A Hugo For The Best Fan Spreadsheet

For more than a decade, one of science fiction and fantasy fandom’s top influencers has been an online crowdsourced spreadsheet. That spreadsheet — and its creators — deserve a Hugo nomination for Best Related Work.

Every year, Renay and the team over at the blog Lady Business create, maintain, curate and edit a Google spreadsheet of eligible works and creators across all Hugo Award categories. As new works are published, the list grows, usually ending up with hundreds of listed works for any given voting year. Because of its massive list of recommendations, the spreadsheet has gained a tongue-in-cheek nickname of The Hugo Spreadsheet of Doom.

It turns out to be difficult to find images to illustrate
a blog post about a spreadsheet. Here's a screenshot
of the Hugo Spreadsheet of Doom.

“The spreadsheet was born out of a shared, friends-only collection of recs from Hugo Award newbies,” spreadsheet creator and editor Renay told us last week. “It wasn't hard to remember novels, but everything else was a huge question mark every time nominations rolled around. The down-ballot categories don't lend themselves to a modern interpretation, either, which makes it hard for new folks to parse their meanings without some hand holding.”

The first iteration of the spreadsheet was launched in time for the 2014 Hugo Awards in London. The subsequent year, when alt-right activists tried to hijack the Hugo process, there was a groundswell of progressive science fiction and fantasy fans getting involved in Worldcon for the first time. The Hugo Spreadsheet of Doom was well-placed to help orient those looking to get involved in Worldcon.

“A good chunk of the motivation for the public project was to make the short lists less male, less white, and try to tempt more diverse voices into contributing to the history of the award,” Renay explains. “I thought helping the winners be more diverse was probably not in my sphere of influence, but we could, as a collective, make the history of the award show a more diverse field in the finalists and long list options.”

The Hugo Spreadsheet of Doom is open for public editing. Suggestions are usually entered by creators promoting their own works or fans who are enthusiastic about a specific story or novella. Through community sourcing, the spreadsheet helps identify overlooked gems, and supports an informed nomination process. As bloggers who write primarily about the Hugo Awards, we browse the list on a regular basis to round out our own list of potential nominees. The Spreadsheet of Doom helps inform our reading across all categories, but especially the fan categories. While many professional publications have publicists trying to influence the public about what might be considered for awards, there is usually no commercial backer aiding the discoverability for fan works and non-professional creators. The Spreadsheet of Doom helps reduce these barriers.

A strength of The Hugo Spreadsheet of Doom is that it’s about as neutral as you can get; the editors assess eligibility but pass no judgement about the Hugo-worthiness of what people contribute. Consequently, the list doesn’t hew to any particular subgenre, style, or set of tastes. Rather, each year provides a broad overview of the state of genre output. Although the editors might deem a work ineligible, this is done in a transparent process with explanations about the WSFS rules.

Around Hugo nominating time, anyone logging into the Google document will see dozens — sometimes hundreds — of anonymous accounts reading over the entries. This snowballing of interest has no doubt brought new Hugo voters into the process. Another important project that has likely benefitted from this exposure is Archive of Our Own (AO3).

“I realized that it had grown beyond my circle in 2017,” Renay says. “I was told that actively campaigning for AO3 was unethical because of my access to the spreadsheet (protip: everyone has access to the spreadsheet because I don't add anything until each sheet is live and promoted). That's when I realized we had made it! “

The spreadsheet encourages community involvement and curation, helps identify overlooked gems, and supports an informed nomination process. Organized by category, it may include notes on format or availability. This shared resource celebrates the genre’s diversity, encourages participation in fandom, and highlights excellence in speculative fiction ahead of the Hugo Awards each year.

The Hugo Spreadsheet of Doom’s simplicity belies the many hours of volunteer labour that goes into assessing the eligibility of works, sorting out which category works belong in, and general quality assurance tasks. This is a project that has enduring value for the community, and should be honoured with a Hugo nomination of its own.

To that end we’ve added “Renay’s Hugo Spreadsheet of Doom” to the Hugo Spreadsheet of Doom.

Aliette de Bodard is Overdue for a Hugo Award Win

Aliette de Bodard at the 2024
Hugo Awards.
(Photo by Olav Rokne)

There are only 27 authors whose works have appeared on the prose-fiction Hugo Award ballot at least 10 times. It’s a list of some of the most recognizable and prolific names in the history of the genre: Heinlein, le Guin, Simak, Ellison, Bujold, Chiang.

It’s an achievement to pen even a single work of fiction that speaks to the Hugo voting public enough that it earns a spot on the ballot. The fact that each of these authors have done so on at least ten occasions speaks to the fact that they were important voices in science fiction and fantasy over a significant period of time.

Of this exclusive list of 27 authors, 25 of them have taken home the trophy on at least one occasion. The others are Michael A. Burstein, a terrific author of short fiction who largely stopped publishing new work about a decade ago, and Aliette de Bodard, who earned her 10th and 11th Hugo nods this summer in Glasgow.

Having yet again been a runner-up at Glasgow (losing Short Story to Naomi Kritzer and series to Ann Leckie), Aliette de Bodard now holds the distinction of being the person who has been a finalist for a fiction-category Hugo the most often without winning.

She has come close on numerous occasions.

In 2013, “Immersion” — her nuanced and insightful story about the folly of reducing culture to data — placed second to Ken Liu’s “Mono no Aware.”

In 2019, her novella The Tea Master and The Detective led the balloting during the nominations stage, but that was a year in which the Murderbot books were an unstoppable juggernaut. Aliette de Bodard’s Sherlock Holmes tribute fell short by about 300 votes on the final ballot, placing second to Artificial Condition by Martha Wells.

To us at least, it feels as if de Bodard was robbed in 2015 given that one of her absolute best works "The Breath of War" was prevented from getting on the short story Hugo ballot by the notorious Sad Puppies slate. No short story award was given that year, and damn it Aliette de Bodard probably should have won.

She’s placed fifth to Becky Chambers and fourth to Mary Robinette Kowal. She’s been a finalist in some incredibly strong shortlists. But to date, she’s never taken home the shiny chrome rocket ship. That’s something we think needs to change.

Now, we should mention that de Bodard has been recognized with other literary awards. She’s taken home awards from the BSFA, from the Nebulas, the Locus, the Writers of the Future, and the Ignytes. It would be difficult to argue that she isn’t already one of the genre’s most awarded authors. But the Hugo Awards have a special place for those of us in the Worldcon community. Not only is her work entirely deserving of a Hugo, she attends Worldcon and is a participant in panels, book signings, and other events. She’s a contributing member of the Worldcon community.

This year, de Bodard has two works that could be considered for a Hugo Award: a novel Navigational Entanglements, a novella In The Shadow of the Ship. (Her series “Universe of Xuya” cannot be renominated until 2026 because it was on the ballot in 2024.)

de Bodard's latest novella ranks
amongst her all-time best.
(Image via Subterranean Press)

The novella In the Shadow of the Ship hit shelves just last week. Set in her Universe of Xuya — a future timeline in which space has been conquered by Confucian galactic empires — In the Shadow of the Ship deals with toxic family relationships on board a horrific refugee ship, where children are sacrificed. The protagonist, Khuyên, is among de Bodard’s most memorable characters, having fled the ship on which she was raised only to return for a family funeral. She understands much of the problematic culture she was raised with, but also brings a reflective outsider’s perspective. Although this is a darker and moodier work than others in the Xuya series, de Bodard continues to explore similar themes of family tensions and mother-daughter relationships. It is on a short list of de Bodard’s best works.

The novel is Navigational Entanglements, which hit shelves this spring, is an action-fuelled political thriller about a neurodivergent navigator who has to hunt down a dangerous creature while dealing with fallout from the assassination of an imperial envoy. It seems a likely candidate for the Hugo shortlist.

It has been 15 years since Aliette de Bodard first made a splash in SFF literary circles when she was shortlisted for the Astounding Award for Best New Writer (which we still feel she should have won). In the time since, she has continued to evolve as a writer and has become a master of her craft. It is astonishing that she does not have a Hugo Award yet, and it is an omission we hope will be rectified in short order.

How To Lose A Hugo

Over the past several years, we’ve received DMs and emails from authors and artists asking variations of the question: “How can I lose at the Hugos?”

The joy of losing a Hugo Award is 
one known by few. We're fortunate
to have lost four times. 
(Olav Rokne photo)

There is, of course, no magic formula to ensure anything loses at the Hugo Awards. It is, after all, a community-led, democratic process. Despite one’s best efforts, you might never end up losing a Hugo.

But, having lost at the Hugo Awards four times now, we feel somewhat qualified to provide advice on this subject.

Some years ago, Hugo-winning fanwriter Jim C. Hines summarized nicely and succinctly advice for those seeking to make a splash in SFF awards. He wrote:

• Write the best stuff you can.
• Never assume you’re entitled to an award.
• Don’t be a dick.

Frankly, it’s excellent advice even if you don’t care about awards.

Armed with a heavy dose of humility and a few years of watching how people campaign for SFF literary awards, we have a handful of additional observations to share.

Engage With The Community

When it comes to the Hugo Awards, it’s worth remembering that they are a community award that masquerades as a literary institution. These awards are nominated and voted on by a self-selected group that loosely organizes itself around a series of conventions. That means that how well someone is known and how they are seen within the community will inevitably affect whether or not their work is recognized by the community.

Social media is awash with accounts run by authors who rarely post anything other than promotional content aimed at selling their own books. It’s also worth letting people know who you are, what books you enjoy, and what your general vibe is.

Engaging with the community isn’t just about telling people how good you think your book or art is, it’s about listening and talking about the things that are important to them. Talk about politics, talk about art, talk about architecture, talk about music, and be authentic.

An excellent example of this is Marie Vibert. Years before she became a Hugo finalist, and even before we’d read any of her fiction, we already had a suspicion that she was a good writer because her Tweets were engaging, funny, and interesting. When her byline was in Clarkesworld, a lot of people in the community checked out her work in part because they already know who she is, and were happy to see her getting published.

Lift Other People Up

Worldcon is a community and many of the Hugo voters know each other. And they talk.

When you see something done within the genre that you enjoy, tell people about it. Being part of a community means celebrating the accomplishments of others in that community.

If you spend most of your time lifting other people up, then when you show enthusiasm for your own work it’s more likely to come across as genuine and joyful instead of self-serving.

Listen to Community Voices

Look at which publications tend to carry Hugo-shortlisted works. It’s worth subscribing to a couple of the major SFF magazines, and knowing who your peers are in the SFF creative community.

There’s a lot of great community-based content in fanzines such as Nerds of a Feather and Galactic Journey. If you’re a podcast listener, take the time to tune into a couple of community focused podcasts like Hugo Girl and If This Goes On. Maybe even reach out to Seth at Hugos There, and see if there’s an opportunity to talk about an old book you love. Submit an article to a fanzine like Journey Planet. Send a news item to File 770.

Hugo winner Paul Weimer
has written for … countless
fanzines and guested on
innumerable podcasts.
(Olav Rokne photo) 

It doesn’t hurt to contribute to these types of projects; people remember that sort of stuff. This is not to suggest that there’s any sort of quid-pro-quo, but rather that people are likelier to pay attention to works written by people they know to some degree.

When you look at lists of existing Hugo winners, remember that the reason these works won is that people within the community voted for them. If you are overly vocal in your disdain for these works, their supporters will likely infer that your work is dissimilar to the stuff they like and will consequently not bother to read it.

If you loathe the Hugo Awards, and hate the people at Worldcon, don’t be surprised if the people at Worldcon are not fans of yours either.

It’s fascinating to see people on social media writing screeds about how much they hate the people who vote on Hugo Awards, while simultaneously complaining that they don’t win Hugo Awards.

Be Aware Of Community Standards

As with any community, there are some unwritten rules about what is considered acceptable or unacceptable behaviour. With the Worldcon community, there are several things that are generally considered to be unacceptable, including racism, transphobia, and sexism.

These standards have obviously evolved over time (for the better), and much of the conduct that was once ignored or even encouraged would probably (and correctly) preclude some celebrated authors of the past from winning today.

It’s also worth noting that people who are mean or condescending towards people within the community are less likely to earn Hugo Award nominations. We have seen at least one writer whose published work is brilliant … but who fails to earn award nominations. We suspect it’s largely because of how consistently they talk down to people. 

Find Your Niche

A work doesn’t have to appeal to everyone for it to be worthwhile. Hugo nominations often come from creating something that has deep resonance with a significant minority of fandom, even if it doesn’t connect with the broader Worldcon audience.

This blog, for example, has built a following for both talking about the political economy of speculative fiction, and for a quirky iconoclastic humour. Both of these have niche audiences, and we’re continuously amazed — and thrilled — that our work has been appreciated by that portion of the Worldcon membership.

Humour is however … a bit like Marmite-flavoured icecream. Not every flavour is right for everyone.

Conclusion

More science fiction is being published now than ever before, and thanks to the internet, much of it is available more widely. There are more worthy works in every category every year than could possibly be recognized, consequently don’t take it as a slight if you don’t make the shortlist. If you’re fortunate enough to make the shortlist, don’t take it as a slight if your work doesn’t get a trophy.

Of course, there are a lot of readers, and a lot of active fans, who are not Hugo voters, so one can have a successful career without any risk of being nominated for this award simply because the two circles don't happen to overlap.

Hugo Packet Translated (2024)

The editors of this fanzine are grateful for the Hugo nomination. Thanks to the Scots Language Centre, we were able to have our best blog posts of 2023 translated into Scots, which is an Indigenous language of Scotland, is recognized by the Scottish government, and which UNESCO has classed as a vulnerable language. According to the most recent census, 30 per cent of the Scottish population speak Scots (a total of 1,541,693 people).

Given that this Worldcon is taking place in Scotland, it is important to recognize that it is a country that has a rich cultural and linguistic diversity, and that its language and culture are distinct from those of the other nations found on the British Isles. As we have previously blogged, language is integral to culture, and the promotion and continuation of minority languages is valuable.

We would like to thank Dr. Dauvit Horsbroch of the Scots Language Centre, who conducted these translations, and who is a promoter of minority language rights.

• Aw Warlds In Aw Leids Is Metaphors (All Words In All Languages Are Metaphors - English Version)
• The Ill o Walin Amang Lessers (The Evil of Choosing Among Lessers - English Version) 
• The Un-American wey that a Lee-Science Fan fae the Left wis haunelt (The Un-American Treatment of a Leftist Science Fiction Fan - English Version)

The Maginot Line of Fandom

French Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau famously quipped that “generals are always preparing to fight using the tools of the last war.”

Built by France in the wake of the First World War,
the Maginot Line was an engineering marvel 
completely unsuited to the challenges
of the Second World War.
(Image via History.com) 

At the time of this writing All Fandom Is Plunged Into War, and we are left wondering if some of the tools adopted in the wake of the last battle are suited to today’s conflicts. Is E Pluribus Hugo the Maginot Line of fandom?

This is the seventh year that the E Pluribus Hugo (EPH) methodology of tabulating Hugo Award nominations has been in effect.

Since it was ratified at the business meeting in 2016, EPH has weighted nominating votes in an attempt to ensure that the shortlist is more representative of Worldcon fandom than it was in years past. By our count, the use of EPH has resulted in changes to the Hugo shortlists on 35 occasions. Over the past eight years, this system has removed some works from the shortlist in favour of other works that were nominated by a smaller (but hypothetically more representative) demographic.

Given that there have been almost 900 finalists across all Hugo (plus Lodestar and Astounding) categories since EPH went into effect, that means the new system has made about a four per cent difference to the shortlist.

In essence, EPH created noise around the edges of the data, to little benefit.

EPH was proposed in the wake of the 2015 Hugo Awards controversy, during which a co-ordinated minority of fans were able to overwhelm the nomination process. It was one of a variety of solutions proposed as a remedy to the problem of slate voting.

At the time, those involved with this blog were in support of the EPH proposal. Sure, sometimes it produced weird results like keeping Arkady Martine off the Astounding Award ballot in 2020 … but that seemed like a small price to pay to prevent another year like 2015, in which havoc raged and resulted in five categories resolving as “no award.”

It's worth noting who gets added and who
gets removed from the shortlist due to EPH.
(Image via Hugo Awards 2017 nominations)

In the intervening years, EPH has not been faced with a significant challenge. From 2017 to 2022, nomination patterns among Worldcon members was as expected, with no “slate” that needed to be accounted for. If the data from this year is correct, however, the highly-correlated list of finalists that all received similarly inflated numbers of votes does more than just resemble a ‘slate.’ (This is not to imply malicious action on the part of those casting nominating ballots, but to say that clustered votes that are correlated due to a highly influential recommended reading list will be treated by the EPH system in a way that is similar to a slate of nominators.) And in the face of this trial by fire, EPH has failed.

EPH has also not lived up to the promise that it would ensure that different factions of fandom would be represented in the final ballot. Looking over the list of those who have been excluded from the Hugo Ballot because of EPH, you’ll find some excellent folks who have yet to receive their first nominations. If not for EPH in 2022, Black Nerd Problems would have become the first fanzine made by Black SFF fans to receive a Hugo nomination. If not for EPH in 2020, Priyanka Krishnan would have been the second-youngest editor ever shortlisted for a Hugo Award. Meanwhile, EPH has secured additional nominations for some of the folks who have been recognized the most often in the past. It was a solution that may have reinforced systems of power instead of mitigating their impact.

Another issue with EPH is that it can be gamed. Sufficient people nominating only one item in a category are likely to boost that one finalist through a process that’s been dubbed “bullet voting.” The effects of this can be extreme. In 2023, Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki’s short story Destiny Delayed was omitted from the Hugo Award ballot … despite receiving almost twice as many votes as the shortlisted work Resurrection by Ren Qing.

Equally if not more damning, EPH has created a barrier to the public understanding of how the Hugo Award nominees are selected. The integrity of the nominations process, and thus the awards themselves, is being questioned for a variety of reasons, and an arcane system of tabulation only adds to the problem. People are unlikely to trust a system that they don’t understand, and an obfuscatory system they are expected to participate in is anathema to public trust and participation.

EPH doesn’t offer better results, it simply picks different finalists in a way that seems to increase the democratic deficit in our community instead of removing it.

Fundamentally, we’ve seen that “E Pluribus Hugo” has not functioned as intended, produces a shortlist that less accurately reflects the will of the Worldcon community, and adds confusion to the process. It’s time to abandon it altogether. It’s time to craft tools appropriate for tomorrow’s awards.

Hugo Packet Translated

The editors of this fanzine are grateful for the Hugo nomination, and have had our best articles of 2022 translated into Mandarin so they are accessible to Chinese fans at this year's Worldcon. Translation was done by freelance translator Zoë C. Ma.

本杂志编撰团队感谢雨果奖提名，并借此机会挑选了2022年度若干得意之作翻译成中文，以飨参加本年度世界科幻大会的中国友人。译者：Zoë C. Ma

• 同理心的触手 (The Tentacle of Empathy - English Version)
• 列王若尘 (The Tsars Like Dust - English Version) 
• 太空纳粹死光光 (Space Nazis Must Die - English Version)
• 解药：浓度百分之二十五 (The 25 Per Cent Solution - English Version) 

解药：浓度百分之二十五 (The 25 per cent solution - Mandarin Translation)

 过去几年间，雨果奖某些奖项险些因未满章程规定的最低投票数而遭取消。

世界科幻大会已非上世纪六七十年代可比。
(图片来自 fanac.org）

令人感叹的是，这些濒危奖项的受欢迎程度并没有出现明显的滑坡。它们只不过是赶不上其他更具大众化影响力的奖项热度的快速增长。因此，说它们的境遇是最佳长篇小说、最佳戏剧表现等大牌奖项受捧带来的惩罚，似乎不为过。

雨果奖的的评选和颁发是由《世界科幻协会章程》约束的。这份章程的3.12.2款对某奖项空缺的的条件之一做出了规定如下。

3.12.2: 当特定类别的有效选票总数（不包括首先为“空白奖”投的选票）总数少于总数的百分之二十五（25％）时，既属“空白奖”。

2021年最终入围名单的总投票数为2362张。因此，如果某个奖项在终选时获得的总投票数少于591张，该奖项将公布为“空白奖”。最佳粉丝演播奖得到了632张选票，勉强超过了25%的下限。最佳粉丝杂志 (643), 最佳长篇作品编辑 (667), 以及最佳粉丝作者奖 (680) 都面临跌落“空白”深渊的境地。为了感受这些数字的含义，请考虑如下事实：在“25%条款”问世的1963年，任何一个奖项总投票数都没有超过591. 世界科幻大会在成长，它需要在会员群体愈发广大的条件下寻求有效衡量奖项代表性的途径。

我们还观察到一个值得注意的现象。如果仅仅多出来159名参加了最佳长篇小说评选、但同时未能为最佳粉丝杂志投票的会员，那么 Nerds of a Feather 就无法摘获名至实归的雨果奖了。这就体现了当前投票规则的一个漏洞：略微小众一点的奖项可能成为高规格大奖功名之下的牺牲品。

最佳长篇作品编辑奖的不二人选黛安娜·M·傅，
险些因3.12.2条款与奖项失之交臂。
（图片来自 Rokne & Wakaruk)

泛读一下该条款出现当年的一些同人杂志，我们可以看到如此的现状应该不是当时提出这项条款的本意。那时候，大家的牢骚是有的人可能靠着不到10张票获得雨果奖。如果某个奖项有多达500人参与投票，看起来不应该成为这种担心的对象。

章程3.12.2款的历史已经有些年头了，而且其发展历程也很有意思。因为1963年参加雨果奖投票的人数异常得少，随后1964年的章程里出现了这一条款的原始版本。当时的规定里并没有特定的下限，而是授权雨果奖管理会以“明显缺乏投票者的关注”为由取消某个奖项。

我们要明白，这条规则加入章程的年代，参与提名过程者不满200人，最终评选的投票人数不及300. 为20世纪60、70年代特定情况制定的投票规则，在2020年代的现实条件下未必仍适用。

因为文献不足之故，我们未能找到该规定的现行具体条文是什么时候制定的，不过范围就在1978、1979年间。就我们所知，这条规则的明确形式出自本·雅罗 (Ben Yalow) 之手。他提出将门槛定在25%，以增进评选过程的透明度，并确保奖项不会因为任何一届委员会随机的主观意念就遭剔除。

“雨果奖管理委员会有很大的自由量裁权，但他们宁可不动用。因为一旦出手，只能给科幻大会招来批评。”雅罗这样解释道。“所以，将规则制定得更具体，避免粗略的方针指引，可以让委员会从舆论的笔尖下脱身出来。”

在1970年代末，这是一项重要而积极的改进，25%的下限在当时是合理的。不过40年间时过境迁，这一限制也该改改了。

传奇人物本·雅罗是《世界科幻协会章程》
的重要贡献者，他起草了当前版本的3.12.2条款。
（图片来自 Rokne & Wakaruk)

整个1970年代，每年雨果奖终选投票人数平均约800人。这段时期，“空白奖”的下限可以估计为200票左右。如果某个奖项只能引来200票，那么认为它缺乏必要的关注度是可以理解的。

这条规则的另一时代背景是当年各个奖项投票数的分布比现在要均匀很多。1980年是雨果奖完整的投票记录有据可查的第一年。那一年，收到投票数最少的奖项是最佳粉丝作者奖。同样是那一年，在1788名投票者中有884人参与了最佳粉丝作者评选，因此该奖项的参与率有49%.

四十年过去了，参与最佳粉丝作者投票的人数没有显著变化，但参与的比例下降了，因为参加其他虚构作品类别的投票人数大幅增长。这就是说，导致类似奖项面临濒危的境地的原因，并不是关注的人数下滑，而是其他奖项的活跃程度增长。

说白了，最佳长篇作品编辑奖该不该评出，按道理不应该由最佳戏剧表现奖的参与人数来决定。

我们的建议是，与其使用百分数来判定某奖项缺乏关注，世界科幻协会应采用固定票数作为限定标准。当然，就和“25%条款”一样，这一票数下限的设置也会有一定的任意性。但我们认为，这个数字可以调节到能体现显著的粉丝群体持续性关注的水平上。显然，这个限度应高于10人。但同时，我们的观点是，假如在可以想见的将来，某届有3000人参加雨果奖投票的大会上按现有规则需要750票才能保住一个奖项，那么我们的固定票数限额不应该高到如此地步。这一具体数字应定期评估；每5年一次是比较可能的方案。

另一种解决方法是改变参与率低于25%的奖项的处理方式，要求世界科幻协会的雨果奖委员会对其进行重审而非自动取消，以防参与该奖项提名和评选过程的会员之劳动付诸东流。

雨果奖的部分奖项广为大众所知，这是值得欣喜的事情。不过，雨果奖的评选过程亟需与时俱进，既与大众的拥护相适应，同时又不至牺牲更小众的奖项。

当然，这些建议如果采纳，会给世界科幻协会雨果奖评委带来更多工作任务。然而，这样的工作有益于世界科幻大会使命的实现，并将帮助我们保证其程序真正建立在参与的基础上，体现出代表性和民主精神。

复言之：同人类奖项不应成为文学作品类奖项成功背后的牺牲品。

（注：原标题 The 25 per cent solution, 取自福尔摩斯系列作品之 The seven-per-cent solution. 英文中 solution 一词有“溶液”和“解”的双关涵义。）

本杂志编撰团队感谢雨果奖提名，并借此机会挑选了2022年度若干得意之作翻译成中文，以飨参加本年度世界科幻大会的中国友人。译者：Zoë C. Ma [https://zoe-translat.es/]

The Word For "World" Isn't America

In China they honour works of science fiction with the Galaxy Award, the Atorox Award is presented annually to the best Finnish work of SFF, Australia’s Ditmar Award recently celebrated 50 years of recognizing Aussie sci-fi, Japan has the Seiun Award, Canada the Aurora, New Zealand the Sir Julius Vogel Award, Netherlands the Paul Harland Prize, in Croatia they present the SFera Award … we could go on.

The Ditmar Award is almost
as old as the Nebula, and
recently recognized 
J.S. Breukelaar's "The Bridge."
(Image via BlackGate)

These national awards support science fiction fandom by platforming works that express the local concerns and national character of their host nations. Although neither Julie E. Czerneda, Candas Jane Dorsey, or Karl Schroeder have been honoured by the Hugo Awards, they’re truly great authors and we’re glad that the Aurora Award has recognized them. Their creative works speak to and for Canadians.

So why is there no national award recognizing the best science fiction published by authors from the United States?

It could be argued that this is a reflection of American exceptionalism or imperialism.

The Hugo Award — when it was established in 1953 — may have billed itself as celebrating the world’s greatest science fiction, but that was for a limited definition of “world.” This was a “world” that extended no further north than Toronto, no further east than London, and no further south or west than Los Angeles. American cultural hegemony was baked into the DNA of the award.

An American national SFF award was not seen as necessary, because the Hugos existed.

To date 84.2 per cent of all winners, and 84.5 per cent of the authors represented in the prose categories (short story, novelette, novella, novel and series) were born in the United States. If anything, these statistics understate the level of American dominance, given that the non-American 15 per cent includes figures like Isaac Asimov (born in Russia), Algis Budrys (born in Germany) and Ursula Vernon (born in Japan). If the goal of the Hugo Awards is to represent the best science fiction in the world, then we cannot limit ourselves to works by American authors.

It can be argued that American dominance might have eased slightly in recent years. But even over the most recent three awards ceremonies, 76 per cent of Hugo finalists in the prose categories were still Americans.

Despite a slightly increasing global reach of Worldcon over the past 20 years, clearly, the award’s early focus on America and on American SFF remains.

And this now feels like a disservice to the genre as a whole. The list of iconic SFF writers who did not primarily write in English, and who consequently never got even a whif of Hugo recognition is long. Among others, we’d mention Japan’s Kobo Abe, France’s Pierre Boule, Brazil’s Jerônymo Monteiro, France’s Bernard Werber.

Elia Barceló is among the best-known Spanish
authors and has published best-selling works of SFF.
But the Hugo Awards have yet to recognize her work.
(Image via Zendalibros.com)

The lack of an award for Best American Science Fiction means that the Hugo is the primary award that American science fiction fans and authors pay attention to, lobby for, and consequently dominate. Thus, the award for the best science fiction on Earth is usually awarded to American authors, and consequently reinforces the perception that American science fiction is the beginning and end of the genre.

Put another way, the lack of an American SFF award ends up disprivileging non-American authors.

But it’s a sword that can cut both ways.

This year, with Worldcon being held in China for the first time, there have been more nominating ballots than ever before received from science fiction fans whose first language is not English. There is consequently a real chance that the Hugo Award ballot may primarily celebrate Chinese-language works.

If this comes to pass, and if deserving works of American science fiction are denied recognition as a consequence, we should not blame the Chinese fans who engaged with the Hugos. The fault belongs with all of us in North American fandom for trying to have our award be global, but still wanting to be the only ones who can win it.

Regardless of what the shortlist looks like in 2023, the Hugos would be improved by the existence of a national science fiction award in the United States.

As much as Worldcon likes to think of itself as a “World” event, it seems pretty clear that for the first seven decades that it existed, the Hugo Award has steadfastly resisted the global reach of fandom.

If the Hugo Award is to be a truly “World” award, American fandom may need to relinquish it … by establishing an American award for American fiction.

The 25 per cent solution

Over the past few years, several Hugo Award categories have come perilously close to falling off the edge of the ballot.

Worldcon has changed since
the 1960s and 1970s.
(Image via Fanac.org)

What’s striking is that these categories aren’t significantly declining in popularity, but rather, they’re just failing to keep pace with the growth of interest in categories with greater mass appeal. This makes them dangerously close to being punished for the popularity of the big-ticket Hugos such as Best Novel and Best Dramatic Presentation.

Section 3.12.2 of the WSFS Constitution – the document that governs Hugo Awards administration – described one of the circumstances under which an awards category should fail to be presented.

3.12.2: “No Award” shall be given whenever the total number of valid ballots cast for a specific category (excluding those cast for “No Award” in first place) is less than twenty-five per cent (25%) of the total number of final Award ballots received.

Since 2,362 final Award ballots were cast in 2021, if any category received fewer than 591 votes in the

Diana M. Pho was nearly denied her
well-deserved first Hugo for Best
Editor Long Form due to Section 3.12.2.
We are glad that she got it.
(Photo by Rokne & Wakaruk)

final count, then a result of “No Award” would have been declared. Fancast received 632 votes, barely scraping past that 25 per cent threshold. Fanzine (643 votes), Editor – Long Form (667 votes), and Fan Writer (680 votes) were all poised near the abyss. For context, consider that 591 is more votes than any category received in 1963 when this rule was first proposed. Worldcon is growing and needs a way to address category relevance that makes sense for a larger membership.

It’s interesting to note that if just 159 more people had cast ballots for Best Novel without voting for Best Fanzine, then Nerds of a Feather would not have taken home the Hugo Award they so richly deserve. This points out a flaw in the current rules: the slightly more niche categories might end up being punished for the success of the higher-profile award categories.

From a read of fanzines contemporaneous to the creation of this rule, it doesn’t appear that this was what was intended by the rule. At the time, people kvetched about the possibility of categories in which the Hugo winner received 10 or fewer votes. It does not appear that they were worried about categories in which more than 500 people were voting.

Section 3.12.2 has a long and interesting history, with the original version of the rule appearing in the 1964 Constitution, having been added in the wake of concerns over the remarkably small number of voters participating in the 1963 Hugo Awards process. At this time, there was no specific threshold, but rather the rules provided Hugo Administrators the ability to nix a category based on “a marked lack of interest in the category on the part of voters.”

It should be noted that this was added at a time when fewer than 200 people participated in the nominating process, and fewer than 300 people voted on the final ballot. Rules crafted for the circumstances of the 1960s and 1970s do not necessarily work in the context of the 2020s.

Because of missing documents, we cannot pin down exactly when the rule in its current form was codified, but it was either in 1978 or 1979. As far as we can tell, this clarification was based on the work of Ben Yalow. By adding a specific threshold of 25 per cent to the rule, his proposal helped bring clarity to the process, and ensured that categories weren’t dismissed on the whim of any given committee.

“Hugo Administrators have a lot of discretion, but really hate to use it since all it does is get the convention criticized,” Yalow explains. “So giving specific rules, rather than broad general guidelines, keeps administrators out of the line of fire.”

The legendary Ben Yalow, whose
contributions to the WSFS constitution
are innumerable, helped craft
Section 3.12.2 in its current form.
(Photo by Rokne & Wakaruk)

In the late 1970s, this was an important and positive change; and the 25 per cent threshold made sense at that time, but things have changed in 40 years, and this threshold needs to be revised.

Over the course of the 1970s, the Hugos had an average of 800 people voting on the final Hugo ballot; at the time the “no Award presentation” threshold could be assumed to be 200 votes or so. And if a category were to only garner 200 votes, one could understand that this might be a sign that there was a lack of interest.

This rule also comes from a time in which there was far more parity between the number of votes in various categories. In 1980 (the first year that we have full voting statistics on the Hugos for), the category which received the fewest votes was Best Fan Writer. In that year, 884 out of 1,788 Hugo voters voted for Fan Writer, giving that category a participation rate of 49 per cent.

Four decades later, the number of people voting in the Fan Writer category has not substantially changed, but the numbers voting in the prose fiction categories has drastically increased. Thus, the percentage of voters engaged with this category has decreased. This means that these Hugo Award categories are being endangered not due to declining interest in those categories when counted by number of voters, but rather by the enthusiasm and growth of other categories.

Fundamentally, the decision about whether or not the Best Editor - Long Form award is worth running should not be contingent on how many people voted in the Best Dramatic Presentation category.

We would suggest that instead of a percentage threshold to indicate a lack of interest in a category, the WSFS should consider a fixed numerical threshold. Of course, just like the 25 per cent threshold, this would be an arbitrary number, but we feel that it should be set at a level that reflects a continued interest by a significant number of fans; clearly that threshold is higher than 10 people, but we’d argue that it’s also fewer than the 750 people that it might take to pass 25 per cent of a 3,000-voter Hugos that is not inconceivable in the near future. This number should be reviewed, likely every five years or so.

An alternate approach would be to change the result of a sub-25-per-cent participation in a category to a mandatory review of the category by the Hugo Awards Committee of the WSFS, rather than invalidating the work of those who did nominate and participate in the process.

Some Hugo Awards categories have become more well-known in the broader public, which is a fact that should be celebrated. But the Hugo Awards process needs to evolve to adjust to this broader acclaim without penalizing more niche award categories.

While these suggestions create more work for the WSFS Hugo Awards Study Committee, it would be an effort spent serving the mission of Worldcon and help ensure a representative, democratic process based on participation.

To repeat: The fan categories should not be doomed by the success of the prose categories.

The Award For Best Award

By our count, there are currently somewhat in excess of 50 different awards given out regularly every year

What makes people pay attention to
the Hugo Awards? History, process,
& focus. (Photo by Olav Rokne)

for science fiction and fantasy fiction, and another 60 or so defunct awards that were at some point handed out annually. These range from broad-based awards intended to showcase popular works, to regional and national awards, to awards for narrow niches in the genre, to those dedicated to advancing a specific ideology within genre fiction.

There are in fact enough award systems to warrant the effort of analysis to help decide which awards are worth paying attention to. Of course, dichotomous and divisive “success or failure” judgments are less useful than comparing how they’re organized and speculating about what might contribute to a robust and respected award. Examining the growing pains of recently created awards and thinking about why several smaller awards have managed to establish long-term relevance can also be helpful.

In our opinion, there are several major factors that can contribute to an awards system being perceived as having legitimacy: a track record of recognizing works that are broadly accepted as having enduring value; a consistent democratic and transparent process with accountability checks; and having a differentiated mandate that serves some segment of fandom.

The Weight of History

While subjecting awards to a ranking is, well, subjective, Hugo-winning fan writer Mike Glyer made a valiant effort to crowdsource a ranking of the top genre awards last year (though two of the awards listed have since changed their names). This gave fans a way to weigh in on which awards they felt were the most prestigious.

With slight variations, Glyer’s list falls roughly into chronological order by the date of these awards being established. The Hugos are at the top of the list, and that's probably in part because they are old, and have had the time to build a community and recognize more works that people love. In contrast, the Arthur C. Clarke Award jury never had an opportunity to hand out a trophy to the novel Dune.

Over time repetition becomes tradition, and tradition accrues the patina of respectability. However, reading fanzines and Worldcon publications from when the Hugos began in the mid-1950s, one gets a sense that the award did not engender much respect until later — many convention reports of the day limit coverage of the awards to statements such as “Some people won some awards.” In 1955, fan Wallace Weber describes the awards as the “low point of the convention.”

The Power of Process

The lack of respect shown to the Hugos during their early years may have to do with the inconsistent and ad hoc process by which the award was organized. Although always based on a public vote, the rules by which that vote took place varied from year to year, the categories on the ballot seemed to change randomly, and even the eligibility dates were wildly inconsistent.

Although it would be unfair to hold Hugo Awards of the 1950s to the same standards of process as modern awards, examining their stumbles, and how the process has evolved can be instructive.

The much-lamented presentation of the 1955 Hugo for best novel to Mark Clifton and Frank Reily’s

They'd Rather Be Right (AKA
The Forever Machine) would be
unlikely to win under modern
Hugo Awards balloting.
(Image via Wikipedia) 

They’d Rather Be Right actually points to the problems posed by a poorly engineered awards process. At that time, Hugo votes were cast via a write-in ballot and one-stage system. Thus, it was relatively easy for the award to go to a book that was loved by a small-but-enthusiastic group of fans, and to ignore the mainstream opinion. 

The creation of the WSFS constitution in 1963, and the subsequent gradual refinement of a relatively transparent awards voting system that balances participatory engagement with accountability has led to the Hugo process becoming one of the most robust. Although there have been a handful of attempts to subvert the award (such as the 1989 ballot-stuffing incident), these have been largely unsuccessful, which speaks to the quality of the process, and the dedication of WSFS business meeting participants.

Similarly, other recognizable awards have well-defined and robust procedures for selecting winners. The Nebulas, the Locus Award, the Clarke Award, the BSFA Award, are all open and consistent in their process; which engenders trust in the system among those paying attention.

There is a long tradition of inconsistent and ad-hoc processes in awards that have since faded from memory. It will be interesting to see if current attempts to launch new major awards will learn from or be plagued by these same errors of process. In particular, strong communication and clear focus are critical to establishing a long-running award.

Specific Focus

One of the reasons for the Hugo Awards’ survival through several years in which the process was irregular, and the award-winners were inconsistent, may have been that they had a specific mandate that was un-served by other contemporaneous literary awards: they were at the time the only game in town when it came to science fiction awards. Newer awards do not have that luxury; unless they are in some

It seems unlikely that a work 
like The Unincorporated Man
would gain much attention 
from mainstream awards. 
But the Prometheus Award
appeals to a specific niche. 
(Image via Amazon)

way different from the Hugos and Nebulas, they will likely continue to be compared unfavorably to the more established awards.

Perhaps proving the point, several awards have succeeded in part by finding their niche. For more than four decades, the Libertarian Futurist Society has recognized achievement in science fiction (and occasionally fantasy) that conforms to their worldview with the Prometheus Award. Similarly, the Otherwise Award (formerly known as the Tiptree) has an almost three-decade history of recognizing works of science fiction that explore an understanding of gender.

These may be narrow, and socio-political, categories, but the fact that the organizers and juries are up-front about their purpose helps them build a community willing to ensure sustainability.

The Carhullan Army by Sarah Hall is an excellent book, but appealed to too niche an audience to get Hugo or Nebula consideration. By recognizing The Carhullan Army, the Otherwise Award fulfilled a purpose by helping the book find new audiences.

When starting a new award for science fiction or fantasy, members of the general fannish public will always wonder “why should I pay attention to this award, rather than to the more established awards?” Having a clear mandate helps answer this existential question.

Doing it well

An example of a new award that seems to have been set up for long-term success can be found in the IGNYTE Award. The award was founded in 2020 by editors of FIYAH Magazine to “celebrate the vibrancy and diversity of the current and future landscapes of science fiction, fantasy.” Between this statement and FIYAH Magazine’s mission to promote works by BIPOC creators, the award has a relatively clear mandate (and one that has historically been underserved by existing awards).

Additionally, the award founders provided a clear description of the selection process: a 15-person jury to create a short-list, followed by public voting. Given that this award has been around for less than a year, it’s impossible to say whether that process will be robust and consistent, but they have clearly put thought into the process, and how it will fulfill the award’s mandate.

Conclusion

All awards systems have their structural biases, and the collective biases of the people making the selections. This is unavoidable and obvious in all areas of creative output.

Awards systems are by their very nature political; it is an expression of power dynamics to elevate one work over another, even when those deciding what gets elevated are doing so in good faith. It is therefore important to recognize the difference between suggesting that an award “got it wrong” with a selection, and suggesting that the entire awards system is invalid.

It is easy to find several examples through the years of reactionary awards systems that were created in protest of the decision made by more prominent awards. When they’re created with integrity and honesty about the political motivations, more new awards can add a lot of value to the evolving conversation about genre works.

But when the creators of an award offer little more than a vague declaration that the mainstream awards “are broken,” one has to question the motivation.

It’s OK when your favourite book doesn’t win.

With the full perspective of history, it would be difficult to argue that Warren G. Harding was a better presidential candidate than his opponent James Cox.

The two Ohio-based newspaper publishers faced off against each other a century ago in the presidential race of 1920 — Cox, a capable, well-liked reformer losing in one of the all-time landslides against a mediocre and unchallenging man who would go on to lead the most corrupt

James M. Cox (left) and his would-be
vice president. Whatever happened to
that guy? (photo via Forbes.com)

administration in U.S. history.

It’s a good reminder that democracy doesn’t always get it right — and that’s as true in presidential elections as it is in science fiction awards. But it’s a system that gets it more right, more of the time than any other, and it’s one of the reasons why I love the Hugo Awards.

Tomorrow night

With the Hugo Awards set to be presented tomorrow, here in Helsinki, I think that it’s an important thing to think about. Especially in light of some of the negativity surrounding the awards in recent years.

In our beloved democratic traditions of the Hugo Awards, sometimes the book you love isn’t going to win.

When I look over the awards, I’d probably say that my favourite books won on only a handful of years — and that’s just fine. A whole lot of amazing, excellent books that I would never have voted for have won, have found new readers, and have been celebrated.

The Big Time was good,
but On The Beach also
came out the same year.
(Image via Wikipedia)

The point is that an award is not undermined by a failure to recognize a great work … because they can’t all be honoured.

It can't all win

There is more great science fiction than can ever be recognized. In any given year, there are dozens of novels that deserve to win the Hugo Award, and you can’t give the Hugo to all of them. In 1958, Fritz Lieber deserved the Hugo Award for The Big Time … but so did Neville Shute for On The Beach, and Alfred Bester for The Stars My Destination, and Robert A. Heinlein for Citizen of the Galaxy.

Do I sometimes wonder why The Big Time got recognized at the expense of The Stars My Destination? Of course. But at the same time, it doesn’t undermine the legitimacy of the award or the process.

Maybe at the Minneapolis Worldcon in 2073, fans will be questioning how we voted in 2017. But I feel confident that they’ll respect the process, and continue to celebrate the excellent works that have been nominated.

Death’s End - Book Club Review

This is our third review of Hugo Nominated novels in 2017. The previous reviews were Closed and Common Orbit and The Obelisk Gate.

It would be difficult for any sequel to live up to Cixin Liu’s Hugo-Winning The Three Body Problem. The immediate sequel, The Dark Forest was an uneven and flawed book that had some merit. But the much-heralded conclusion of the trilogy, Death’s End, completely misses the mark.

At least the cover art is pretty cool.
(Image via Amazon.com) 

The plot is meandering and unfocused. Protagonist Cheng Xin is first introduced as an engineering student and object of desire, and later as the swordbearer — a person tasked with protecting humanity through mutual deterrence — but then becomes a time traveller observing various eras of civilization as humanity faces one massive world-ending crisis after another.

The End Is Nigh Again

One of the recurring themes in “big” science fiction is the impending end of the world. In Death’s End, the end of the world is nigh on no fewer than six occasions, only to be averted suddenly through deux et machina each time.  The frequency of these calamities within the book, and how precipitously they are forgotten devalues them, and left our book group struggling to care.

The character of Cheng Xin is one of the weakest parts of the book, as none of us were really able to understand her motivations or her personality. She’s faced with conflict after conflict throughout the book, and presented with a wide variety of moral dilemmas, but through it all she remains a cypher.

In the previous two books the author wrote from several points of view other than the main character.

Cixin Liu is China's most
popular SF author.
(Image via Tor.com)

Death’s End focuses almost solely on Cheng Xin, with just a brief portion from Tianming’s perspective. This leaves other interesting characters — like Luo Ji and Wade — on the sidelines. The omission of their perspectives is a missed opportunity that points to the lack of depth in the book.

Everything And The Kitchen Sink

Characters, however, do not seem to be what Liu is interested in as an author. He is a writer who likes to tackle ‘big ideas,’ and this book is jammed full of ‘big’ science fictional ideas: the weaponization of space-time geometry; societally determined gender selection; interstellar mutual deterrence; manipulating the speed of light; and the inevitable heat death of the universe.

If Liu had focused on one of these ideas instead of jumping from one to the next, the book might have been stronger. Both concepts and plot elements are suddenly dropped and never mentioned again. A whole chapter is dedicated to a black hole, which turns out to be entirely irrelevant. Human civilization is on the brink of war, but Cheng Xin miraculously stops the war in less than a page, at which point it becomes irrelevant.

Men Are From Mars Or Wherever

Some of us were troubled by the sexist assumptions that underpin portions of Death’s End’s plot. During a peaceful era that Cheng Xin explores, men are 'feminized' and indistinguishable from women, because according to the author, men are only needed for conflict. It’s an attitude that is demeaning to women, because it’s suggested they cannot deal with conflicts without men, and it’s demeaning to men because it suggests that all they are good for is fighting.

Because the book lacks any focus, and because Liu’s ideas are never fully explored, Death’s End ends up being less than the sum of its parts. The scattered plot, the scant development of these ideas, and the lack of human characters make this an unworthy nominee. Two years ago, most of our group voted for The Three Body Problem. This year, none of us are likely to rank Death’s End very high on our Hugo Ballot.

Retro Hugos 1947 (Part One: Novels)

If there had been Hugo awards presented in 1947, they would have been awarded at Philcon 1.

The fifth and possibly
largest Worldcon to that date
(Image via Worldcon.org)

The fifth Worldcon came to Philadelphia during a time of change and optimism for the city. The local baseball team, the Athletics, was in the process of snapping a multi-decade losing streak. The peace-time economy was providing new opportunities and prosperity to the diverse city. And the Philadelphia Free Library was experiencing an event of high psychokinetic activity that would later become known as the ‘Philadelphia Mass Turbulence of 1947.'

Science Fiction was at a turning point. Herbert George Welles, the titan of the genre, had just died. Up-and-comers of the pulp era were being discharged from the armed forces and returning to writing.

Three major figures in Science Fiction at the time worked at the Philadelphia naval yards: Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein and L. Sprague DeCamp, all of whom attended the convention.

Post-War Boom

The convention was possibly the biggest to date — the first one since the original Worldcon to break the 200-person mark in attendance.

Left to right, Heinlein, DeCamp and
Asimov in at the Philadelphia Naval
Yards in 1944. (Image via Wikipedia)

There were no Hugo awards presented at Philcon 1, as the awards wouldn’t be introduced for another five years, but it’s interesting to imagine the context in which these awards might have been presented. The awards would have recognized works published the previous year — the first year of post-war publishing.

Twenty-seven-year-old Isaac Asimov had written prolifically during the war, but only had one story up for consideration for the awards that year.  Robert A. Heinlein — in the middle of his second divorce — had turned his attention to political writing, rather than Science Fiction. Several other significant authors who served in the war weren’t able to return to writing until late 1946.

De Camp had only one short story to his name that year. James Blish published no novels that year. Nor did Nelson S. Bond.  Fritz Lieber’s name was not on any dust jacket.

Likely Nominations

Which would have left Hugo nominating committees with a dearth of works to recognize in the long-form categories. It would have been an unusually lopsided ballot, with three real contenders, and one truly outstanding work.  

A classic that is a product
of its time.
(Image via Wikipedia) 

The Skylark of Space was revised and expanded from E.E. Doc Smith’s much earlier short stories, and first saw print as a novel in 1946. It’s a deeply influential book, and was probably the most popular at the time. But it has aged more poorly than many books of the era, possibly betraying its earlier history from pre-John W. Campbell pulp magazines.

Canadian expatriate A.E. Van Vogt had moved to Hollywood in 1946, where he edited together his popular Slan stories into a novel that is an influential classic today. It is hard to imagine that it would have failed to make the Hugo shortlist had there been one, but since it won a Retro Hugo a few years back (for the serialized version in 1941), it is not eligible to be a contender for the 1947 Retro Hugo.

Which leaves Mervyn Peake’s masterpiece Titus Groan as the undisputed frontrunner for the 1947 Retro Hugo. 

Moody Masterpiece

Titus Groan — the first of the Gormenghast novels — is a singularly impressive book. The setting is richly imagined, evocative, moody and alive. The language is complex and nuanced (if a little florid and rococo at times).  The plot is ponderous, but well realized, and despite being unfinished because of Peake’s death, ultimately satisfying.

Image via
MervynPeake.org

If we were to list the greatest books that are usually classified as ‘fantasy,’ Titus Groan would be challenged for the top spot only by The Fellowship of the Ring and Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell.

But although it’s usually classified as ‘fantasy,’ Titus Groan (and the rest of the Gormenghast novels) do not contain any overtly fantastical elements.

It’s a series of palace intrigues set in a sprawling, arcane, labyrinthine castle, the likes of which does not, and has never existed. But it could have. The royal family is stranger and older than any medieval family — but not impossibly so.  Which begs the question: What is the edge of Science Fiction and Fantasy? Is this a book that we should be honouring with a Hugo Award?

Despite this major question, it seems inconceivable that Titus Groan should fail to garner both a Hugo nomination and the award. It’s just too good not to.

We look forward to voting for it on our ballot.

Do you have suggestions for works that might be worthy of consideration for the 1947 Retro Hugos that we may have missed? Please comment on this post.