Torque Control

London Meeting: Ken Slater Commemoration

Tonight’s London Meeting is a bit different:

Remembering a significant figure in the BSFA and British SF fandom, and commemorating the 50th anniversary of the BSFA. Peter Weston, Bridget Wilkinson and Rob Hansen will talk about their memories of Ken. Other attendees are encouraged to contribute.

See also. But the venue is the same as usual: The Antelope, 22 Eaton Terrace, London, SW1W 8EZ. The closest tube station is Sloane Square, and a map is here. The meeting is free and open to anyone who’s interested, and the interview will start at 7pm, although there’ll be people around in the bar from 6, and possibly from a bit earlier than that.

A Discussion about Matter, part two

As promised, here’s the second installment of that discussion about Iain M Banks’ new book, Matter. Part one is here, and part three will be over at the Velcro City Tourist Board tomorrow. Enjoy!


Niall: And so to question three, the big one: what did you think of Matter?

Jonathan: Matter put me in mind of that Helix column by John Barnes where he argued that all artistic movements and genres passing through three phases. You have the initial phase when ideas are laid down, then the second phase when you get the great masters of the genre and then the third phase when it’s all about being a virtuoso, about not challenging the limits of your genre but rather producing art that relentlessly pursues beauty as defined by the genre with no interest in innovation or change.

In those terms, Matter is not just a virtuoso work of SF, it’s also a virtuoso Culture book.

The previous three Culture books were more “difficult” because rather than following the formula laid down by the early Culture novels, Banks went out of his way to examine the Culture from new perspectives. Matter has no difficulty. In fact, it’s probably the most accessible Culture novel since The Player of Games. The concepts in it are all familiar and were developed in previous books, a lot of the characters are familiar and really there’s nothing new in it. It’s just a well constructed Culture novel. There are neat character arcs, big plot lines and quests for those readers who want escapism. Matter will probably be one of the most commercially successful Culture books ever written.

However, I couldn’t help but feel that Banks has just stopped trying to be clever and has settled down into a commercially successful franchise that will doubtless keep him in single malts and Porsche Boxters until the end of his days. His fans will adore the book, as will most SF fans looking for a bit of adventure with some witty remarks but personally, I thought Matter was disappointing in its complete lack of ambition.

James: I thought Matter was disappointing, and not just in lack of ambition, but more generally. Maybe it was my expectations? To me it read like an overlong fantasy epic, and when it finally got going it ended. I want to see more Culture, not the societies they’re messing with, or the aliens they’re sharing the galaxy with. I want Minds, Ships, SC. Culture stuff. Basically, I want Excession.

I also thought it was far too long. Banks was obviously having fun with his mega-BDO and pretending to be a fantasy writer, but I got bored. Compare that to something as huge as the Night’s Dawn Trilogy, where whatever else you want to say about it I can’t remember ever being bored. It crossed my mind that maybe Banks was suffering from the JK Rowling syndrome of being too succesful to be edited.

Niall: Overlong fantasy epic? No, no, that was The Algebraist!

More seriously, space opera and epic fantasy are one of the points on the literary spectrum where sf and fantasy come closest to each other (and then mingle, in Star Wars), so I can see where you’re coming from. But in Matter it didn’t bother me, largely because the characters on Sursamen know full well they’re not living in a fantasy world. They know they’re in a giant artificial world, they know there are vastly more advanced species above them, and they have to deal with that.

So I enjoyed it. I have to say I didn’t even find it overlong; big, yes, but not padded. I read it in a much shorter timeframe than most of you, which probably gives me a different perspective, but on the level of basic reading pleasure it kept me fully engaged – it was fun, often funny, sometimes dazzling, with a couple of proper emotional punches towards the end. What I think Matter adds to the Culture series as a whole is a much clearer sense than there has been before of (a) how the different species in the galaxy are trapped into a hierarchy and (b) what it’s like for them to try to live within that hierarchy. And many-levelled Sursamen is of course the perfect setting for literalising those ideas.

James: Yeah, I do agree with some of what you’re saying Niall. I’m pretty sure a lot of my disappointment was down to my expectations. I agree with your last point about what Matter adds, and there were definitely enjoyable parts – witty bits that made me laugh, cool mega-tech etc. But by the end I was left thinking “what was all that actually about?” There seemed lots of, not so much padding, but meandering away from the plot; quite literally in the case of some of the characters.

Paul: I enjoyed Matter very much, possibly because I came to it with no prior expectations beyond it being a Banks novel set in the Culture universe. Which may sound counter-intuitive, as that’s exactly what seems to have disappointed others, but it may clarify if I say I read Banks for the way he writes as much as the what he writes.

Granted, I’d have been pretty stoked if we’d had another Excession-scale Minds’n’conspiracies fest, or a Use of Weapons literary effort. But what we have instead is something that seemed pretty inevitable (and was clarified in the interview) – it’s the edges where things happen in a stable society like the Culture, and that’s where Banks’ thinking has shifted to.

If anything, as a function of the above, I think Matter‘s flaw is that it is unconsciously pitched to readers familiar with the franchise more than to the newcomer – though not in a cynical way, just in the same way that any franchise universe becomes self-contained and slightly exclusive over time, not least in part because its creator becomes so attached to (and familiar with) it.

I’d agree that Matter meandered – but that’s not a flaw for me, Banks meanders in a way I enjoy. And I’ll agree there were loose threads (a function of that stated deliberate effort to make it seem like the start of a trilogy even though it isn’t one?) – but again, that’s not an issue, as I think similar loose threads of plot are what has filled in much of the fine grain detail of the Culture universe over the years.

I think what we’re highlighting here is indeed how expectations and mind-sets make a book different to different readers. I’ve been accused of being a forgiving reviewer before (in music as well as books), and it’s a fair cop. I try to look for the best in things if I can, that’s just my way, though I try as best as possible to leave predisposition to the side. On the other end of the scale, we have Jonathan, who subscribes to the “test-to-destruction” method – setting the highest of standards for everything without favour or compromise, a position I often wish I could emulate (not least because it comes across as a lot less wishy-washy than my own).

I can see all the things that have been pointed out as flaws in Matter, and noticed them while reading it too (I have the post-its to prove it!). But the simple fact is I just enjoyed reading it. A metaphor for this phenomenon just occurred to me, but it’s a trifle earthy and colourful and deals with the fairer sex, so I’ll let your imaginations do the work …

Final point – Jonathan’s accusation of a lack of ambition is one that could be made to stick, I think, but only in one sense. Banks certainly had no ambition to further the field of space opera, or of sf in general. But I think there’s a case to be made that he has tried to do something different and ambitious within the field of Culture novels. Determining its success or failure on its own terms would take being privy to the man’s inner creative processes – which he either doesn’t examine (as he claims) or guards like a junk-yard dog. So, we have to let the reading public (and us critics, natch) decide its worth on whatever terms we bring to the table, I guess … and it appears mine are unfussy!

Niall: It’s interesting that you talk about Matter being pitched to readers familiar with the franchise because if anything, I got the opposite vibe – I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a Culture novel intended as an introduction to the Culture for those readers, primarily US readers, who may not have encountered it before. It’s quite true that this could be another result of expectation on my part. After all, I knew before I started reading it that (a) Banks hasn’t had huge success in the US, historically, and (b) Orbit are planning to make a fuss about the US launch of Matter – but it meant that I read some of the digressions as cluing-in-the-newbies rather than self-indulgent-wandering.

Jonathan: Yes, I’d agree with all of that.

I think that Matter is a work of little artistic ambition but some quite considerable commercial ambition. I know it’s generally considered a bit “off” to speculate about author’s mindsets but if this book wasn’t written with the explicit intension of “cracking” America then I’d be very much surprised.

This leads us to my first question: How did people feel about the plotting?

I thought that the individual plot threads worked on a tactical level but failed on a strategic level. What I mean by this is that the arcs associated with all of the characters worked well in and of themselves. You had the young Prince having to work out what politics was all about, you had the older prince realising that the world he inhabits really is incalculably larger than the courtly dances and bawdy houses he frequents, and you had the SC agent juggling the ethical and practical demands of the Culture (her adopted culture) and of her native culture. So you had Need For Vengeance vs. Career Management and Non-Intervention Vs. Using Your Culture Training To Go Home And Kick Arse.

I thought all of these threads were well written and nicely handled but they made little or no sense as parts of a larger story. The older Prince escaped from the Shellworld and went off to find an ally who delivered a speech and sent him home. The younger prince learned some politics but it didn’t make a difference in the end since he never got to rule, and the SC person was completely passive, just turning up and watching some other stuff going on.

Furthermore I felt that, even by the standards of the Culture novels, the plot with aliens wanting to kill some other alien was all a bit convoluted and silly.

I got the impression that Banks was mining the Big Book of fantasy plot lines – wrangling tropes effectively but with little real attention given to the wider political issues that tended to characterise the previous Culture novels, which would all have little threads going on but they’d all fit into a wider picture. Matter has no wider picture… just pleasing little stories that are nicely unchallenging and unadventurous.

Paul: Points taken, Niall – another perspective issue. I dunno, I just figured if he was going to do a “Culture 101”, there’s be a lot more close detail set within the core Culture, a la The Player of Games, Excession etc. But again, we’re assuming conscious agency where the man claims there was none, so we’ll never get a definite answer, I suspect.

Niall: I have to think he was being just a little disingenuous when he said that to Farah – I mean, I’m willing to believe he’s a pretty instinctive writer, but I do find it hard to imagine writing any novel, and certainly not one this big, without at least some idea of what I want to say and who I want to say it to. On the other hand, I’m of the school of thought that says that everything on the page is the result of a writerly choice, on the grounds that if we want to hold them responsible for some of it (either to praise or to criticise) we have to hold them responsible for all of it, even if the choice is not always an excruciatingly concious and thought-through one.

Back to the plots … as Paul alluded to, in his BSFA interview Banks also said he wrote the book to feel like part one of a trilogy, with no intention of ever writing parts two and three. I think he succeeded entirely in that goal, but if you’re not prepared to roll with that – the realisation, about 80% of the way through, that the book you’re reading is not the book you thought you were reading – it’s going to be unsatisfying, because of the way various plots either change direction suddenly or end up unfinished. On the other hand, if you do roll with it it’s a nice inversion.

In the case of Oramen, I disagree with Jonathan’s assessment; I thought the fact that, in the end, his journey didn’t go anywhere was tragic in the best sense. (It helps that I was starting to worry, at that point, that the whole book would be irredeemably cosy, and that none of the protagonists would get seriously hurt.) In the other two cases, I think Jonathan has a point, and in particular the length of Anaplian’s journey did feel contrived to make sure she was in the right place at just the right time.

More broadly, I think you could make a case that plot and character end up subservient to idea and theme. For me the book was so strongly about hierarchy and differing ideas of what power and freedom mean at different points in a hierarchy that I could certainly see someone making that case against the book. (Which means I’m not sure I can go along with your argument that the book has no wider picture.) But then, most of the time when I was reading Matter I was quite happy to be swept up in the development of the idea.

Jonathan: Fair enough Niall, in that case I think that we should address the “wider message” once we’ve all had a go with the plot.

James: Niall, I don’t agree with you about intent – I often think that critics over-analyse work, and found it quite amusing when Farah analysed Banks’ writing and he more or less said, I don’t know, that’s your job. (And at this point, if you haven’t already guessed, I should point out that I’m not a critic in any sense, as my reviews on BDO will reveal!) I’m not exactly in the same league as Banks (understatement) but I have definitely written stories that just come out, writing in the headlights as it were. Admittedly when writing a novel the length of time it takes often leads to deeper thought, but surely the writer can just aim for a “good story”?

On plots, I pretty much agree with Jonathan. Everything was setup in the first few chapters, and I was feeling optimistic, and then everything just bumbled along until the very end, when everyone died. Everyone went on a journey somewhere, during which nothing much happened of importance. And everything seemed subservient to the shellworld. It reminded me of Rendezvous With Rama, or Ringworld in this aspect, both of which I found dreadfully dull.

And then there’s the monster under the falls! What was that all about? It came from nowhere and just tried to kill everyone. Why? Because it was nasty and wanted to kill Shellworlds. I didn’t like it at all, and By the end I was left wondering what had really happened? Was the whole big picture just random? Did anyone really know what the monster under the falls was? Did the higher level Involveds really care? It all felt so unresolved. The plot for me was the worst aspect of the book.

Paul: Well, I think saying it (they) were bad would be a stretch too far, but they weren’t the stars of the show either. I agree with James that there are a lot of unresolved threads (though not as many as all that – I seem to remember some signposting about the critter beneath the falls earlier on, a remnant of one of the various factions of species that vie for control of the shellworlds, IIRC). But again, we’re back to the “false trilogy” issue – which means there was very possibly a deliberate attempt to make the situation seem wider and more complex than it would actually be shown to be.

I think the analogy here is that Matter, if it were a film, spent more production time on the CGI and eyeball kicks than it did on translating the story as conceived into the story displayed, if you see what I mean. It’s the ‘blockbuster’ phase of the Culture oeuvre, perhaps. But again, I think the unoriginality of plot threads is probably meant to be subservient to the wider theme. The theme is the engine, the plots are the roads the vehicle drives upon.

Note: Link to Part 1 redirected to Internet Archive in Feb 2021. Part III is also in the Archive.

A Discussion About Matter, part one

Being a conversation between me, James, Paul and Jonathan about Iain M Banks’ latest. You can find part one — which is actually more about Iain Banks in general — over here:

Paul: In some ways that may be his failing as well, at least from some perspectives – I get the feeling he gets dismissed sometimes because he’s not all I R SRS WRITR, THIS R SRS BUK. To each their own, I guess. But the other failing that I can see is the flip-side of what Jonathan mentions – I’d say he is an ideas man, but he lets his ideas carry him away at the expense of ‘hard’ plausibility and tight plotting. I mean, no one world-builds like Banks – Shell-worlds for example, bloody hell, Niven eat your heart out! – but as much as I love that aspect of Banks’ work, I can imagine it bothers others. And he loves the sound of his own authorial voice, too – again, no problem unless it grates on your ear, but that dry wit may be a bit too abrasive for some.

Part two will be posted here tomorrow, with part three over at Velcro City on Thursday. Those parts quite quickly become a discussion that assumes a certain amount of familiarity with Matter, so you may want to read a review or two (say, this one by Gwyneth Jones) to get the general picture; or, if you’re spoiler-averse, bookmark them and come back when you’ve read the book.

Reading Locus Redux

1. Remember the review that put me off Lavinia, from the March Locus? Gary K Wolfe’s review in the April issue has won me back over:

What’s even more shrewd is the manner in which Le Guin addresses the fantastical elements of the tale. Gods and goddesses, and Juno in particular, have their paw-prints all over the events of Vergil’s epic, but as Le Guin reminds us in an afterword, she’s writing a novel, and Ritalin-deprive meddlesome gods don’t work too well in a modern novel, so she simply omits them (some might argue with her assertion about gods and novels, but it’s certainly true of the novel she’s written here). What she offers in their place are some surprisingly postmodern fantasy techniques that work to give her narrative a vibrant contemporary sensibility: Lavinia, the narrator, doesn’t hear from the gods, but she does hear from the aging Vergil himself, dying centuries in the future, and more important, she’s aware that she’s largely Vergil’s creation. “No doubt someone with my name, Lavinia, did exist,” she muses, “but she may have been so different from my own idea of myself, or my poet’s idea of me, that it only confuses me to think about her. As far as I know, it was my poet who gave me any reality at all.” That remarkable passage, from the very beginning of the novel, sets the tone for all that comes after, and lends a particular poignance to the part of the narrative that is largely Le Guin’s own invention, the part that takes place after Aeneas vanquishes his rival Turnus, which is where the Aeneid ends.

The reasons this make the book sound appealing to me: I agree entirely with Le Guin’s assertion about gods in modern novels; the description of how the novel works makes it sound like Le Guin’s really thought carefully about what she wants the book to achieve and how; the suggestion that Le Guin carries the story on past where the original ends; and just the fact that the timeslip element sounds neat.

2. This issue has Locus‘s 2007 summary of British Books. They say:

Orion/Gollancz returns in top spot on the chart of Total Books Published with 131 titles. Little, Brown UK/Orbit moved up into second with 110 titles. Hodder & Stoughton moved up a notch into third place with 71, with last year’s second-place publisher HarperCollins UK/Voyager hot on their heels with 70. Below that we saw the usual shifting around. Among the climbers, BL Publishing/Black Library/Solaris moved up from eighth place into fifth, largely due to their new non-gaming SF line, Solaris.

(Bear in mind that these figures include reprints.)

Over at the Orbit blog, Tim Holman offers another perspective:

[I]f one wishes to look at the actual market shares of publishing imprints in the UK (as I assume anybody reading the Locus article might be), these were the Top 3 imprints in the SFF market last year:

Bloomsbury: 26.07%
Orbit: 13.22%
Gollancz: 7.18%

(The very large Bloomsbury figure is almost entirely owing to the huge sales of the adult edition of HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS. In 2006, by contrast, Bloomsbury’s share was 2.5%.)

To bring things up to date – and to reflect the current market shares without the influence of a new Harry Potter release – the top 3 imprints in 2008 to date are:

Orbit: 23.27%
Gollancz: 10.94%
Corgi: 8.05%

Make of that what you will; as someone whose primary interest in the state of British sf publishing is that there be books I want to read, I have to say that Gollancz still has the go-to list as far as I’m concerned — closely followed by Faber & Faber. Faber publish relatively few sf books, but the’re usually all of interest to me.

Sunday Reading

Nic has started her reviews of this year’s Clarke shortlist with her take on The Execution Channel:

MacLeod is excellent at conjuring this atmosphere of all-pervading suspicion, and is clearly interested in examining how it affects people’s interactions; in light of this, it is odd that there is no Muslim viewpoint character to give us the view from within. The hostile Othering of Muslims — the kneejerk fear directed at neighbours, shopkeepers, fellow commuters — is decried, but MacLeod only replaces it with an ostensibly positive Othering. James (who is heroically more tolerant and clear-sighted than his countrymen, naturally) rescues a Muslim family from their firebombed shop and the angry mob baying for their blood, but this only substitutes the dodgy fifth-columnist image with pitiable victims, rather than real people. In some ways this is a reflection of the treatment of character more generally; none of the major characters really stand out as vital, well-rounded creations. Rather, they operate more as vehicles by which the story-world’s paranoid injustice may be felt by the reader; their lack of individuality and distinctiveness arguably means that we put ourselves in their position, rather than feeling for them as people afflicted.

(I may have quoted the most negative paragraph in the review for effect. You’ll have to read the whole thing to find out.)

The Linksital Plague

  • An interview with Junot Diaz, including some “throat-clearing” from his planned next novel, Dark America:

    I’m somewhere in the Zone, traveling on top of an transport. Bound for City.

    The only City there is.

    What I see. Usually just the f-ckedup hide of the truck. Every now and then I lift my head a little and see the other Travellers sucked onto the metal of the container like remora. See the fresca from the night before, long hair whipping back in thousands of everchanging streams. See: fields of white crosses, an endless proliferation of kudzu, a basketball game between the Junior Klan and the Uncle Muhammed Youth League–a regular five on five with a ref and everything so you know we’re in the End Times for real. And sometimes, if I’m not careful, I see my mother and my brother standing by the edge of the road.

    There full extract is a bit longer, but are you pondering what I’m pondering, Pinky?

  • Free books! Get a pdf of John Kessel’s new collection, The Baum Plan for Financial Independence and Other Stories, or sign up for a proof of Nick Harkaway’s debut The Gone Away World (it has ninjas, I gather).
  • Colin Greenland reviews Will Ashon’s The Heritage
  • Karen Burnham has started working her way through the reading list for the SF Masterclass. Here’s her take on Queer Theory, Gender Theory: An Instant Primer
  • Gwyneth Jones reviews Matter, and generates some discussion
  • An in-depth look at The Carhullan Army
  • Philip Palmer on why The Raw Shark Texts isn’t sf
  • Jonathan McCalmont on Brasyl
  • The latest SF Signal mind-meld: Is the short fiction market in trouble?
  • Catherynne Valente on last week’s Doctor Who
  • The Bookseller reports that Quercus have bought David Wingrove’s “nineteen-book epic” Chung Kuo. Last time I checked it was only eight volumes, so clearly he’s been busy.
  • And finally: something to look forward to …?

20 Fragments of a Ravenous Youth

A palate-cleanser before the final Clarke Award re-read, this, Xiaolu Guo’s follow-up to last year’s Orange-shortlisted A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers (except that the Chinese edition of 20 Fragments was her first novel; although this English translation has, apparently, been substantially revised). You could, if you wanted, run through a list of similarities between the two. Both are lively and interesting and worth reading. In both the subject matter — in 20 Fragments, a young woman moving from the Chinese countryside to Beijing and trying to bootstrap her way into a career in the film industry — feels more than a little autobiographical. The narrator is, in both cases, a young, determined, spirited woman, although 20 Fragments‘ Fenfang is nowhere near as emotionally naive or culturally adrift as Dictionary‘s Z. Fenfang’s voice recalls what we see of Z’s writing in her native tongue: direct, spare, oddly innocent. (It reminded me of Yiyun Li, though I have no idea whether the similarity is a coincidence or an artifact of translation from Chinese.) And both books are concerned with, among other things, the tension between community/constraint and individuality/loneliness.

But 20 Fragments examines that tension through a portrait of a place, rather than a love story, taking from the get-go an unsentimental, unromanticised look at Beijing. When Fenfang arrives in the city, the first apartment she moves into is one left vacant after she sees its owners mown down by a bus; her second home is next to a huge rubbish tip where children play in the summer. The sheer scale of Beijing is something Guo captures well, as is the daunting challenge that carving out a space and an identity in the face of such hugeness represents. The book’s structure, a series of vignettes, often deliberately banal, strung together very loosely, helps with this, as though the scale of the city overwhelms any hope of coherence — as one review put it, events are dictated “not by logic or structural unity but by a hotline to emotions”. And Fenfang’s reflections on the few occasions she ventures to other parts of China throw the city into perspective. She misses, for example, the “sharp edges” it brings to her life.

20 Fragments is also, as you would hope, a culturally enlightening book, although often as much for its presentation of the ways modern China is assimilating emblems of America — Tennessee Williams, McDonalds, Scorsese — as for its specifically Chinese observations. In some ways the deployment of Western cultural references recalls Victor Pelevin; but the larger point, perhaps, is made by an (American) friend of Fenfang, who says he likes China because China is better at being American than America. There’s a sense in which 20 Fragments is an exploration of what that might mean; you feel at times that Fenfeng’s hunger, and the hunger of others of her generation, is something driven by China’s economic rise and drives that rise in turn. A trip home is rendered unreal by the changes that modernity has brought — a TV that looks wrong in her parents’ house, pollution and litter in the nearby stream. What’s real for Fenfang is Beijing, majestically cruel and intense. She goes to Beijing University cafe, to get a free drink, and watches the college kids, and we watch with her. “You could really feel,” she reports, “that, in the future, these kids were going to be running the world.”

Your Daily Awards Stuff

Liz has posted her annual Clarke Award poll: currently 43% think The Execution Channel should win, but 40% think The H-Bomb Girl will win. The consensus shortlist is The H-Bomb Girl, The Yiddish Policemen’s Union, The Carhullan Army, The Execution Channel, Brasyl and Black Man.

Charles Brown, in the April Locus editorial, also comes out in favour of MacLeod:

[After some discussion of the Hugos] The Clarke Award is another matter. We’ve reproduced the Award Administrator’s statement [in the news section], but I think he’s just whistling in the dark. There have been complaints before about the Clarke Award judges picking obscure or strange literary books, and they’ve gone pretty obscure this time. I’ve read four of the six books and attempted to read, unsuccessfully, the other two. I wouldn’t consider The Raw Shark Texts sf at all. It has some of the furniture, but is mainly a fantasy/satire and, like The Red Men, is literary without being particularly literate. The Carhullan Army (US title Daughters of the North) is both literary and literate as well as very depressing. Joanna Russ did a much better job with the same material nearly 40 years ago. It held my interest, but that’s all.

Of the three books inside the field, Black Man is probably Morgan’s best book, but it still reads like a novelization of a really good action movie. I loved The H-Bomb Girl. IT has excitement, new ideas, and struck the right note with me because of the events. I was in the active reserves during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, and had already received notice of my call-up when Kruschev backed down. One of the scariest moments of my life, facing WWIII. The book captures that feeling perfectly. One incident from that week stands out (I wasn’t there, but it has passed into legend). Robert Frost was speaking at my college (CCNY in New York City) and several faculty asked him why he seemed so happy with the dire events around him. He said, “I thought I would die alone, but it looks like the whole human race may go with me!” Apocryphal? Probably. Good story? Yes! Anyway, much as I loved the book, it lacks the gravitas and depth for an award-winning novel. That leaves only The Execution Channel, which although set in a subtle alternate world, is very much like The H-Bomb Girl in feel, and even events. It’s easily the best book on the liast and deserves the award.

Elsewhere, James has been comparing the books that get shortlisted for (and win) the BFSA and Clarke Awards. His conclusion:

Only 41 novels have made both shortlists, that’s only 21% of all the books. Quite surprising.

(However, I’m not sure his numbers are quite right, possibly coming from some confusion in the naming of the awards — the 2008 Clarke award is, like the 2007 BSFA award, given for work published in 2007. So there’s no possibility of anything on this year’s Clarke award turning up on next year’s BSFA award shortlist.)

And just to round things off, James Nicoll wonders whether sf awards are an exercise in futility.

Tiptree Award Winner

Locus Online is reporting that

The winner of this year’s James Tiptree, Jr. Award, given to works of SF and fantasy that explore gender roles, is Sarah Hall’s The Carhullan Army, published last year in the UK by Faber and Faber, and just published this year in the US by HarperPerennial as Daughters of the North. Jurors this year were Charlie Anders, Gwenda Bond (chair), Meghan McCarron, Geoff Ryman, and Sheree Renee Thomas. The award, which comes with $1000 prize money, will be celebrated May 25, 2008, at WisCon 32 in Madison, Wisconsin.

To which I at least have no objections. In fact, I think it’s an excellent choice. There’s no sign of the honour list yet, but I’ll be interested to see what else is on there.

EDIT: SF Awards Watch has the honour list:

  • “Dangerous Space”, Kelley Eskridge, (Dangerous Space, Aqueduct Press, 2007)
  • Water Logic, Laurie Marks (Small Beer Press, 2007)
  • Empress of Mijak and The Riven Kingdom, Karen Miller (HarperCollins, Australia, 2007)
  • The Shadow Speaker, Nnedi Okorafor-Mbachu (Hyperion, 2007)
  • Interfictions, Delia Sherman and Theodora Goss (eds.) (Interstitial Arts Foundation/Small Beer Press, 2007)
  • Glasshouse, Charles Stross (Ace, 2006)
  • The Margarets, Sheri S. Tepper (Harper Collins 2007)
  • Y: The Last Man, written by Brian K. Vaughan, art by Pia Guerra (available in 60 issues or 10 volumes from DC/Vertigo Comics, 2002-2008)
  • Flora Segunda, Ysabeau Wilce (Harcourt, 2007)

That has a couple of entries I am somewhat more surprised to see, but they’re more than made up for by the presence of Y: The Last Man.

FURTHER EDIT: Full press release.

YET MORE EDIT: And another discussion, this time touching on the book’s timeliness (or lack thereof).

What You Need To Know About The Locus Awards

1. You can vote.

2. The deadline is tomorrow.

3. The ballot is here.

There are other things it might be nice for you to know, such as: the Locus Awards are one of the largest (possibly the largest) sf awards going, judged by the number of people who vote; although you don’t have to be a Locus subscriber to vote, if you are and vote you get an extra issue added to your subscription; or, if you want to vote for something that’s not in the drop-down list (such as, say, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, or Sharp Teeth, or The Carhullan Army) you just write it in the box to the side.

In conclusion: go vote.