The Winners of the 2018 Nebula Awards Are Stellar

The B&N Sci-Fi and Fantasy Blog

Last night, the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America handed out the 2018 Nebula Awards, recognizing the best sci-fi and fantasy books and short stories published in 2018. The winners were, predictably, out of this world—and we mean that literally in the case of the winner for Best Novel.

As we predicted, Mary Robinette Kowal took home the night’s top award for The Calculating Stars, an 1950s alternate history story of a women-led space race to Mars. “It’s filled with Mars!” Kowal exclaimed to open her acceptance speech, during which she praised the uniform excellence of her fellow nominees.

It’s certainly difficult to argue with her. The entire ballot—from Best Novel to Best Short Story—was packed with more than worthy winners, including many vying for their first Nebulas.

See the complete list of winners and nominees below:

Best Novel

WINNER: The Calculating Stars, by Mary Robinette Kowal (Tor)

The Poppy War, by R.F. Kuang (Harper Voyager US)
Blackfish City, by Sam J. Miller (Ecco)
Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik (Del Rey)
Witchmark, by C.L. Polk (Tor.com Publishing)
Trail of Lightning, by Rebecca Roanhorse (Saga Press)

Best Novella

WINNER: The Tea Master and the Detective, by Aliette de Bodard (Subterranean Press)

Fire Ant, by Jonathan P. Brazee (Semper Fi)
The Black God’s Drums, by P. Djèlí Clark (Tor.com Publishing)
Alice Payne Arrives, by Kate Heartfield (Tor.com Publishing)
Gods, Monsters, and the Lucky Peach, by Kelly Robson (Tor.com Publishing)
Artificial Condition, by Martha Wells (Tor.com Publishing)

Best Novelette

WINNER: The Only Harmless Great Thing, by Brooke Bolander (Tor.com Publishing)

The Last Banquet of Temporal Confections, by Tina Connolly (Tor.com)
An Agent of Utopia, by Andy Duncan (An Agent of Utopia)
The Substance of My Lives, the Accidents of Our Births, by José Pablo Iriarte (Lightspeed)
The Rule of Three, by Lawrence M. Schoen (Future Science Fiction Digest)
Messenger, by Yudhanjaya Wijeratne and R.R. Virdi (Expanding Universe, Volume 4)

Best Short Story

WINNER: “The Secret Lives of the Nine Negro Teeth of George Washington”, by P. Djèlí Clark (Fireside)

“Interview for the End of the World”, by Rhett C. Bruno (Bridge Across the Stars)
“Going Dark”, by Richard Fox (Backblast Area Clear)
“And Yet”, by A.T. Greenblatt (Uncanny, March/April 2018)
“A Witch’s Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies”, by Alix E. Harrow (Apex, February 2018)
“The Court Magician”, by Sarah Pinsker (Lightspeed, January 2018)

Best Game Writing

WINNER: Black Mirror: Bandersnatch, by Charlie Brooker (House of Tomorrow & Netflix)

The Road to Canterbury, by Kate Heartfield
God of War, by Matt Sophos, Richard Zangrande Gaubert, Cory Barlog, Orion Walker & Adam Dolin
Rent-A-Vice, by Natalia Theodoridou
The Martian Job, by M. Darusha Wehm

The Ray Bradbury Award for Outstanding Dramatic Presentation

WINNER: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (Screenplay by Phil Lord and Rodney Rothman, directed by Peter Ramsey, Bob Persichetti, Rodney Rothman)

The Good Place: “Jeremy Bearimy” (Written by Megan Amram, directed by Trent O’Donnell)
Black Panther (Written by Ryan Coogler and Joe Robert Cole, directed by Ryan Coogler)
A Quiet Place (Screenplay by John Krasinski, Bryan Woods, and Scott Beck, directed by John Krasinski)
Dirty Computer (Written by Janelle Monáe and Chuck Lightning)
Sorry to Bother You (Written and directed by Boots Riley)

The Andre Norton Award for Outstanding Young Adult Science Fiction or Fantasy Book

WINNER: Children of Blood and Bone, by Tomi Adeyemi (Henry Holt)

Aru Shah and the End of Time, by Roshani Chokshi (Rick Riordan Presents)
A Light in the Dark, by A.K. DuBoff (BDL)
Tess of the Road, by Rachel Hartman (Random House)
Dread Nation, by Justina Ireland (Balzer + Bray)
Peasprout Chen: Future Legend of Skate and Sword, by Henry Lien (Henry Holt)

Did your favorites pick up any awards last night?

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Blogging the Nebulas: Calculating the Odds

The B&N Sci-Fi and Fantasy Blog

This is my fifth year #BloggingTheNebulas. For two years running, I’ve managed to predict the winner correctly. The two years before that, not so much. I would say that gives me even odds of getting it right this time around, but that’s not really how award predictions work. I can point at current trends or past preferences among the Nebula voters, but untimely what is being judged are the merits of a work of art. A book’s impact on any given reader is personal, and the personal defies statistics.

The Nebula nominees for Best Novel are generally excellent: a half-dozen or so sifted out of the hundreds published every year by other pro writers who know craft when they see it. Though I try not to let my own tastes influence my predictions—I am not a Nebula voter—I’d like to note just how much I personally enjoyed every single nominee this year. My shaky prediction of which one might win should not be taken as a criticism of those that might not. For me, reading (or rereading) all six nominees has been its own reward.

With that, I’ll begin with the books I think are less likely to take home the Nebula. It is here I will slot in our three debut novels: Witchmark, by C.L. Polk; The Poppy Warby R.F. Kuang; and Trail of Lightning, by Rebecca Roanhorse. There is recent precedent for a first novel winning the Nebula—Ann Leckie’s Ancillary Justice in 2014; Paolo Bacigalupi’s The Windup Girl in 2009—but writers tend to only get better with each book. (I’m putting an asterisk next to Charlie Jane Anders’ win for All the Birds in the Sky in 2017; while it was a first genre novel, it wasn’t her first novel, and that year was strange in other ways—five of the six nominees were debuts of one kind or another, and the sixth was a sequel.) Generally, I think later books in an author’s career have a leg up.

C.L. Polk’s Witchmark is set at the end of a Great War, in a world recalling but not exactly own early 20th century England—this one has been influenced by a magical system that has been twisted for political ends. The main character is a physician who was once a subjugated member of one his country’s ruling magical families; in order to escape being used as a sort of human battery for his sister’s magic, Miles Singer joined the military and escaped to the front lines. (That war seemed preferable to chaining his life to his sister’s power tells you something important about the privileged life he rejected.) Witchmark addresses the very personal effects of empire building: our physician’s patients are all soldiers suffering from the psychological traumas of war, and he himself has not gone unscathed by both his upbringing and his time as a soldier. I really enjoyed the bike-punk Edwardian aesthetic, and the way the novel manages to illustrate the grand machinations of empire through the personal perspective of one person. But it is still a first novel, displaying (minor) issues with pacing and the overall plotting. The sequel, Stormsong, arrives early next year, and it will be a treat to return to that world, and likely a stronger book, befitting the maturing talents of the author.

R.F. Kuang’s The Poppy War is such an ambitious novel, I almost can’t believe it’s a debut. The plot follows a war orphan  named Rin from her humble beginnings in a backwater province to a position of national import. When she aces the national test for admittance into Nikan’s most prestigious military academy, Sinegard, she is relieved to escape her small, mean life. However, Sinegard proves to be no escape: her fellow students are mostly the privileged children of wealth, not dark-skinned orphans, and many of her teachers consider her an upstart and a usurper. The novel’s first half is something like a boarding school fantasy, though with none of the coziness that description implies. At the midway point, everything changes: Nikan restarts hostilities with the neighboring Federation, and Rin and her fellow students are thrust out of the schoolroom and onto the battlefield. The Poppy War is a brutal national epic with a protagonist who is as terrifying as she is tenacious. Though it is a truly prodigious work, there just isn’t much precedent for large-scale epic fantasies picking up the prize, especially when they are first novels. Consider: of the books in George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, only A Clash of Kings was Nebula nominated, and that was 20 years ago (it lost to Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Talents). N.K. Jemisin’s The Stone Sky, which won best novel last year, is a fantasy novel of incredible scope, but it was the culmination of an acclaimed trilogy, and most definitely not a debut.

First novels can take risks you don’t necessarily see in later ones; there’s just something about experiencing all that raw potential and talent struggling free. Rebecca Roanhorse’s Trail of Lightning is a revelatory debut, a post-apocalyptic tale set in what was once a Navajo reservation, before the drowning of the world. The opening finds Maggie Hoskie, a monster hunter of the Dine, in a self-imposed exile. She’s drawn out to find a missing child, and what she uncovers during her mission sends her back out into the world. For a person with a magical talent for killing, this isn’t necessarily a good thing—for the world or for Maggie. It is an active, inventive novel, and Maggie’s voice is just aces—urban fantasy can sometimes feel a little sleepy, but Trail of Lightning shocks the genre to life. Though debut novels, not to mention urban fantasy novels, rarely take home the prize (and there isn’t an example of a winner that’s both), Trail of Lightning is so much fun, and so daring, I’ll peg it as a dark horse contender.

Next up is Blackfish City by Sam J. Miller. Like All the Birds in the Sky, Blackfish City isn’t really a first novel, but it’s the author’s first novel eligible for a Nebula. Also calling it a debut doesn’t quite do justice to the author’s prior career—this is the fourth time Miller has been up for a Nebula award, following several short story nods, and in 2018 he took home the Andre Norton Award for The Art of Starving. Blackfish City is probably the most metal of all of this year’s contenders (though Trail of Lightning is a close second): it opens with an orcamancer riding a skiff with a polar bear in chains at her side, and just gets cooler from there. The book takes place in the floating city of Qaanaaq, located in swollen, post-climate change Arctic waters. The city is owned by shadowy figures but run by an impersonal AI. The arrival of the orcamancer—and what she represents—upsets the delicate equilibrium of the city. This one is another strong contender. The cli-fi setting is timely, and more importantly, the novel skirts the line between scifi and fantasy in a way that a number of recent winners have: the orcamancer and the strange wasting disease afflicting the city seem almost magical, even while the trappings of the world are cyberpunk. Blackfish City would fit right in with previous winners like The Stone Sky, which blends straight up magic with smart geological science, and All the Bird in the Sky, which very deliberately invokes both science fictional and magical tropes.

Still, I think even Sam J. Miller’s marvelous book will come in behind one of our final two: Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik, and The Calculating Stars, by Mary Robinette Kowal. Both Kowal and Novik are well established writers with dozens of nominations and a whole raft of awards between them. (As an odd aside: they both got their starts writing alt-Regency fantasy.) The first two of Kowal’s Glamourist History series were both nominated for the Nebula, and the novelette prequel to The Calculating Stars, “The Lady Astronuat of Mars,” was awarded the Hugo for best novelette. Novik’s previous novel, Uprooted, took home the Nebula in 2016. Both writers have a firm command of language and a polished prose style, and both know how to construct a novel. Either could take home the Nebula and I wouldn’t bat an eye.

Spinning Silver isn’t a sequel to Uprooted, but it offers a similar fairy tale sensibility, drawn from Eastern European history and legend. The novel primarily follows three young women: Miryem, the daughter of a moneylender; Irina, the daughter of a boyar with aspirations; and Wanda, the daughter of a serf. In the first third, both Miryem and Irina are married to powerful men: a fairy king (here called the Staryk) and the Tsar himself, respectively. In a fairy tale, their royal marriages would serve as happy endings. Here, they are just the start of a larger story. Fairy tales often follow a trajectory from humble beginnings to royalty—lucky Hans leaves home, and by then end, rules the country. But Spinning Silver never loses its focus on the day to day, the personal, and the complex web of friendship, family, and country that binds a life. Uprooted was a tough act to follow, but Spinning Silver is, if anything, more enthralling than its predecessor. But two things make me hesitate to declare it the likely winner. While it is precisely the kind of high fantasy novel that Nebula voters go for (its predecessor’s win three years ago proves that), past voters have shown an (admittedly dwindling) preference for science fiction over fantasy. Moreover, Novik took home an award for best novel just three years ago, and I think the voters will lean toward someone who hasn’t been so recently fêted.

Which brings me to The Calculating Stars. The novel details an alt-history Space Race through the eyes of one woman, Elma York. In 1952, a meteor strikes the planet outside of Washington DC and, as a consequence, most of the Easter seaboard is destroyed. Because of the greenhouse effect caused by the resulting steam in the atmosphere, the Earth will be inhabitable within a few short centuries. The Space Race that follows is thus one against time, and not the Soviets. Elma, who is trained as both a human calculator and a pilot, is determined to be one of the first people go toMars. Though the barriers to her becoming an astronaut are changed in this alternate timeline—if we are going to colonize other planets, women must be included—they are not inconsequential. But The Calculating Stars isn’t just about Elma’s professional goals: her struggles with anxiety offer a personal counterpoint to the institutional hurdles she faces, and are a direct result of both her education and the cataclysm of the recent past. Elma is an incredibly competent, accomplished person who is nonetheless occasionally overwhelmed by self doubt.

In addition to being just an excellent novel, The Calculating Stars is also meticulously researched and (though this is harder to quantify) really, really cool. Many of us start reading science fiction in part because of that sense of discovery and wonder: what’s out there, just a little farther into the black? Even though I was born after Neil Armstrong took his famous first steps on the moon, The Calculating Stars captured for me the air of a whole generation of people yearning for the sky, and for what is beyond the sky, in a visceral way. For that reason, more than any other, I think it will be named the winner of the 2018 Nebula Award for Best Novel.

Whether I’m right or wrong, I wish all the nominees the best of luck. It was an honor to read such a fine group of novels.

Who do you think will win the Nebula this year? Find full reviews of this year’s nominees here. Previous years’ Blogging the Nebulas entries are here.

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6 Essential Works by 2019 SFWA Grand Master William Gibson

The B&N Sci-Fi and Fantasy Blog

During next week’s Nebula Award weekend, venerable science fiction writer William Gibson will be honored as the 35th Damon Knight Grand Master by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America.

It’s a pretty huge deal: he joins such genre luminaries as Isaac Asimov, Peter S. Beagle, Ursula K. Le Guin, and Samuel R. Delany in recognition of his lifelong contribution to SFF literature. After bursting onto the scene with Neuromancer in 1984—a debut that went on to pick up both the Hugo and the Nebula—he’s maintained a metronome-steady career, putting out a new novel every three to four years while penning music reviews and critical essays, short fiction, screenplays, and comics on the side.

Gibson’s fiction has always been close to my heart. Burning Chrome, his short story collection from 1986, was pressed into my hands a few years after it was first published, and it rewred my brain. I was in high school at the time, at a humdrum school in the Midwest, and I simply couldn’t believe how grimy-sleek and techno-cool were the worlds he imagined. His work felt so different from the other science fiction I was reading at the time—Asimov, Herbert, the usual suspects—thickly urban, technologically stunning, displaying a weird mix of airless opulence and grubby street charm. I moved on to Neuromancer and immediately became a fan for life; its sequels and followup series spooled out across the years, and each was immediately downloaded into my central cortex, rewriting the code of my existence. Gibson is the first writer I followed from book to book, waiting to love whatever he wrote next.

With that context in mind, here are six essential books in William Gibson’s impressive catalog.

Neuromancer
The first sentence of Gibson’s first novel is oft-cited alongside other perfect opening lines: “The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.”

It was only a few years ago (during my umpteenth reread) that I realized that one of the possible meanings of this line is a literal one: the port is covered with interlocking geodesic domes, a shining domed city run to ruin, speckled with broken panels that let the rain in. The ur-text of cyberpunk follows low level criminal and console cowboy Henry Case as he gets in over his head with street samurai, razorgirls, cloned daughters of industrialist royalty, and the best-laid plans of two inscrutable artificial intelligences. Invented slang generally doesn’t age well, but the tech patois of Neuromancer holds up, partially because it influenced how we speak and think about our new digital reality.

Burning Chrome
Though it has passed out of common parlance, for a long time we referred to the internet as “cyberspace,” a term that was coined in a short story featured in this collection and gained more traction when it reappeared in Neuromancer. (Due to the vagaries of publishing dates, the short story “Burning Chrome” was published first in Omni in 1982, two years before Neuromancer, but only widely republished in this collection two years after that.) Burning Chrome includes one of my top five favorite short stories ever: “The Gernsback Continuum”, about a phtotojournalist who begins hallucinating the futurism of the past superimposed upon the present. This is a wonderful collection of short fiction, full up with brio sketches of the people and places Gibson will become best known for; a cyberpunk grimoire.

Fun facts: Two of its stories were adapted into films: New Rose Hotel, which stars Christopher Walken, Asia Argento, and Willem Defoe (if you can believe it) and Johnny Mnemonic, which stars Keanu Reeves, Dolph Lundgren, and Ice-T. The latter is worth seeking out for its high camp value, delivered via a screenplay by Gibson himself. The author has written for the screen several times, and some of his scripts were even filmed, including two episodes of The X-Files during its pop culture heyday, while some which were not—though his unused script for the third Alien movie will soon be reimagined as an audio drama. (Apparently the only detail from his script that made it to the screen? The barcode tattoos that appear on the backs of the prisoners’ necks.)

The Difference Engine (with Bruce Sterling)
In The Difference Engine, Gibson and Sterling twisted cyberpunk into something both new and old, imagining the intrusion of various disruptive technologies well before they were culturally widespread. Which is to say: its Victorians have developed punch-card computers they use in the service of typically Victorian notions of class and criminality, like they would, those stuffy Victorians. It was here I first encountered Ada Lovelace, the only legitimate daughter of Lord Byron, and the mathematician considered by some to be the first programmer. And thus, steampunk was born. (Gibson’s most famous aphorism—“The future is already here—it’s just not very evenly distributed”—holds true even in the past.) As a novel, The Difference Engine maybe isn’t the most compelling, but the ideas, man. The ideas.

All Tomorrow’s Parties
All Tomorrow’s Parties, which takes it name from a Velvet Underground song, is the culmination of Gibson’s Bridge trilogy, which aptly enough centers on the eponymous Bay Bridge, which has been commandeered as a sort of vertical, spanning shantytown in the wake of earthquakes that decimated both California and Tokyo. The book collects the disparate people and themes of the previous two novels into a loose slipknot of an ending. Gibson’s finales don’t tend to the explosive, and a common complaint is that they end inconclusively. But I think his endings are more like creeper highs, best appreciated at a bit of a remove, after they’ve had time to expand in your mind. One of the endings within All Tomorrow’s Parties has stayed with me for years, for so long that I eventually had my own private name for what in the hell he was doing, and what it meant to me. Gibson really is a visionary, though I suspect that label would annoy him.

Pattern Recognition
Pattern Recognition marked a sea-change in Gibson’s fiction, pulling back from the techno-future to the almost present. Heretofore, much of his fiction seemed set 20 minutes into the future, riding technology and its warping effects into near-future almost-nows. Pattern Recognition, instead, is on the bleeding edge of the then-present, which still feels like our now, detailing technologies out of the reach of the average human, but not impossible or unheard of. I think it is the first novel I read after 9/11 that incorporated the fall of the Twin Towers into its overt plot: main character Cayce Pollard’s CIA spook dad vanished after the attack, like he simply couldn’t exist in a post-9/11 world. There’s some winking to his first trilogy: Cayce pronounces her name like Neuromancer‘s own Henry Case. But Cayce lives in the here and now, in the unevenly distributed present. (And, speaking of the Bleeding Edge, there’s some back and forth between Pattern Recognition and the works of post-modern master Thomas Pynchon, but that’s a whole other rabbit hole to explore.)

The Peripheral
After completing the Blue Ant trilogy, which takes place in the here-and-now-ish, The Peripheral strikes back out into not just one, but two futures. The Peripheral is also the first Gibson novel to take on the post-apocalyptic themes, at least overtly. (One could certainly argue that the Sprawl is at the most basic a mid-apocalyptic hellscape, though that might be semantics.) It shifts forward and more forward in time, from before the vague occurrence of the cataclysm called the Jackpot, to after, in a largely empty world. After the almost comforting familiarity of his proceeding books, The Peripheral felt like a leap into the black both structurally and thematically, experimental in ways I hadn’t quite seen before in Gibson’s work. I can’t wait to see what he does when he returns to its setting in Agency, which will be partially set in an alternate timeline in which Hillary Clinton won the 2016 presidential election. The book is currently scheduled for release in January 2020, though it has been delayed a few times already. Planning the future—more than one, actually—takes time, you know.

Honorable mentions

Distrust That Particular Flavor
This work of non-fiction collects several decades’ worth of Gibson’s essays—everything from a late ’80s musing about the future of “the Net” (remember when we called it that?) to his thoughtful writing about music and literature. Though he’s not as prone to essaying in his fiction as some other cyberpunk authors (*cough* Neal Stephenson), he’s not bad at the form.

Archangel (co-written by Michael St. John Smith, with art by Butch Guice, Alejandro Barrionuevo  and Wagner Reis)
Gibson’s only foray into comics to date. There’s something of a genre joke in the setup: Junior Henderson goes back in time and kills his grandfather, only to replace him. This premise might be is one of the hoariest old chestnuts of time travel fiction, so naturally, Gibson duly blows it to pieces, as he does.

William Gibson will be honored with the Damon Knight Memorial Grand Master Award during this year’s Nebula Awards weekend, May 16-19, 2019.

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StarWars.com Team Wins Emmy for Arrested Development / Star Wars Mashup

StarWars.com

To paraphrase Buster Bluth, “This is our award, Mother. From Emmy.”

We’re thrilled to report that the StarWars.com team won its first-ever Emmy this weekend for The Star Wars Show segment “Arrested DevelopmentStar Wars with Ron Howard!” in the Outstanding Daytime Promotional Announcement – Topical category. The video, a mashup of Star Wars with the iconic opening credits of Arrested Development, was narrated by Solo: A Star Wars Story director Ron Howard and went viral upon release, amassing over 700,000 views on YouTube alone. Watch it below!

“I couldn’t be more proud of the accomplishments of this team,” said Mickey Capoferri, senior director, online content and programming, and executive producer of The Star Wars Show. “It’s amazing to be recognized by the Television Academy for the work we love to do.”

StarWars.com team's John Harper, Mickey Capoferri, Andi Gutierrez, Anina Walas, Tony Sherg, and Scott Bromley.

Left to right: John Harper, Mickey Capoferri, Andi Gutierrez, Anina Walas, Tony Sherg, and Scott Bromley.

Members of the StarWars.com team named as Emmy winners for the video include Capoferri, Scott Bromley (writer, producer), John Harper (editor, producer), Andi Gutierrez (associate producer, host), Dana Jennings (associate producer), and Tony Sherg (production designer).

Arrested DevelopmentStar Wars with Ron Howard!” was created as part of The Star Wars Show, Lucasfilm’s weekly variety series devoted the saga, in support of Solo.

Thank you to everyone who watched and shared the video, as well as Ron Howard, without whom it would not have been possible.

StarWars.com. All Star Wars, all the time.

Site tags: #StarWarsBlog

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Blogging the Nebulas: The Calculating Stars Thrillingly Reimagines the Space Race

The B&N Sci-Fi and Fantasy Blog

Editor’s note: The Nebula Awards are often described as the Academy Awards of SFF literature. Like the Oscar, the Nebula is voted on by the professional peers of the award nominees—members of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America. There are six nominees in the best novel category this year; every two weeks between now and the awards ceremony on May 18, Ceridwen Christensen will be taking a look at each of them, and figuring their odds of taking home the prize.

The Pitch:

In 2014, Mary Robinette Kowal’s “The Lady Astronaut of Mars” was awarded the Hugo for Best Novelette. In that story, the titular lady astronaut, Dr. Elma York, is living on Mars with her husband when she’s confronted with a dilemma: she has a chance to undertake one last mission as an astronaut—she hasn’t flown in decades due to her age—or stay behind with her husband, who is dying of a wasting disease. We’re given some biographical information about Elma, her husband Nathaniel, and the alternate history they inhabit, but only in broad strokes. The genuinely heart-wrenching choice Elma must make is truly the center of the piece.

The Calculating Stars is a prequel to that novelette, and tells the incredible life story of the woman who will one day become the Lady Astronaut of Mars.

This is a book that starts with a bang, quite literally. Elma and her husband are vacationing in the Poconos when they’re hit with a flash so powerful that even behind closed eyelids, it is bright as day. Through their shocked conversation that follows, and then the subsequent earthquake, we begin to comprehend the suddenly changed shape of their world. Their first thought is of a nuclear attack by the Soviets, but when they start seeing ejecta from the impact site burning down from the sky, it quickly becomes clear that a meteorite has hit somewhere to the east of them (as scientists, they know nuclear weapons don’t kick up dust and debris). After a terrifying journey further inland to a military base in Ohio, Nathaniel is put right to work in his capacity as an engineer. (He was previously instrumental in a successful satellite launch that put an object in space before the Russians, so he’s known to the brass.) Though Elma was a pilot in World War II—a WASP—she’s sidelined by a fellow pilot (and grade-A jerk) she worked with during the War. It is 1952; President John Dewey and most of the government are dead; Washington DC and the several hundred miles surrounding it have been vaporized.

The scale of the disaster is staggering. Elma’s parents were in Charlotte, NC, in the affected area, and are presumed dead. She and Nathaniel, who lived in DC, only survived by happenstance. Things get much bleaker when, after Nathaniel asks her to perform some calculations for him, Elma figures out that the meteorite strike is probably an eventual extinction-level event. Because the meteorite stuck water, not land, the resulting vapor in the air will eventually cause a runaway greenhouse effect. (It is theorized that such a circumstance explains why Venus is a molten hellscape with sulfuric acid rain, despite being Earth’s twin in many other regards.)

The Space Race, nudged a little bit earlier in this timeline, is already in full swing. With global extinction looming, the imperative to get off Earth becomes that much more dire. The Calculating Stars details a Space Race not against the Soviets, but against time.

Elma pushes doggedly towards her goal of becoming an astronaut. Though she’s a strong and gifted woman, she is beset by doubts and healthy attacks of Impostor Syndrome. Though they are completely standalone, The Calculating Stars makes “The Lady Astronaut of Mars” that much more poignant, as we live through Elma and Nathaniel’s long years of marriage. Though their relationship is not the primary focus of the novel, it is its beating heart.

Why it will win:

I think The Calculating Stars is in a very strong position to win the Nebula this year. Alternate histories maybe don’t have the best odds, Michael Chabon’s win for Yiddish Policemen’s Union 11 years ago notwithstanding, but Kowal’s has so much more going for it than mere subgenre specialization.

Its alternate history is incredibly well-researched (so much so that there’s a bibliography and a dense historical note at the end of the novel that will stack several more books onto your to-read pile). This is hard science fiction in the vein of Kim Stanley Robinson, who has two best novel Nebulas (for Red Mars and 2312). Kowal has a detailed grasp of the science involved and never hand-waves, but neither does she bore you with trivia; the novel remains firmly grounded in Elma’s character. That Elma’s relationship with science is foundational makes Kowal’s care with scientific detail all the more vital.

The Calculating Stars is also both timely and sensitive to history. Though Kowal began the novel before Hidden Figures became an unexpected blockbuster film, the success of the movie was a stroke of luck. It exposed to the general public the important work performed by the black women who served as NASA’s human computers. Though the 1950s and 60s of the “Meteor Age” of Kowal’s novel look very different (here Elma would mutter “it was a meteorite”), even in this changed world the social movements of the post-War era still proceed apace.

The post-Meteor world is more open in some ways: the Soviet Union collapses in the nuclear winter, ending the Cold War, and the race to the stars becomes a truly international endeavor. That doesn’t mean that institutional sexism and racism cease to exist, however: Elma and Nathaniel are initially placed with a black couple, the Lindholms, after they’re displaced, a Major and another computer, and the pair end up becoming their close friends. Through their contrasting experiences, we see not only Elma’s struggles as a woman in a technological field, but the perspectives of people of color as well.

Plus, the book is just cool. Mars is cool. Astronauts are awesome. Though the plot is often more political jockeying than breathless action after that initial section, it never feels slow. Partially because of the debilitating anxiety Elma experiences when speaking to groups (especially groups of men), even simple meetings are braced with tension. And while it is but the first in a duology—The Fated Sky was released only a few months later—it follows a clear trajectory right through to a transcendent conclusion, one that made me tear up—not out of sadness but in wonder.

Why it won’t win: 

I’m at a bit of a loss here. The Calculating Stars does face some stiff competition this year, though I think its most direct comes by way of Naomi Novik’s Spinning Silver. They are both books by well established writers (whose first series, curiously, were both alt-Regency) who have serious chops. But even then, in historical terms, science fiction tends to beat out fantasy for best novel honors at the Nebulas. Honestly, The Calculating Stars has about the best chance to win of the nominees, based on the precedents and tendencies of Nebula voters in past years. But people are not statistics, and they may break for fairy tales over alt-history this year. Nebula voters have been tending more to fantasy than they did 30 years ago, so it’s not as strong an indicator as it once was.

Either way, you better believe that the next book on my to-read pile is The Fated Sky. I wouldn’t miss it. You shouldn’t either.

We’ll have one more entry in this year’s Blogging the Nebulas series, making our final prediction as to who will win. Look for that on Friday, May 17. In the meantime, find reviews of this year’s other nominees here. Previous years’ Blogging the Nebulas entries are here.

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Blogging the Nebulas: C.L. Polk’s Witchmark Deftly Balances Character and Worldbuilding

The B&N Sci-Fi and Fantasy Blog

Editor’s note: The Nebula Awards are often described as the Academy Awards of SFF literature. Like the Oscar, the Nebula is voted on by the professional peers of the award nominees—members of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America. There are six nominees in the best novel category this year; every two weeks between now and the awards ceremony on May 18, Ceridwen Christensen will be taking a look at each of them, and figuring their odds of taking home the prize.

The pitch:

From the very first page, Witchmark drops readers into the thick of it. Dr. Miles Singer is just finishing up a long shift at the veterans’ hospital, contemplating a directive that he discharge 16 patients by week’s end, whether they are healthy or not. Aeland’s war with Laneer is over. The victorious wounded are heading home to the imperfect care of their homeland, displacing other soldiers just as damaged. Miles was a soldier himself, which is the overt reason he’s so good at healing the mental injuries of war. The covert reason is that Miles is a magic user—a witch—who has a talent for healing that he must obfuscate and a dangerous past that requires him to live under an alias.

His rueful contemplation is interrupted by a dying man, Nick Elliot, brought into a hospital ill-equipped to provide emergency care. Nick asks for Miles specifically, though he uses Miles’ name from the life he escaped. The dying man also has the aura of a witch and tells Miles that he has been murdered—poisoned—and entreats him to find the killer. Watching their interaction is the man who brought the dying Nick Elliot to Miles, one Tristan Hunter. Miles’ conversation with Nick exposes his magical abilities and his past. After Elliot’s death, Miles fully expects to be blackmailed by Tristan, but that’s not precisely what happens. Hunter has his own inscrutable motivations, and he pushes Miles to uncover the motive for and methods of the man’s death.

The very next day, as bad luck would have it, Miles runs into his estranged sister, Grace. Miles was born into a life of both privilege and servitude: his sister is a Storm-Singer, able to control the weather to the benefit of all Aeland, and he is her Secondary. The Secondary may have skills of his or her own, but they are treated like batteries by the powerful Storm-Singers, used to strengthen their more dominant magical abilities. When assisted by Miles, Grace has the magic to affect the climate on a mass scale; alone she is not nearly as powerful.

Storm-Singing is a practice the secretive, aristocratic Hundred Families have been performing for Aeland for at least a century: turning the storms and mitigating all severe weather, even while Aeland at large persecutes anyone with magical abilities as a matter of policy. Miles didn’t want to live his life under magical duress, so he ran—first to med school and then to the front, faking his death and sequestering himself in the veteran’s hospital upon his return to Aeland. Grace wants Miles to return to fold; their father is sick and needs Miles’ medical attention.

Miles then pursues both matters independently—the murder mystery and the contact with his family—though the plotlines soon begin to collide and converge. His relationships with his sister and the mysterious Tristan Hunter draw Miles out of the penitential cell of a life he’s built for himself, forcing him to confront his past and maybe even start building a future.

The setting is something like Edwardian England just after the ravages of the Great War, but twisted with magic that encodes the colonial subjugations of the British Empire. Miles is both privileged and subjugated. In solving the murder of Nick Elliot, reacquainting himself with his sister, and doctoring to his fellow soldiers, he pulls strings that cause his hidden past and the needs of the empire to intersect in dangerous and volatile ways. The world of Witchmark is complicated and cool, but the story never falters in its attention to character.

Why it will win:

Witchmark is so deft in its balance between worldbuilding and character, it’s hard to believe it’s Polk’s first published novel. The information about the world unspools deftly, never leaving the audience behind nor handholding overmuch. Though I don’t have anything like statistics on whether it matters (see below), the book is told in a lovely first-person voice, the kind where the narrator’s tics and avoidances are as integral to the plot as his desires and needs. It’s not that the world bends to him, more that he bends to the world.  The magic system is complicated and the setting suggests a dense history, but Polk seemingly effortlessly makes what is important clear to the reader while maintaining a briskly plot (bicycle chases are a prominent feature). I can see other writers rewarding the tight craft of the novel; they are, after all, the Nebula voters.

This is more stray observation than anything else, but I went looking to see if there was any preference in past Nebula winners for first or third person voice, if only because Witchmark’s first person is so arresting. Prior winners suggest no particular pattern: Charlie Jane Anders’ All the Birds in the Sky is in third-person, Naomi Novik’s Uprooted is in first-person, Jeff VanderMeer’s Annihilation and Ann Leckie’s Ancillary Justice are both in first-person, Kim Stanley Robinson’s 2312 is in third-person. Last year’s winner,  N.K. Jemisin’s The Stone Skywas partially in second person, though technically there is a first person narrator hiding behind the “you” narrative. There seems to be no evidence that point of view factors in who takes home the prize, which makes sense to me: different writers have different strengths in that regard, just like they do for tense or any other technical aspect of writing. That Witchmark is told in lovely first person doesn’t necessarily factor, but the skill at which Polk carries it off certainly does.

Why it won’t win:

Alas, I don’t think either historical science fiction or fantasy tend to be favored by Nebula voters, and historical fantasy is an especially hard sell. Which is to say: while I recognize that Witchmark isn’t exactly a historical novel—it’s not precisely about Edwardian England and WWI—it has enough signifiers of the literature of the time to make it historical-adjacent. There are a number of recent Nebula nominees in this half-historical place—Mary Robinette Kowal’s Shades of Milk and Honey, Lara Elena Donnelly’s Amberlough, Tina Connolly’s Ironskinbut none of them took home the prize. Blackout/All Clear, which was largely set in WWII, picked up the Nebula in 2011, but that was more science fiction than fantasy—and also by a writer as beloved and accomplished as Connie Willis. Witchmark is on solidly magical terrain.

Witchmark is also Polk’s debut. All things being equal (and with notable exceptions), Nebula voters tend to lean toward established writers. It’s an industry award on some level, and though that industry is the arts, one’s connections within the industry do matter. Established writers also have had time to hone their craft; Witchmark is a very accomplished novel, but there are a couple dropped threads in the narrative. It’s entirely possible they’ll get picked up again in the sequel, Stormsong, but the award is for the novel, not the series.

That said, I can assure you I will be reading the hell out of the series. Polk is an author to watch, and I’m very much looking forward to what she writes next.

Follow along with this year’s Blogging the Nebulas series here. See previous years’ entries here.

The post Blogging the Nebulas: C.L. Polk’s Witchmark Deftly Balances Character and Worldbuilding appeared first on The B&N Sci-Fi and Fantasy Blog.

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American Museum of Natural History Event Honoring Brazil’s Rainforest-Hating President Sparks Uproar

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A museum dedicated to conserving nature and Brazil’s far right wing president intent on opening the Amazon rainforest to mining, logging, and fossil fuel exploration while kicking indigenous groups off their land may seem like odd bedfellows. And yet New York’s American Museum of Natural History (AMNH) is slated to…

Read more…

https://earther.gizmodo.com/american-museum-of-natural-history-event-honoring-brazi-1834008684

The Strange and Familiar Nominees for the 2019 Hugo Awards

The B&N Sci-Fi and Fantasy Blog

The nominees for the 2019 Hugo Awards were announced this morning via streaming webcast straight from Dublin, Ireland, home of the 77th annual World Science Fiction Convention, and the lucky honorees represent the daring, strange—and familiar—flavors of sci-fi and fantasy that defined last year.

All six authors vying for Best Novel this year are prior Hugo nominees, and three of them—Mary Robinette Kowal (The Calculating Stars), Rebecca Roanhorse (Trail of Lightning), and Catherynne Valente (Space Opera)—even won, though none of those trophies was for a novel. The three others facing off in the category—Naomi Novik (Spinning Silver), Becky Chambers (Record of a Spaceborn Few), and Yoon Ha Lee (Revenant Gun)—are celebrating nominations for consecutive novels, though not all were published in consecutive years. (Also worth noting: Roanhorse, Novik, and Kowal’s novels are contenders at this year’s Nebulas.)

There are fresher faces elsewhere on the ballot, including P. Djèlí Clark, nominated two times this year, for Best Novella for The Black God’s Drums and Best Short Story for “The Secret Lives of the Nine Negro Teeth of George Washington.” Alix E. Harrow also celebrates her first nomination for her short story “A Witch’s Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies,” while the Best Novelette category features first-timers Simone Heller and Zen Cho—who, we’re pleased to say, picked up her nomination for “If at First You Don’t Succeed, Try, Try Again,” a lovely story of love, perseverance, and dragons that was published right here on The B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog.

As ever, an established career and a dedicated fan following have their perks: in its third year, the Best Series Hugo sees its first repeat nominee, for Seanan McGuire’s October Daye urban fantasy series, while Aliette de Bodard, Yoon Ha Lee, and Becky Chambers are nominated for series whose recent individual works are also recognized in other categories this year.

With additional nominations for familiar names like Jo Walton and Ursula K. Le Guin (who earned her second posthumous nomination), what is perhaps most notable about this year’s slate—aside from the uniform excellence of the works recognized—is the how very traditionally Hugo they are. After a number of years during which the most storied honor in genre became mired in political gamesmanship, controversy, and no small amount of anger, this year’s ballot seems to do nothing more than speak to the year in SFF that was 2018, as it was seen by the WorldCon fandom.

And that’s the way it should be.

The Hugo Award winners will be announced in August at Dublin 2019. The complete list of nominees follows.

Best Novel

The Calculating Stars, by Mary Robinette Kowal (Tor)
The first of a pair of prequel novels to Kowal’s award-winning novelette The Lady Astronaut of MarsThe Calculating Stars (also a Nebula nominee) delves into the alternate history that resulted in humanity establishing a colony on Mars in the middle of the 20th century. In the spring of 1952, a huge meteor hits Chesapeake Bay, taking out most of the Eastern United States. Mathematician and former military pilot Elma York and her scientist husband Nate are there to witness the destruction, and Elma knows immediately that this is an ELE—an extinction-level event—and that humanity must look to the stars if it has any hope of survival. Although her experience as a pilot and her math skills earn Elma a place in the International Aerospace Coalition as a calculator, she begins to wonder why women can’t be astronauts as well—and she’s more than willing to confront racism, sexism, and more personal enemies on her quest to become the first lady astronaut. This is one of those books that seems to have come along at just the right moment, bringing together fascinating, inspiring characters; compelling, plausible worldbuilding; and a message that resonates—especially today. Read our review.

Record of a Spaceborn Few, by Becky Chambers (Harper Voyager)
This standalone followup to A Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet and A Closed and Common Orbit explores what happens to those passengers on the generation ships humanity used to escape Earth who don’t know how to leave their vessels behind. The Exodans are the largest concentration of humanity anywhere in the universe; they are the descendants of those who left a poisoned Earth two centuries before on a flotilla of hope. The novel explores what happens to them after the ship reaches its destination: both to those who venture forth into new lives, and those who stay behind. Chambers’ books are celebrated for their warmth and diverse characters, but her worldbuilding is also stellar; it’s a delight to spend more time in this universe. Read our interview with the author.

Revenant Gun, by Yoon Ha Lee (Solaris)
Lee brings the Hugo and Nebula award-nominated Machineries of Empire trilogy to its conclusion in mathematical style with a brainy, fast-paced final entry. Shuos Jedao wakes up in the body of a much older man rather than the 17-year old one his memories led him to expect. He’s shocked to discover he’s now a general, commanded by Hexarch Nirai Kujen—a tyrant hiding behind an easy smile—to conquer the haxarchate using an army compelled to obey his every command. Worse—he quickly discovers that the soldiers despise him for a massacre he doesn’t remember committing. Worst—someone is hunting him, seeking to bring him to justice for his crimes. The first two books in the series stretched imaginations and taxed brains, and this one is no different—and no less worth the effort it takes to puzzle it out. Read our review.

Space Opera, by Catherynne M. Valente (Saga Press)
Valente spins a truly nutty disco ball of a sci-fi story that begins with the Sentience Wars that nearly eradicate all intelligent life in the universe; when they end, the scattered survivors regroup and begin a new tradition designed to avoid future apocalypses: the Metagalactic Grand Prix, a universe-wide competition of song and dance open only to recognized sentient species. When any new species emerges onto the universal stage to declare itself sentient—like, say, humanity—they must send contestants to the Grand Prix to prove their worth and quite literally sing for their lives (though alien singing doesn’t always sound like a Top 40 hit). Place anything but last and the upstart civilization is a part of the club. If they come in last, they’re quietly exterminated, in the name of preserving universal peace. (Tough choices, people…and not people.) When Earth is unexpectedly pulled into the next contest, the task of saving humanity falls to a has-been rock star named Decibel Jones, who must grapple with the demons of his past while venturing reluctantly onto the largest stage of all-time. It’s a a second chance to be a glitter-bombed rock star. or die trying—along with everyone else. Inspired by her dual love for Eurovision and Douglas Adams, this one is pure Catherynne Valente, from the first page to the last. Read our review.

Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik (Del Rey)
Drawing on Eastern European folklore and the classic fairy tale of Rumplestiltskin, Novik tells the story of Miryem, daughter in a family of Jewish moneylenders led by her incompetent father. With their fortunes on the wane due to his poor business sense, Miryem must step in and turn the family business around. Inspired by a mixture of desperation and genius, she responds by spinning debts into gold—gold that attracts the attention of the Staryk, emotionless fairies who bring winter with them. The Staryk give Miryem Fairy Silver and demand she transform it, too. Miryem does so by turning the beautiful metal into jewelry that attracts the attention of the rich and powerful—but her success brings her more Staryk attention, and thus more problems. Novik’s first standalone novel to come along in the wake of the Nebula Award-winning Uprooted had a tough act to follow, but Spinning Silver—expanded from a short story included in anthology The Starlit Wood—is every bit as enchanting. Read our review.

Trail of Lightning, by Rebecca Roanhorse (Saga Press)
Roanhorse’s buzzy debut is set in a post-apocalyptic world comparable to Mad Max: Fury Road in intensity, with worldbuilding drawn from the author’s Indigenous American heritage. In an America devastated by rising sea levels, the Navajo Nation has been reborn as Dinétah—and with it have come the old gods and monsters of Native American legend. Maggie Hoskie is a monster-hunter, gifted with the power to fight and defeat these beasts. Hired by a small town to locate a missing girl, she teams up with a misfit medicine man named Kai Arviso, and the two dive into a mystery that takes them deeper into the dark side of Dinétah than they could have imagined—a world of tricksters, dark magic, and creatures more frightening than any story. Trail of Lightning is an audacious take on the conventions of both urban fantasy and the post-apocalyptic novel, binding them together in a way that could only and ever happen in Dinétah. Read our review.

Best Novella

Artificial Condition, by Martha Wells (Tor.com Publishing)

Beneath the Sugar Sky, by Seanan McGuire (Tor.com Publishing)

Binti: The Night Masquerade, by Nnedi Okorafor (Tor.com Publishing)

The Black God’s Drums, by P. Djèlí Clark (Tor.com Publishing)

Gods, Monsters, and the Lucky Peach, by Kelly Robson (Tor.com Publishing)

The Tea Master and the Detective, by Aliette de Bodard (Subterranean Press / JABberwocky Literary Agency)

Best Novelette

If at First You Don’t Succeed, Try, Try Again,” by Zen Cho (B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog)

“The Last Banquet of Temporal Confections,” by Tina Connolly (Tor.com)

“Nine Last Days on Planet Earth,” by Daryl Gregory (Tor.com)

The Only Harmless Great Thing, by Brooke Bolander (Tor.com Publishing)

“The Thing About Ghost Stories,” by Naomi Kritzer (Uncanny Magazine #25)

“When We Were Starless,” by Simone Heller (Clarkesworld #145, October 2018)

Best Short Story

“The Court Magician,” by Sarah Pinsker (Lightspeed, January 2018)

“The Rose MacGregor Drinking and Admiration Society,” by T. Kingfisher (Uncanny Magazine #25)

“The Secret Lives of the Nine Negro Teeth of George Washington,” by P. Djèlí Clark (Fireside Magazine, February 2018)

“STET,” by Sarah Gailey (Fireside Magazine, October 2018)

“The Tale of the Three Beautiful Raptor Sisters, and the Prince Who Was Made of Meat,” by Brooke Bolander (Uncanny Magazine #23)

“A Witch’s Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies,” by Alix E. Harrow (Apex Magazine, February 2018)

Best Series

The Centenal Cycle, by Malka Older (Tor.com Publishing)

The Laundry Files, by Charles Stross (Tor.com Publishing)

Machineries of Empire, by Yoon Ha Lee (Solaris)

The October Daye Series, by Seanan McGuire (DAW)

The Universe of Xuya, by Aliette de Bodard (Subterranean Press)

Wayfarers, by Becky Chambers (Harper Voyager)

Best Related Work

Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Astounding: John W. Campbell, Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein, L. Ron Hubbard, and the Golden Age of Science Fiction, by Alec Nevala-Lee (Dey Street Books)

The Hobbit Duology, written and edited by Lindsay Ellis and Angelina Meehan (YouTube)

An Informal History of the Hugos: A Personal Look Back at the Hugo Awards, 1953-2000, by Jo Walton (Tor)

The Mexicanx Initiative Experience at Worldcon 76 (Julia Rios, Libia Brenda, Pablo Defendini, John Picacio)

Ursula K. Le Guin: Conversations on Writing, by Ursula K. Le Guin with David Naimon (Tin House Books)

Best Graphic Story

Abbott, written by Saladin Ahmed, art by Sami Kivelä, colours by Jason Wordie, letters by Jim Campbell (BOOM! Studios)

Black Panther: Long Live the King, written by Nnedi Okorafor and Aaron Covington, art by André Lima Araújo, Mario Del Pennino and Tana Ford (Marvel)

Monstress, Vol. 3: Haven, written by Marjorie Liu, art by Sana Takeda (Image Comics)

On a Sunbeam, by Tillie Walden (First Second)

Paper Girls, Vol. 4, written by Brian K. Vaughan, art by Cliff Chiang, colors by Matt Wilson, letters by Jared K. Fletcher (Image Comics)

Saga, Vol. 9, written by Brian K. Vaughan, art by Fiona Staples (Image Comics)

Best Dramatic Presentation, Long Form

Annihilation, directed and written for the screen by Alex Garland, based on the novel by Jeff VanderMeer (Paramount)

Avengers: Infinity War, screenplay by Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, directed by Anthony Russo and Joe Russo (Marvel Studios)

Black Panther, written by Ryan Coogler and Joe Robert Cole, directed by Ryan Coogler (Marvel Studios)

A Quiet Place, screenplay by Scott Beck, John Krasinski and Bryan Woods, directed by John Krasinski (Platinum Dunes/Sunday Night)

Sorry to Bother You, written and directed by Boots Riley (Annapurna Pictures)

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, screenplay by Phil Lord and Rodney Rothman, directed by Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey and Rodney Rothman (Sony)

Best Dramatic Presentation, Short Form

The Expanse: “Abaddon’s Gate,” written by Daniel Abraham, Ty Franck and Naren Shankar, directed by Simon Cellan Jones

Doctor Who: “Demons of the Punjab,” written by Vinay Patel, directed by Jamie Childs

Dirty Computer, written by Janelle Monáe, directed by Andrew Donoho and Chuck Lightning

The Good Place: “Janet(s),” written by Josh Siegal & Dylan Morgan, directed by Morgan Sackett

The Good Place: “Jeremy Bearimy,” written by Megan Amram, directed by Trent O’Donnell

Doctor Who: “Rosa,” written by Malorie Blackman and Chris Chibnall, directed by Mark Tonderai

Best Professional Editor, Short Form

Neil Clarke

Gardner Dozois

Lee Harris

Julia Rios

Lynne M. Thomas and Michael Damian Thomas

Catherine Tobler 

Best Professional Editor, Long Form

Sheila E. Gilbert

Anne Lesley Groell

Beth Meacham

Diana Pho

Gillian Redfearn

Navah Wolfe

Best Professional Artist

Galen Dara

Jaime Jones

Victo Ngai

John Picacio

Yuko Shimizu

Charles Vess

Best Semiprozine

Beneath Ceaseless Skies, editor-in-chief and publisher Scott H. Andrews

Fireside Magazine, edited by Julia Rios, managing editor Elsa Sjunneson-Henry, social coordinator Meg Frank, special features editor Tanya DePass, founding editor Brian White, publisher and art director Pablo Defendini

FIYAH Magazine of Black Speculative Fiction, executive editors Troy L. Wiggins and DaVaun Sanders, editors L.D. Lewis, Brandon O’Brien, Kaleb Russell, Danny Lore, and Brent Lambert

Shimmer, publisher Beth Wodzinski, senior editor E. Catherine Tobler

Strange Horizons, edited by Jane Crowley, Kate Dollarhyde, Vanessa Rose Phin, Vajra Chandrasekera, Romie Stott, Maureen Kincaid Speller, and the Strange Horizons Staff

Uncanny Magazine, publishers/editors-in-chief Lynne M. Thomas and Michael Damian Thomas, managing editor Michi Trota, podcast producers Erika Ensign and Steven Schapansky, Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction Special Issue editors-in-chief Elsa Sjunneson-Henry and Dominik Parisien

Best Fanzine

Galactic Journey, founder Gideon Marcus, editor Janice Marcus

Journey Planet, edited by Team Journey Planet

Lady Business, editors Ira, Jodie, KJ, Renay, & Susan

nerds of a feather, flock together, editors Joe Sherry, Vance Kotrla and The G

Quick Sip Reviews, editor Charles Payseur

Rocket Stack Rank, editors Greg Hullender and Eric Wong

Best Fancast

Be the Serpent, presented by Alexandra Rowland, Freya Marske and Jennifer Mace

The Coode Street Podcast, presented by Jonathan Strahan and Gary K. Wolfe

Fangirl Happy Hour, hosted by Ana Grilo and Renay Williams

Galactic Suburbia, hosted by Alisa Krasnostein, Alexandra Pierce, and Tansy Rayner Roberts, produced by Andrew Finch

Our Opinions Are Correct, hosted by Annalee Newitz and Charlie Jane Anders

The Skiffy and Fanty Show, produced by Jen Zink and Shaun Duke, hosted by the Skiffy and Fanty Crew 

Best Fan Writer

Foz Meadows

James Davis Nicoll

Charles Payseur

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry

Alasdair Stuart

Bogi Takács

Best Fan Artist

Sara Felix

Grace P. Fong

Meg Frank

Ariela Housman

Likhain (Mia Sereno)

Spring Schoenhuth

Best Art Book

The Books of Earthsea: The Complete Illustrated Edition, illustrated by Charles Vess, written by Ursula K. Le Guin (Saga Press)

Daydreamer’s Journey: The Art of Julie Dillon, by Julie Dillon (self-published)

Dungeons & Dragons Art & Arcana: A Visual History, by Michael Witwer, Kyle Newman, Jon Peterson, Sam Witwer (Ten Speed Press)

Spectrum 25: The Best in Contemporary Fantastic Art, edited by John Fleskes (Flesk Publications)

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse—The Art of the Movie, by Ramin Zahed (Titan Books)

Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth, edited by Catherine McIlwaine (Bodleian Library)

John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer

Katherine Arden (2nd year of eligibility)

S.A. Chakraborty (2nd year of eligibility)

R.F. Kuang (1st year of eligibility)

Jeannette Ng (2nd year of eligibility)

Vina Jie-Min Prasad (2nd year of eligibility)

Rivers Solomon (2nd year of eligibility)

Lodestar Award for Best Young Adult Book

The Belles, by Dhonielle Clayton (Freeform)

Children of Blood and Bone, by Tomi Adeyemi (Henry Holt)

The Cruel Prince, by Holly Black (Little, Brown)

Dread Nation, by Justina Ireland (Balzer + Bray)

The Invasion, by Peadar O’Guilin (Scholastic)

Tess of the Road, by Rachel Hartman (Random House)

Who are you pulling for at this year’s Hugo Awards? Let us know in the comments.

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