, it is only part of a story. Everything Everywhere All at Once already has a huge pile of awards, but the problem is: it deserves them, and it especially deserves awards for science fiction story-telling, which is what we have here. That said, maybe I’ll dust off my AO3 account and make some Waymond Wang/Cassian Andor buddy fiction.
5 which is nine years
6 especially since if Claudia O’Doherty got mad at me I’d….oh wait, I forgot it’s not that kind of website.
THE RIGHTFUL WINNER: Dan Kwan & Daniel Scheinert, Everything Everywhere All at Once
Andre Norton Nebula Award for Middle Grade and Young Adult Fiction
Boy, some years the Bradbury category is a fucking drag, and by the time I get here I’m basically ready to hang myself, as though some soldiers had just taken my goose7. As it is, I’m pretty happy by being remembered that there was even, by some miracle, multiple good television shows this year. But, you know, I am dashed upon the rocks of the fact that I still don’t much like any of this. Oh, it’s fine. I’m not going to wish for any of it to be gone mostly, but, you know. I’m deeply not in the audience for most of this, so adjust the following accordingly.
7 where my Isaac Babel heads at?
Maya MacGregor’s The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester is squarely and wildly not for me. It trucks heavily in being a sort of fictional true-crime vibe that runs heavily on descriptions of clothes and references to David Bowie. If this is your bag, then you’re in luck: it’s also zippy, and sets up a pretty good mystery as far as it goes. I’ll probably never think about it again.
Deva Fagan’s The Mirrorwood seemed twisty, and had a genuinely interesting way of dealing with faerie-style magic. I liked the fantasy parts of it, but thought that it moved sort of mechanically from bit to bit, and felt more like a series of scenes than a story.
Jenn Reese’s Every Bird a Prince has some cool monsters, and I’m generally in favor of impatient birds as characters. It also does an excellent job of intertwining the main character’s identity struggles (sexuality, presentation, the sorts of things that thirteen year olds are sort of surprised by biology into thinking about all at once) with the identity struggles that come with, say, trying to communicate with birds and eliminate a supernatural evil. Certainly it’s not the first to do so, but it does it well.
K. Tempest Bradford, Noble Ohioan and pre-eminent Angry Black Woman, is a wonderful writer, and Ruby Finley vs. the Interstellar Invasion skews a little younger than the other books here and, I think, that helped me like it. Of course, I would have also been more primed to like it if she had titled it my idea, which would have been Ruby Finley Absolutely Wrecks a Fucking Golf Course in a Robot Bug, but that gives away a scene toward the end and has a cuss word in it, so I see why she refuses to respond to my letters. Anyway, it’s good, but very middle grade.
H.A. Clarke’s The Scratch Girls surprised me by how much I liked it. It’s a sequel to a book I haven’t read, for starters8. It has a coven, a cranky book, a lot of crunchy, compelling gender and sexual identity stuff9, a very cool protagonist (with an even cooler dad) and a lot of heart. You could do a lot worse, is what I’m saying.
8 although I almost certainly will at this point
9 for all that I’m a giant grump who hates everything all the time, I do like how many of these are presenting their narratives as containing genders and sexual identities that are not, necessarily, portrayed all the time in mainstream YA and middle grade fiction. Great job, everybody.
THE RIGHTFUL WINNER: H.A. Clarke, The Scratch Girls
Short Story
This was a genuinely terrific year for this category – the stories selected here are uniformly excellent. It is a shame, then, that I suspect there’s a 900 pound gorilla in there. Oh, and a rare bit of misfortune for Our Hero.
Ai Jiang’s “Give Me English” appeared in Fantasy & Science Fiction, a magazine I no longer read, and for which it is extremely difficult to track down back issues at all. Since I am not a member of the SFWA, I have not read it. I hear it’s great, it sounds like it’s right up my alley (language as currency), alas and alack. Hopefully it gets reprinted somewhere.
John Wiswell’s “DIY” is as joyful and exuberant as all of Wiswell’s work, and I’m absolutely here for any story about someone figuring out how to do an end-run around the moneyed powers that be. I’m going to take this opportunity, also, to address that I am – because the world is terrible and out to get me, personally – forced to call it “Cozy”, but I would like to also state that I prefer the much less stupid “nicetimes”. Anyway, “DIY” is a story about kindness and sharing and not giving rich people any more money. Can’t go wrong there.
Suzan Palumbo’s “Douen” is a ghost story from the point of view of the ghost. It covers a lovely and generous emotional arc, and finishes up nicely. If I seem like I have less to say about it than some of the other things here, that’s kind of the case: I liked it, I’ll read it again if it pops up again, and I’m happy it’s in the world.
Ian Muneshawar’s “Dick Pig” also concerns a haunting, although now that I’ve mentioned the two in juxtaposition I feel gross. Anyway, “Dick Pig” is, as the name would indicate, the best kind of gross. It’s also a genuinely scary haunted house story, creating a truly remarkable amount of tension and then getting out as weirdly as it came in. This is the first I’m hearing of Muneshawar, and I’m absolutely looking forward to more.
I feel like Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki’s “Destiny Delayed” is as good as all of his other work – more hypercapitalist Nigeria, more people having to make heartbreaking choices as a result of the aforementioned hypercapitalism (in this case they’re literally mortgaging their futures) – but also feels like it’s opening up more. I’ve enjoyed all of Ekpeki I’ve read, but this really feels better in some way I can’t actually quite put my finger on. I’m genuinely torn between this and the next one as the rightful winner, but if you want the one I enjoyed the most, it’s definitely, absolutely this one.
Samantha Mills’s “Rabbit Test” is the aforementioned gorilla10. It’s already also nominated for a Locus award, it’s almost-certainly a lock for the Hugo11, it’s going places on a rocket. In a future where implanted technology monitors all aspects of a woman’s health and anti-pregnancy measures are all illegal, a woman finds herself pregnant. The story hops around in time to talk about the history of combating pregnancy, and then combating the combatting of pregnancy. It’s done astonishingly well, it’s timely and pertinent, and it’s probably going to win everything all around. And it almost certainly should. But definitely also read “Destiny Delayed”12
10 Some of you may find that sentence taxonomically confusing, to which I say: sometimes rabbits are gorillas. Deal with it.
11 or would be, in a year where anyone knew what the fuck was happening with the Hugos. Again: maybe it’s all fine! Here’s hoping!
12 and “Dick Pig”
THE RIGHTFUL WINNER: Samantha Mills, “Rabbit Test”
Novelette
Every year it remains the case that the novelettes that are actually long short stories work better than the ones that are very short novellas. This is, I feel, a distinction that I would have to spend some time and effort into figuring out why I believe it13, but year over year, I find that it’s true. Which, of course, means it could also be confirmation bias. Anyway. Some good material in here but, as with basically every year, this is the weakest field of the bunch.
13 so, you know, expect to see a post about it or whatever
Wole Talabi’s “A Dream of Electric Mothers” is about a literalization of a sort of collective unconscious (that is, turning the collective memories of a place into a thing you can actually ask questions), and the temptation that offers a woman who has experienced the death of her mother. It’s a fine story – Talabi’s prose is always worth it – that I didn’t quite engage with as well as I would have liked.
SB Divya’s “Two Hands Wrapped in Gold” finds Divya in the fairytale-retelling game, this time it’s King Midas. I’m always impressed (and, indeed, actively look forward to) Divya’s stories because she’s always super-mindful of including realistic class depictions in her work, which I love14. If I’m a little lukewarm on the fairytale thing, I suppose that’s not her fault. It’s good, and it does a lot of interesting things. If you’re more inclined to like that sort of thing, I bet you’ll be happy.
14 I feel like I haven’t shut up about Runtime since I read it a long time ago, but if I haven’t told you to read Runtime, you should go do it right now. You’ve probably already read Machinehood.
John Chu’s “If You Find Yourself Speaking to God, Address God with the Informal You” is a lovely “Superheroes in the real world” story that has more surprises than I would have thought, and manages to find some new corners of the interactions between normal people and super-powered people to shine a light on.
SL Huang’s “Murder by Pixel: Crime and Responsibility in the Digital Darkness” is about what happens when people create AIs to themselves enact vigilante justice (in the form of online harassment). It’s a pretty good story with obvious grounding in the current debates about the future of AI and what we can do about it.
Marie Vibbert’s “We Built This City” concerns a post-Earth city on Venus, where the environment is corrosive to the huge dome that protects the city, and thus, it is important that it be cleaned constantly. The usual corporate malfeasance ensues, and the story concerns the very real concerns of the people who very much need their jobs. It’s another in this year’s string of stories about trying to find a way out of the brutalizing reality of hypercapitalism. It’s almost like there’s something in the air… Anyway, great job, Vibbert.
Natalia Theodoridou’s “The Prince of Salt and the Ocean’s Bargain” unfolds slowly, as a story about a man made of salt and the people he draws to him. It, disguised as a folk story, grows to contain thoughts about memory, the nature of the truth, and even what a story is and why we tell them, and it does so through a consistently-entertaining plot that is, despite the stuff I said a second ago about all the thinking, surprisingly light.
THE RIGHTFUL WINNER: Natalia Theodoridou, “The Prince of Salt and the Ocean’s Bargain”
Novella
I didn’t read a lot of novellas last year, so I’m kind of stuck with what’s been nominated here as a sample set, but most of these are…fine? This is a field with a clear winner, which does happen most of the time, but in this case there’s really only one of these I would even believe could win. Maybe I’m just grouchy. Perhaps surprisingly, then, it’s worth noting that over half of these books are nicetimes15, including a couple that are surprisingly so.
15 you got me to type the other thing once, don’t make me do it again.
Jordan Kurella’s I Never Liked You Anyway is…Look. If a comedic Orpheus and Eurydice retelling that substitutes (egregious and, frankly, ridiculous) references for character-building and takes place in literally two goddamned schools, in two different timelines is something you’d like, may I suggest: maybe no it isn’t? I suppose I’ll try again next time.
CL Polk’s Even Though I Knew the End is another in what is now a very long string of things Polk has written that I thought were very well crafted, explored an interesting way of constructing a love story, and also were entirely, deeply not my thing. That said, the noir bits of this really brought it up ahead of most of Polk’s work, and it’s a pretty effective angels vs. demons story.
Kelly Robson’s High Times in the Low Parliament is the second of the books that deals in outright comedy16, as most Robson does. Taking a government of fairies that is going to let everyone in the country fall into the ocean if they can’t pass a vote, and thrusting into it our intrepid scribe, who has to write all of this down. The story gets a little shaggy (and occasionally seems to forget what story it is), but the ending is strong, and some of the scenes are about as funny as anything I’ve read in a long time.
16 I didn’t like I Never Liked You Anyway, but it was, in fact, a comedy.
RSA Garcia’s Bishop’s Opening is a science fiction story that feels like a fantasy story, and also uses chess as a metaphor for an entirely different chess metaphor, which is great. Also, the title is also a pun, which is also great. Beyond the wordplay, we have a pretty good story about building a family under bad circumstances, complete with surprise reunions, happy entanglements and unexpected love.
Becky Chambers, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy is the clear standout here. When A Psalm for the Wild Built came out, I got to use this space to confess that I love long dialogue stories almost as much as I love curious robots. By situating this story more firmly within world, I thought it was an even better way to get to know the characters and I hope that these two platonic peripatetic pals continue to perambulate through more permutations ok I’m done doing this. I hope there are more of these books.
THE RIGHTFUL WINNER: Becky Chambers, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy
Novel
I’ll say this for the field of nominees here, which is pretty good all around regardless: they have very little in common with each other, stylistically or formally. I was a fan of all of these, to varying degrees, and have very little complaint, which is, you know, nice, but also means there’s not much to say here that’s original.
Travis Baldree’s Legends & Lattes finds an adventurer hanging up her sword and inventing a coffee shop. It’s funny, and light, and has enough excitement to keep it going, but of course, excitement is very much not what we’re doing here. Most of this (see above) I can avoid using the c-word, but damn if this isn’t cozy. I recommend reading it, but I don’t think it’s the winner here.
Ray Nayler’s The Mountain in the Sea is a real roller-coaster of a consideration here. The ideas – about the nature of consciousness, and ecology, and how to best interact with those things (that is, humans and the environment) – are first rate, and the bits where he’s writing about the ideas themselves – the debates, the “excerpts” from books in-world, some of the narration – is great17. The story doesn’t seem to hold up under it – it’s too complicated, and I found that the parts that were necessary to drive the narrative were kind of a chore compared to the parts where various beings try to decide if various other beings are conscious or not.
17 it’s great in the same way that, say, his New Scientist pieces (the only other things I’ve read by him) are great
T. Kingfisher’s Nettle & Bone continues Ursula Vernon’s hot streak of getting it right every time. It plays largely with the traditional three-lady structure18, and then having it interact with some truly inventive spellcasting on a quest to save a sister. It lacks the revelatory complete-overturning that Kingfisher is sometimes capable of, but it does possess one (1) demon-possessed chicken, which I feel is a pretty good trade-off. It’s wildly entertaining, but less thoughtful than the last few.
18 you know the one. Weatherwax/Ogg/Garlick
Nicola Griffith’s Spear and Tamsyn Muir’s Nona the Ninth are sort of co-runners up here. Spear is a retelling of Sir Percival, with somewhat less “sir” and somewhat more, well, story, honestly. I haven’t read anything by Griffith before now19, which usually makes me feel kind of stupid and, now that I have read Griffith, makes me feel really stupid. Anyway, it’s great, and I’m shocked and amazed by it. Someday I will come up with a taxonomical distinction that explains what historical fiction I like and what historical fiction I don’t, but this is not that day.
19 I’ve been meaning to read Slow River for literally ever (like, actually since the nineties – quite possibly actually since it came out), and I’m not entirely sure what came between me and Hild, but until now this has been a tragic blind spot.
Tamsyn Muir’s Nona the Ninth is a surprising continuation of the Locked Tomb books. Tonally and stylistically very different from the first two, this moves the action out into a sort of wider world, and, in the usual Locked Tomb fashion, is twisty and confusing the whole time until it locks into place. It’s impressive, but is also, of course, a book in the middle of a series, and so has only as much story of its own as it needs to bear up. As part of the whole story, it’s great, as a thing that one would read on its own, it’s, well, twisty and confusing, and definitely pays it all off, but you have to get all the way to the end for it to do so.
When RF Kuang’s The Poppy War came up in this space, and I read it, I said was that I liked a bunch of stuff about Kuang’s writing20, but that it seemed to wallow in the imagery it was using to impel its story in the way that activists sometimes use the most horrific images to forward their causes. Babel is no less subtle, but is two things The Poppy War wasn’t: 1) it’s surprisingly fun for how heavy it gets21, 2) gets to the point of the characters’ interaction with their suffering more quickly and 3) makes its points loudly and clearly. It’s the third point that I most enjoyed: it’s the thing that you’ll hear the worst person you know who reads fantasy point out as a problem22, but man, I don’t know. If the Poppy War was compelling like mid-eighties Henry Rollins (dark, brooding, getting a little too into the flagellation, not quite making all the points it thinks it is), then Babel is like early-eighties Henry Rollins: unsubtle, effective, satisfying. Babel is great for all the reasons I thought it would be, but it’s also fun and vivifying for reasons I didn’t necessarily think it would be. If, as FN20 explains, I expected to be a fan of Kuang’s work someday, well, that day has arrived.
20 what I said was: “R.F. Kuang’s The Poppy War has a lot of things going for it. She writes fantastic prose, and the recasting of the Sino-Japanese war as an element in a god-magic inflected invasion story is pretty great…Still and all, the words and the character-building are good enough that I fully expect to someday be a fan of Kuang’s work. Just not this one. (the elision is the bit where I complain in detail about the relentless grimdark and also the predictability of the plot). I would go on to mention that it was clearly well-written but not my thing in, like, four other things: it got nominated for a whole tonne of awards and was included on the NPR list. Anyway, there’s no shortage of me saying the one thing I felt about The Poppy War, is what I’m saying.
21 especially if you’re into the micro-etymologies that are given as part of how cognates compel the magic – also, the magic system in Babel rules.
22 ask the worst person you know who reads fantasy about it and if they manage to go through the whole conversation without using the word “preachy” to describe it, I will send you a dollar.
THE RIGHTFUL WINNER: RF Kuang, Babel
Ohio Needs a Train 