Hugo awards 2014

The 2014 Hugo ballot has been announced. I am going to try to read and consider each of the nominees in the main categories. I'll link to my posts below. I've never read any of The Wheel of Time, so it may be awhile before I can review the entire series.

Best novel:

• Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie
• Neptune's Brood by Charles Stross
• Parasite by Mira Grant
• Warbound, Book III of the Grimnoir Chronicles by Larry Correia
• The Wheel of Time (the whole series!) by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson

Best novella:

• The Butcher of Khardov by Dan Wells
• "The Chaplain's Legacy" by Brad Torgersen
• "Equoid" by Charles Stross
• Six-Gun Snow White by Catherynne M. Valente
• "Waklla Springs" by Andy Duncan and Ellen Klages

Best novelette:

• "The Exchange Officers" by Brad Torgersen
• "The Lady Astronaut of Mars" by Mary Robinette Kowal
• "Opera Vita Aeterna" by Vox Day
• "The Truth of Fact, the Truth of Feeling" by Ted Chiang
• "The Waiting Stars" by Aliette de Bodard

Best short story:

• "If You Were a Dinosaur, My Love" by Rachel Swirsky
• "The Ink Readers of Doi Saket" by Thomas Olde Heuvelt
• "Selkie Stories are for Losers" by Sofia Samatar
• "The Water That Falls on You from Nowhere" by John Chu

I have no systematic way to review the other categories ("best related work", "best graphic story", "best dramatic presentation" (long and short forms), "best editor" (long and short forms), "best professional artist", "best semiprozine", "best fanzine", "best fancast", "best fan writer", "best fan artist"). Some of them are formats or content I don't find interesting; others, I sampled and wasn't grabbed enough to consume further. I'll stick to the Drabblecast and Escape Pod for my zine/podcast story needs, and simplify my life by not worrying about all the rest.


This post's theme word is eschaton, "judgement day." (I thought DFW made up this word; now that I know it's real, Eschaton is even funnier.) The Hugo eschaton approaches!

Ancillary Justice

Ann Leckie's Ancillary Justice is a magnificent dollop of science fiction. It is ɛ-close to the Platonic ideal of a space opera --- I have zero complaints, but I reserve the final ɛ of my opinion for the piece of entertainment (perhaps Infinite Jest V?) so engaging that it induces willing dehydration and starvation.

You should read it.

The novel achieves magnificent things on many axes, simultaneously (and impressively).

On the surface, it is an easy read, quick and engaging, emotional and intellectual in good proportion. The structure of the universe also lets the reader tweak the experience; the story is so rich with details that it is possible to be entirely absorbed in wondering about the emotional states of sentient spaceships (HT to Iain M. Banks, whose sentient spaceships are similarly clever, funny, inhuman but interested in and interesting to humanity, and surely influenced this book). The more technical daydreamers can wonder about the AI technology, the biological interfaces with ancillaries, the Stargate-style gates in space, the scientific abilities of the just-offstage aliens waiting in the wings.

The meat of the story has a fascinating POV character. Other narrators who I find similarly engaging are all unreliable; this one is reliable, and even fallible, but the narrative line between being one character and an amalgam of several bodies, with knowledge of other characters' biological states but not direct access to their thoughts, is fascinatingly navigated. Ann Leckie performs masterfully, and like all masters, the performance seems effortless. The imbricated timelines of different branches of the story are handled superbly, with coordinated unfurling of recounted history and current action building in synchrony up to the book's climax. All with a light, intelligent touch.

As a literary work, too, the novel has merit. It raises questions of identity, personal intention and actions, and fate. Religion is an available theme, if you're interested. So is the question of empire-building, and utilitarianism: is some barbarism permitted, in the interests of uniting everyone under a single overarching government of fairness and justice? (Reminiscent of the philosophical point made by the beautiful action movie Hero, or the histories of China and Rome.)

One of the nice takeaways (for me) from the novel was a similar tone and subtle message: do good work. This is a lot like Ursula K. Le Guin's Hainish and Earthsea novels: no matter the character's personal scope of power or influence, it is possible to better the universe by exerting that small influence in a responsible manner. For the greater good. Just do what you can, with the power you have, whether you are an omnipotent, all-skills-endowed superprotagonist (my pet peeve), or an unempowered, unevenly-systematically oppressed, unimportant body on the slush-pile of history. A secret and heartwarming message that, with enough decent people performing good (not necessarily coordinated) works for justice and kindness (and dignity and propriety), these small pieces can aggregate to form an overall society with a generous spirit and positive outcome.

Anyway, read this book. It is a gratifying experience on every level.


This post's theme word is helot, "a serf or slave." There are citizens, non-citizens, aliens, and ancillaries; no one is a helot, although ancillaries' movements and thoughts are subordinated to a centralized AI brain.

Defended

The sun is shining, the air is frozen, the snowfall is coating the ground. Winter is here.

I have defended, with success.


This post's theme word is apophasis, "allusion to something by denying it will be said." I will not, in the present or in the future, bring every conversation around to the fact that I am a doctor.

Light, visible

Some very cool effects captured by the combination of stage-lighting and ambient dust in the concert venue made the light fall in beams, which are usually metaphorical.

As you can see, they are here actually visible. The interaction of photons and dust particles combined with the auditory environment to enhance the perception of time passing.

This perception is also emphasized by the fact that these photos have languished in the blogging queue for years. My memories are now reinforced by these pictures, and any organic memories of other perspectives or colors are diminished.

I also remember the cool bathrooms at this venue. But not the venue's name. So, you know, there's that.

This post's theme word is fustilarian, "a fat and slovenly person" and its friend, fustilugs, "a fat and slovenly person." The blog of a fustilugs is delayed, irrelevant, and unreadable.

Odd buildings

These funky buildings in northern Toronto are curved in a way that looks vaguely human and alive.

As one drives on the highways approaching them, the roads' gradual curving approach makes the buildings appear to undulate and twist.

It is unsettling.

They appear to have weird organic corners... maybe "elbows" is a better term? And spine-like protrusions. And maybe they are offset from plumb. They look like a cluster of skew mushroom-arms, twisting and writhing upwards.

I wonder what the original design goals were, and whether the architects achieved the necessary balance of sleek modernity, marketable balcony-space and window-views, and appeasement of Lovecraftian Elder Gods with the unspeakably twisted rooftop temples (unphotographable, not documented here).

This post's theme word is stele, "the central core of the stem or root of a vascular plant" and usefully also "a funerary or commemorative stone slab." The skyscraping steles stretched upwards, their hapless residents ignorant of the unsettling past, the warping present, and the horrible future.

Frightened Rabbit

Q. and I went to see Frightened Rabbit on the recommendation of D. and J. It was raining; we walked to the venue, which was in a sketchy neighborhood; we waited in line. Once we entered, the venue was (at first) too cold, then (when crowded) too hot. The concrete-floored pit had no chairs, so we stood through the entire experience. The stage designer opted for the unusual choice of lighting the audience directly with strobe lights throughout the performance, while leaving the onstage performers cloaked in darkness. The other audience members provided targets of observational humor (before the concert began) and sources of aggressively misanthropic behavior (during the performances).

The opening band was decent. The headliners did nothing for me (or Q.). We went home and listened to the Bastion soundtrack as a palate cleanser, and felt much better.

Conclusion: We have, without our own knowledge, become old and crotchety. We do not like being up late, being out late, having to stand for a long time on a hard floor, or breathing other people's secondhand fumes/body spray/aerosolized hair gel. We do like one song to contain different chords, comprehensible lyrics, and stage lighting which illuminates the performers and does not induce seizures.


This post's theme word is cockshy, "the game of throwing missiles at a target; such a throw," or "an object of criticism or ridicule." The cockshy hipster audience provided much ammunition for our cockshy mockery.

It's made out of chocolate!

Chocolate: now for your powertools, decorative ducks, and other tchotchkes.

A window displaying fine craftsmanship.

This post's theme word is millinery, "fancy hats," or "the trade, craft, or business of fancy hats-making." Every subdiscipline has its own specialists: the farrier, the milliner, the chocolate-sculptor.

Don't watch "Only God Forgives"

I saw "Only God Forgives." It was a wretched non-movie. The blurb describing it as an "ultra-violent revenge saga" is too generous. It is ultra-violent, to be sure.  But this is one instance where specialized film-buff jargon gets in the way of actually describing the series of images and sounds that you will be forced to watch. The descriptor "controversial" should be interpreted as "terrible, unless you are so film-pretentious that you have wrapped around MAXINT."

There is no plot; it's not even that some things happen, then other things happen. NOTHING happens. Is part of the movie a dream sequence? Possibly. Is the entire thing a cruel, nightmare-inducing practical joke played upon viewing audiences? That is the only explanation that makes sense to me.

Ryan Gosling has no lines and does his best not to move his body or face while on-camera. I cannot explain why. It's a movie.

Perhaps the entire operation is a response to the evidence that modern movies are entirely formulaic and predictable. Formulaic movies make it easy for the audience to understand what is happening with only a brief sketch on-screen: a moment of a man's eyes meeting a woman's during a musical cue, and we understand they are destined to overcome odds and love each other. Only God Forgives is the other end of the spectrum: no matter how much we see on-screen, the audience never understands what is happening, has happened, or will happen. The violence was unexpected and sociopathic, except when swapped for just-as-unexpected-and-sociopathic "mercy." The soundtrack provided no context or cues, and seemed completely divorced from the images, even during karaoke scenes.

Robbie Collins deserves a gold star for penning the phrase "spits in the face of coherence" in his review, another highlight of which is the apt summary: "The film’s characters are non-people; the things they say to each other are non-conversations, the events they enact are non-drama. Meanwhile the camera is forever rolling off down corridors, as if someone forgot to apply the handbrake on the rig. "

My viewing companion A. described his experience thusly:

The good part about this movie was that the main police guy [Vithaya Pansringarm] looked like an Asian Geoffrey Rush. And man, Geoffrey Rush is great. I really like him.

Geoffrey Rush was not in this movie. That's right: the best part of this movie is that it might remind you of Geoffrey Rush, famous and excellent actor, who exists and was not in this movie.


This post's theme word is exscind, "to cut out or off." I wish I could exscind the memory of this movie from my mind.

Eldrich food

We ventured forth and proved our mettle. The monster is slain, the protein is obtained, behold: eldrich food! It lies, coiled and marinating, a supplication to the gods of savory delicacies.

This post's theme word is infulminate, "to render thunderous." The slow cooker's magical powers infulminate the simplest food, magnifying its flavors to a roaring avalanche so powerful that all metaphors are mixed (not unlike the marinating sauces!).