Review of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Season 1, 6 episodes)

This is a Disney+ show based on Marvel Comics characters Sam Wilson/the Falcon and Bucky Barnes/the Winter Soldier. It takes place after the events of the film Avengers: Endgame (2019), and was created by Malcolm Spellman. Spellman also served as the head writer, and Karl Skogland directed. The show stars Anthony Mackie as Falcon and Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes, along with Wyatt Russell, Erin Kellyman, Danny Ramirz, Georges St. Pierre, Adepero Oduye, Don Cheadle, Daniel Bruhl, Emily VanCamp, Florence Kasumba and Julia Louis-Dreyfus. This review contains spoilers.

Steve Rogers/Captain America has retired and left his shield to Sam Wilson as his designated heir. However, Wilson feels there can be only one Captain America, so he gives the shield to the US government and goes off to attend to family business, trying to help his sister out of financial trouble. Barnes has been rescued from Hydra by Cap, and is now attending court-ordered therapy sessions with a psychiatrist who insists he needs to make amends to the people he has hurt in order to get his life back on track. The government uses Steve’s shield to create a new Captain America with the war hero John Walker, and a new terrorist group called Flag Smashers starts up activities in Germany. Walker and his wingman Lemar Hoskins and Wilson and Barnes go as separate teams to investigate. Wilson and Barnes try to stop the group from stealing medical supplies and find they are all super soldiers like Barnes. Someone has recreated the serum that gave him trans-human powers. Wilson and Barnes refuse to work with Walker and draft arch-criminal Zemo and Sharon Carter/the Power Broker instead to help with their operation. Walker acquires a vial of serum and becomes a super soldier. In a fit of anger after Lemar is killed, he beats one of the terrorists to death on a public street and is recalled by the US government. In the aftermath, Wilson starts to rethink his position on rejecting the shield. Wilson and Barnes are successful at taking down the terrorists, but the Power Broker has now infiltrated the US government and begun operations from within.

On the positive side, this is well written and produced. The characters are strongly developed at this point, and operate well as a cast. Wilson and Barnes are introduced in the first episode, Wilson in an operation for the military, and Barnes in a visit with his psychiatrist. This is entertaining and sets the tone and dimension for the character for the entire series. He tells her with a totally straight face that he is making amends while we see in an aside what he’s really been doing. Ah-hem. Walker is clearly not up to the Captain America gig, and Wilson makes a great comment about it that power just makes you more of what you are. There’s lots of great action, stunt work and special effects in the show. The Power Broker is also a strong character and responsible for the cliff-hanger. The government has committed a serious error here, and I’m sure we’ll find out more about it next season.

On the less positive side, the politics between the terrorists and the government here aren’t clearly outlined, and on the first pass it was a little confusing about who was who and what they’re doing. Karli Morgenthau, the leader of the Flag Smashers cell, isn’t quite convincing as a character. She looks very young, pulls a sad, uncertain face and orders her minions to commit atrocities they seem to dislike but still carry out. More on this in a moment. The series is trying to be woke, but ends up with a confusing mashup of ideas that needs to be unpacked.

The first issue is race, racism and power. Cap is a patriotic symbol. He has left his shield to Wilson, who is a black man, and Wilson feels unworthy to step into his shoes. We first think this is a personal problem, but when challenged, Wilson admits it’s because Captain America should have blue eyes and blond hair, like Walker, for example. However, Wilson finally steps up once it’s clear Walker can’t deal with the demands of the job. So, is this suggesting that black Americans are unwilling to take responsibility because they’re not white? The series also presents various cases of racism, when Wilson and his sister are denied a loan regardless of his position as an Avenger, and it turns out the super-soldier serum was first tested on blacks. Presumably this didn’t work as well for the survivor, as he seems to have aged when Bucky and Cap haven’t.

The next issue is the terrorist manifesto. The last year has exposed a lot of people to the nuts and bolts of the “revolution” and how it might develop. The Flag Smashers are an anti-nationalist group that somewhat resemble Antifa. Their slogan is “One world, one people,” and their somewhat nebulous operations seem to be about taking from the “haves” to provide supplies and medicine to “have not” refugees and attacking government bodies that are displacing populations. The series attempts to present them positively, regardless of their evil methods, and Wilson tries several times to talk Morgenthau down, telling her he agrees with her in principle but not with her methods. Her minions are also presented sympathetically, with worried faces when they’re asked to bomb occupied buildings and such like. So what does this say? How does it align with Captain America as a symbol of patriotism? Is the show criticizing Antifa? Aligning with globalists? Or are they just hedging their bets with a confused message? It’s kind of an eye-roller.

Four and a half stars.

Review of “Monster” by Naomi Kritzer

This science fiction novelette is a finalist for the 2021 Hugo Award. It was published by Clarkesworld in January 2020. Kritzer is well established as a novelist and short story writer and her short story “Cat Pictures Please” won a Locus and a Hugo Award. This review contains spoilers.

Cecily is on winter break from her job as a faculty member and gene editing researcher. She’s also in the Chinese town of Guiyang looking for her childhood best-friend Andrew, who has been doing illegal research on a serum that will give people superpowers. His research has killed a number of people that he has suckered into being test subjects, and now the FBI and the CIA are hoping Cecily will find and betray him because they want the formula for his serum. Cecily meets an annoying Englishman named Tom at her hotel, who dies suspiciously in a way that looks like he’s found Andrew and ingested his serum. She’s getting close. What will she do when she finds Andrew?

The narrative for this story switches back and forth between Cecily’s memories of her high school friend and her experience in China looking for him. The theme is monsters, of course. Andrew is one example, an unethical researcher who uses people for his own ends. There are others, mostly boys, who persecute Cecily because she’s bookish and nerdy as a child. The subtheme is how different children are ostracized and either choose an ethical or unethical path in response to persecution. The plot emerges gradually, and the ending comes off as something of a surprising twist. Cecily’s struggles with the Chinese language and Tom’s explanation of why her translation app isn’t working are an extra bonus in the story.

On the less positive side, I think there is a bit too much emphasis on boys harassing Cecily as a child. Mean girls are often worse for girls that don’t conform, which makes this feel like something of an attack on the male sex. There’s a certain amount of exploration of Andrew’s character from the flashbacks, but I’d have liked to have had more of this. It’s not completely clear why he’s chosen this path. Is the genetic research a clue? Maybe it’s genetic? I know this was written some time ago, but Andrew is of Chinese ancestry. Given the current attacks on Asians in the US, this seems like a questionable suggestion.

Five stars.

Review of “Stepsister” by Leah Cypess

This fantasy novelette is a finalist for the 2020 Nebula Awards. It was published by F&SF in the 5-6/20 issue. Leah Cypress is a biologist and a lawyer, and apparently a successful young adult story-writer and novelist. This review contains spoilers.

Garrin is the bastard half-brother of King Ciar, and likes to think he is the king’s most ardent supporter, his confidant and friend. This effort is made stronger by the old queen’s cruelty and surety that Garrin would eventually betray Ciar and, as the old king’s son, challenge him for the throne. Ciar was married five years ago to Queen Ella, but all is not well in the marriage. Queen Ella is marked by her virtual slavery to her stepmother and stepsisters in her girlhood, and uncertain in the royal position she obtained through faery magic. She has also failed to conceive, so she her relationship with the king is growing strained. Ciar summons Garrin to his private quarters and asks him to go to the hidden cottage where Garrin took Ella’s half-sister Jacinda five years ago (in lieu of execution) and bring her to the court. Before he can leave, the queen sends her maid Amalie to summon him. The queen thinks Ciar means to put her aside and marry Jacinda instead. Clearly there’s an intrigue afoot, and Garrin is torn. He danced with Jacinda at the ball those five years ago in the garden when she fled the faery magic, and they established something of a bond. After an argument between the king and queen, they decide to go together to speak with Jacinda. Garrin guides them there, and they find Jacinda dead and her five-year-old son alone with her corpse. What will they do?

This is a compelling story, with the intrigue strongly plotted and the characters from the Cinderella story filled out with depth so they’re no longer the cardboard, black and white, good and evil of the fairy tale. Everyone has hidden desires, angers, uncertainties and ambitions that they’re working through, including Garrin and the queen’s captive faery maid Amelie. It’s only Jacinda we don’t hear from, except through Garrin’s memories of her. Garrin is a very attractive character, trying to do the right thing in a world where everyone expects him to hate and challenge the king, and walking a fine line between the king and his ambitious consort. The theme seems to be that short cuts (like faery magic) don’t always work out to the happily ever after scenario the fairy tale promises, and that you always have to deal with the consequences in real life. The world is only sketched out, but between the fairy tale and glimpses within the story, we get the picture. Jacinda may have been a lot smarter than Queen Ella as far as the faery magic goes.

On the less positive side, this is way too short. Clearly it should be the intro to a novel, as there are spaces in the narrative, and then it jumps forward several years into the future at the end. Those spaces really needs to be filled in. My feeling was that the slightly humorous ending for the novelette weakened the power of the story as a whole.

Four and a half stars.

Review of “Paper Horn” by Mary E. Lowd

This is another flash fiction piece from Daily Science Fiction, which posts short fiction online and also sends it out by email for busy people through a subscription service. Mary E. Lowd writes both short stories and novels and seems to have a cat. The story is a flash piece, coming in at 384 words, and combines both SF and fantasy tropes. This review contains spoilers.  

Wierdo loves Tulip, and fashions a paper horn out of her algebra homework for the pony. Tulip is a Smart Pony that can talk and has beautiful Appaloosa markings, but Mallory hates her because she wanted a hover-bike instead. Weirdo doesn’t make friends well, so she spends her lunch hour in the field talking with the pony. This way at least they each have a friend.

This story is written in first person from Weirdo’s point of view, and it has a visceral, emotional impact. Lowd builds the structure in just a few words, with rich mean-girl Mallory saying ugly, bullying things to both the pony and the girl. The pony responds to the rejection with sadness, which we can also attribute to Weirdo, and the girl responds by loving her like she’s a real unicorn. The failed paper horn is a nice bit of symbolism, and the algebra homework establishes the high school setting.

On the less positive side, there are a few details here that don’t quite make sense. First, ponies are not allowed to wander around by themselves. Why is this one in the field outside the school and not boarded at a stable somewhere? Next, why is Mallory even bothering to talk to her non-friend? Shouldn’t she be in the school cafeteria with the “right” people? And last, why present this as future SF? It would have felt better to me as magical realism, for example, where the pony’s mystical self really is a unicorn.

Four stars for the deft technique and emotional impact.

When does bullying become totalitarianism?

I’ve been complaining for a while about the kind of author bullying that comes from cancel culture. By now, everybody should know how this goes: An author, often a young person-of-color who isn’t well established, offers a novel, and a mob on Twitter piles on with charges of racism, insensitivity and cultural appropriation. The mob keeps screaming until the author or publisher pulls the book. It may be quietly released later on, but the campaign has damaged the marketing buzz and reduces the sales and acclaim for the book. This activity recently spread to publishing when a mob incited by romance author Courtney Milan attacked a small publisher and a free-lance editor. The tactic generally works better on fairly powerless nobodies, as well-established authors can just ignore the whole thing. The question has been hanging there about whether this is just a “mean girls” sort of action where little jealousies lead to pulling people down, or whether it’s actually about something bigger.

A couple or three things have hit the news recently that are making me think this is something bigger, in fact, a symptom of larger and more dangerous social trends. The first of these is a revolutionary strain of anarcho-communist ideology running through the summer “protests against systemic racism.” In case anyone is still in the dark about this movement, it is a type of utopian communism that calls for the abolition of the state, capitalism, wage labor and private property. Supposed to “free” people from laws and government control, its goal is actually totalitarianism, where the prescribed beliefs become entrenched and are enforced by members of society as a requirement. Because of its proscriptions against capitalism, wage labor and private property, this movement means to destroy the usual avenues of success in Western societies like education, opportunity and rewards for individual hard work. That means if you’re a young person who has written a promising book, you need to be bullied into withdrawing it to keep you a nobody, and if you have a budding editing or publishing business, you need to lose it if you don’t toe the line on ideology. In case anyone is wondering what totalitarianism is about, it’s a dictatorial society that requires complete subservience to a list of stated beliefs.

So, what other evidence on totalitarianism do I have this week? I’ve just run across a proposal from academic Dr. Ibram X. Kendi, most recently noted for the 2019 book How to Be an Antiracist, where his main thesis is that antiracists should “dismantle” racist systems. Since publishing the book, Kendi has proposed a Constitutional amendment in the US to establish and fund the Department of Anti-racism (DOA). This department would be responsible for “preclearing all local, state and federal public policies to ensure they won’t yield racial inequity, monitor those policies, investigate and be empowered with disciplinary tools to wield over and against policymakers and public officials who do not voluntarily change their racist policy and ideas.” This is a huge amount of power. It sounds like embedding cancel culture as an official government function. And the big question is, what is going to constitute “racism?”

And my last bit of troubling evidence: I’ve been noting for a while the results of SFF awards that seem to trend toward particular favored groups and strongly discriminate against others. This seems to be an unwritten rule about what’s acceptable to win, however the results are managed. You’d think from the huge outcry about racism in recent years that this would promote persons-of-color, but it doesn’t look to be doing that. Instead, it has shown to benefit mostly white women. Now the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (a.k.a. the Oscars) has actually published their award requirements, setting quotas for minority inclusion and limits on theme, storyline and narrative for writers:

A3. Main storyline/subject matter
The main storyline(s), theme or narrative of the film is centered on an underrepresented group(s).
• Women
• Racial or ethnic group
• LGBTQ+
• People with cognitive or physical disabilities, or who are deaf or hard of hearing

At first glance this might not seem to be that much of a problem. More minorities are employed, yah! But the damage to intellectual freedom is something else. This is a movement toward dictating what’s acceptable for people to write about and what’s acceptable for official recognition. During the Cold War, we used roll our eyes at the USSR and Maoist ideology-controlled books and films. Do we really want to go there?

More on Wealth and Power

Most people who gain wealth and power have followed some kind of career path that gives them the skills to be successful in holding onto it. However, there’s an alternate path to wealth and power that involves behaviors we generally consider morally corrupt. It’s a scenario where the end always justifies the means, and favors are more important than qualifications and skill.

Looking again at the currently popular theme of killing people and taking over their wealth and power, it can be tricky to transfer these without documents, so what the authors are having the protagonists do is resort to fraud to carry it off. There’s a long tradition in fiction of romantic thieves who make their living through trickery and clever heists, but somehow this feels different. It’s as if the authors are advising readers to cut corners to get what they want. This signals a shift in moral standards.

Examples: In The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow, the protagonist January kills her benefactor William Cornelius Locke and forges documents to take over his estate so she can live in comfort and have what she wants. In Network Effect by Martha Wells, ART’s crew is forging documents to dispute ownership of worlds and displace the corporate owners. Both these instances are presented as matter-of-fact and justified because of systemic bias, therefore the right thing to do. So, is moral corruption now the approved method to achieve our various causes?

Of course, corruption has always been there in human interactions. Moral corruption is the whole basis of organized crime, which uses violence, assault, murder, extortion, and fraud to build wealth and power. These tactics also have a bad tendency to creep into politics, where the stakes for wealth and power are similarly high. The US has laws against corruption, but various investigations and charges signal that it is fairly common and ongoing in politics. Somehow it is just there, strongly associated with people who achieve positions where they see the opportunities to capture or launder money and make deals to benefit their own personal interests.

So, is this one of the opportunities that women (or minorities) have been missing in their quest for wealth and power? Is that why authors are now pointing it out as a morally justified activity? It’s true that women have a complex association with corruption. Historically they have often attached to corrupt and powerful men to share in their spoils. Research shows that (at least in democracies) more women in business and politics tends to be associated with lower levels of corruption. Plus, women see the opportunities differently. For example, women tend to evaluate the risk of corrupt behaviors more carefully than men, and may take a bribe and not follow through on the deal. This makes them less trustworthy for anyone who is offering corruption, and turns out to mean that men are approached with more and better deals. However, when there are no penalties, everybody seems equally corrupt.

On the one hand, we’ve got a human tendency to corruption, and on the other an unspoken assumption that our society has rules against corruption, and that this is the moral high ground. The question is which we’re going to choose, and where we’re going to draw the line. Another consideration is how we justify morally corrupt behaviors to ourselves and whether this is actually exculpatory. Is it okay for someone to (allegedly) lie about sexual assault for monetary or political gain as Tara Reade and Christine Blasey Ford have been accused of doing? Is it okay for somebody to manufacture a racial hate crime like Jussie Smollett or racial profiling like Rev. Jerrod Moultrie? Is it okay for Sherita Dixon-Cole to lie that Officer Daniel Hubbard sexually assaulted her during a traffic stop because of the need for police reform? These charges are consonant with political causes, so does that justify lying to manufacture incidents? Is this now the best way to get the power for the changes we want? Or not?

Charlie Jane Anders checked in with her opinion earlier this year. In City in the Middle of the Night, all the grand causes fail because corruption degrades the new order the same as the old. Would choosing a different path to wealth and power make a difference in the results?

Review of The Lost Sisters by Holly Black

This e-novella is a companion piece for the Folk of the Air trilogy, a look at The Cruel Prince’s story from Taryn’s viewpoint. The e-file also contains a one-chapter intro to The Wicked King. This was published by Little Brown in October of 2018, and runs 50 pages. This review contains spoilers.

This is basically a short recap of the first book, written in second person (you), and addressing Taryn’s twin sister Jude. It features Black’s lyrical style and flow, and investigates the cruel interpersonal relations that go on between the Folk of Faerie and the mortal Taryn and her sister. There is also some introductory commentary about traditional fairy tales and how they discriminate against women in the realms of power.

Clearly this was meant as a marketing tool for the next installment of the main series, but it may have also been meant to give life to Taryn’s character—the first person structure of the Folk of the Air trilogy means we always see others from Jude’s perspective, and the other characters remain a little flat. However, if this was the purpose, it didn’t work very well. This ends up sounding mostly like an apology from Taryn for bowing to circumstances and not being there for her sister when Jude tries to fight back. In this narrative, Taryn comes off like a whiny victim who never manages to take control of her own life, falls for a clearly duplicitous guy, makes a poor marriage, and then constantly apologizes for being what she is. Part of Black’s intent may be to set up Taryn as Jude’s foil just to illustrate the contrast between the fighter and the victim mentality. Neither of the two is particularly likable, and neither is completely successful in trying to deal with the system. However, the idea that the characters (twins) might be laying out two paths for the same person is interesting.

Besides this, I have to hand it to Black for taking on the issue of submission. A big chunk of media these days is pushing girls to take charge, but nobody is presenting the real-world challenges. We’re seeing some of it here. Jude fights her way to the top, but struggles because she hasn’t the skills to make alliances and wield power. Meanwhile, Taryn tries to blend and take a traditional role, but then turns out to be boring to a dismissive, two-faced husband.

Three and a half stars.

Review of The Queen of Nothing by Holly Black

The Queen of Nothing is the third novel in the Folk of the Air series, preceded by The Cruel Prince and The Wicked King to complete a three-novel set. The Queen of Nothing was published by Little Brown in November of 2019, and runs 320 pages. This review contains spoilers.

Jude had been banished by the High King to the mortal world for her murder of Prince Balekin. She is living with her sister Vivi, Vivi’s girlfriend Heather and her brother Oak in Heather’s apartment, and makes money to help with the rent by hiring out as an errand-girl for a local faery. She accepts a job and ends up fighting a duel with Grima Mog, Redcap general of the Court of Teeth, who then reveals a plot to dethrone the King of Elfhame. Soon after, Jude’s twin sister Taryn arrives. She reveals she has killed her husband Locke, and she wants Jude to stand in for her at the inquest so she can use her resistance to glamour in order to lie. Jude agrees, and disguised as Taryn, she re-enters Elfhame. The inquest seems to go well until Nicasea insists Taryn be searched for a charm, and King Carden offers to examine Taryn himself. Once they are alone, he reveals he knows who she is. Madoc attacks the palace, attempting to rescue Taryn, and captures Jude. She wakes in Madoc’s war camp, where she continues to pretend she is Taryn and learns about the plot to remove the High King. When Madoc’s forces arrive at the palace to capture the crown, Carden destroys it and then turns into a monstrous serpent that defiles anything it touches. Is there anything Jude can do to save the kingdom and claim her rights as Queen of Elfhame?

My first impulse that this is an allegory for high school turns out to be correct. Jude and Taryn are Average Kids trying to enter a clique of the Right People. Nicisea is the Mean Girl, Locke is the Gamer, and Carden is the abused child who grows up to be a monster that Jude tries to salvage. Jude continues to fight her way through everything, while her twin Taryn tries to blend. At the end, everybody ends up getting pizza together at the local shop. On top of this, author Black spins the surface story of Faerie and the scheming around succession to the throne. In general this works well, and the story manages to be entertaining on both levels. It continues the theme of fighting for power versus submission to the system, and Jude continues to fail in her struggle to deal with a powerful position. Black’s trademark style is fairly lyrical and this is strongly plotted, if a little abrupt sometimes and short on transitions.

On the less positive side, the surface story seems to be wearing a little thin toward the finale as the allegory starts pulling the strings. Jude constantly overestimates her abilities, takes on more than she can handle and then despairs—after a while, she ought to know better. Maybe the constant murders are an allegory for “cutting people dead,” but the high attrition rate continues to be worrisome. Also, it would be nice if Jude and Carden would just talk. A little bit of communication would go a long way in resolving the issues between them. Instead, Jude remains defensive and suspicious, refusing to recognize that it’s about anything but Jude. As far as I can tell, she never grows much as a person, always grandstanding solo rather than taking the reins of power and working within the structure that should be in place to defend the king and the kingdom. I’m wondering why so much space is used up by descriptions of women’s gowns, and also why everyone uses just swords and knives. Maybe there’s some magic in Faerie that prevents the use of firearms, but in the mortal world, why does Jude still show up for a fight with just a knife? There are other ways, dear.

This is a good story, regardless of the niggles. Highly recommended for young adult.

Four stars.

Review of The Cruel Prince by Holly Black

I reviewed The Wicked King, second in this Folk of the Air series, which won the Goodreads Choice Award for Best Young Adult Novel in 2019, but thought it would probably help if I’d read the first book in the series, too. The Queen of Nothing completes the three-novel set. This novel was published by Little Brown in 2018, and runs 385 pages. Apparently it was optioned for a film in 2017. This review contains spoilers.

Jude’s mother was a mortal married to Madoc, a general of the High King of Faerie. She had one daughter Vivienne with him, and then ran away with a human artisan to the human world, where they had two more daughters. Madoc followed them, killed Jude’s mortal parents and spirited the girls away to raise with his new wife and son Oak. At seventeen, Jude wants desperately to fit in, but she is tortured by the young fay of her social circle, especially the cruel Prince Cardan, youngest son of the High King. Although her twin sister Taryn yields to the abuse and finds a place, Jude remains defiant, determined to win some kind of power to make her tormentors sorry. She schemes and intrigues, allying with Prince Dain, who is expected to succeed the High King, but then the coronation goes wrong, leaving the kingdom on the verge of civil war. Can she come up with a plan to save her family and make peace in the kingdom?

This is a pretty awesome intrigue, strongly suggesting the author had a tough time in high school. The story starts off with a bullying episode and gets successively more gripping as it goes along. Nothing and no one is what they seem, and all the characters are gray, rather than black and white. The Faerie are all cruel and hungry, but they love each other, too, and they fear loss. The characters take on dimension slowly as the tale progresses, as Jude fights her way through the love, hate and ambition, trying at first to achieve something for herself, and then once things go wrong, to save the people she loves. The Faerie kingdom and its rules are well-laid out, and now and then Jude slips back into the mortal world with her fay sister Vivi to shop at Target.

It’s hard to find anything really wrong with this. Considering the setting, I did start to suspect the characters were two-sided early on, so it wasn’t really a surprise when they showed a different face. One questionable issue here is what Jude is turning into—maybe becoming just as cruel, evil and calculating as the fay? She’s been cursed, so we’ll have to see how it turns out.

Five stars.

I’m going on to review the Queen of Nothing. If you’d like to read my review of The Wicked King, here’s a link to it.

Wrap Up of the 2019 Goodreads Choice Award Reviews

For anyone who doesn’t know, Amazon bought Goodreads in 2013, in a move to integrate the review and discussion site for direct promotion of its literary offerings. Goodreads analyzes the data from what they say includes hundreds of millions of books rated, reviewed, and added to their Want to Read Shelves in a given year to determine which books make the cut for the Opening Round. This is followed by Semifinal Round and a Final Round where site users are invited to vote for the winners. In 2019 there were 300 initial nominees with an average rating of 4 stars. Because the site is so powerful, it’s clearly important for authors to pay attention to how their books are received and reviewed there. That makes this pretty much a popularity award, though I expect it will be affected by factors like levels of promotion and influencers within the various Goodreads groups.

So, this went better than I expected. I don’t always like bestseller novels because I do like solid world building, strong characters and literary elements like theme and meaning. Although Crouch’s book was a little weak, I did like the novels the women authors wrote. One of the big advantages in reading for this award was that there seemed to be a minimum of political messages in the books. There were messages and themes, of course, but in general they were more social commentary than political screeds. These included the dangers of technology (Crouch) and the effects of power, abuse and bullying (Black). Bardugo’s book is a little harder to summarize, but also seems to be about abusing others for the purposes of achieving power.

These books seem to have won the awards pretty much on their entertainment value and for how they speak to the reader, rather than for their “diversity” or other characteristics. All three winners involve mainly white characters, except for Bardugo’s black Centurion, and all the authors are also white. Bardugo appears to be Jewish, and Crouch writes about gay characters fairly often, but hasn’t come out as gay that I can find with a quick search. Of the three, only Black seems to have been recognized by the SFF community; she won the Andre Norton Award in 2005 for Valiant: A Modern Tale of Faery.

Since this went well, I’ll do it again next year. Stay tuned for the 2019 Nebula reviews.