Review of “The Last Novelist (or A Dead Lizard in the Yard)” by Matthew Kressel

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This short story is a finalist for the 2018 Nebula Award. It was published by

Reuth Bryan Diaso is an elderly novelist who is suffering from a fatal illness. He arrives on Ardabaab, where he hopes to finish his last novel before he dies. There he is discovered by Fish, a girl-child who becomes totally fascinated by what he is doing. He takes her on as an apprentice, showing her how he writes with a pen and paper, how to draw, and how he sets the type and prints his novels on a fabricated press. She is talented as an artist and begins a set of drawings to illustrate his novel. However, her mother finds out about the relationship and calls out Diaso as a predator. He is heartbroken, and his work on the novel falters. Will he ever see the child again? Will he finish the book before he dies?

Good points: This is artfully constructed. The narrative and characters are absorbing and the imagery is enjoyable. From the dead lizard at the beginning to the final resolution, we’re caught by Diaso’s story, where he putters with a story (mirroring his own?) and enjoys passing along a dying craft to one final young fan. There’s a nice tension in the plot when her mother intervenes, and a satisfying resolution. This is also metafiction, of course, about writing a novel. (I can see this could make it very popular with a group of writers.) We get excerpts of the novel sandwiched within the narrative. We also get nostalgia about the old days when real writers used a pen and paper and real printers set type, got ink on their fingers and produced high-quality hardbound novels. We get magical world-building and bits of Yiddish dialect. The elephant in the room he’s addressed is how men can’t be friends with children anymore. The dead lizard is a really nice touch.

Not so good points: The world building used some bad science and produced some pretty fantastical effects. I really enjoyed the exotica, but it was a little jarring—breaking me out of the story for brief moments. I also thought this was a bit too overtly sentimental and a bit too meta for a general audience. I can’t complain too much, though, as it looks like Kressel is a publisher and editor as well as a writer. He may well be feeling what he wrote.

Four stars.


Review of “Carnival Nine” by Caroline M. Yoachim


This short story is a finalist for the 2018 Nebula Award. It was published in Beneath Ceaseless Skies.

Zee has a silver key in her back that the maker uses to wind her up every day. She has a strong mainspring and so a lot of energy. She lives in Closet City with her Papa, who never has any turns left over for adventure because he works so hard to help Granny and Gramps. When the carnival comes to town, Zee meets a carny boy named Vale. On her 200th day, she gets adult limbs and new paint on her face, and soon afterward Granny and Gramps wind down for the last time and are recycled. Since her Papa has only himself to take care of now, she leaves with Vale on carnival train 9 to make a life for herself as a carny. The two of them build a child they name Mattan, but the boy has a weak mainspring. Vale refuses to accept the child’s disability, so Zee takes Mattan back to her Papa in Closet City. Can she find a way to support her special needs child?

Good points: This is a very creative idea. I’m visualizing a toymaker somewhere with a whole village of windup dolls and model trains. The story, of course, takes us into the life of the dolls, limited as it is by the number of turns their mainsprings will hold. It has an inspiring message, as Zee gives up her dreams to care for her disabled child.

Not so good points: The world building here is limited, and I don’t end up with much of an idea of what the setting looks like. I gather there are carnivals on at least nine trains, houses for the dolls and recycling centers. Because of the limited background, the characters also tend to be flat. Mattan, especially has little personality because of his disability. Winding down is fairly matter-of-fact, and there’s not much investigation of the emotional issues behind the characters’ actions. True, these are dolls, but I’d like to understand their motivations, regardless.

Three and a half stars.

Rocket Stack Rank Site Predicts the 2018 Hugo Winners


For anyone who’s somehow not noticed, Rocket Stack Rank is a fairly new short fiction review site established by Greg Hullender and Eric Wong. The site posts short reviews and rankings of long and short fiction from major pro magazines and anthologies (no novels) during the year, and also compilations of how other reviewers rated the stories. The wrap-up at the end of the year shows three clear leaders for the Hugo Award, based on this system:

Best Novella – Nexus by Michael Flynn from Analog
Best Novelette – “A Series of Steaks” by Vina Jie-Min Prasad from Clarkesworld
Best Short Story – “The Martian Obelisk” by Linda Nagata from

In comparison, here’s what the Nebula Reading List predicts, based on the number of recommendations from SFWA members:

Best Novella – And Then There Were (N-One) by Sarah Pinsker from Uncanny Magazine
Best Novelette – “Small Changes over Long Periods of Time” by K.M. Szpara from Uncanny Magazine
Best Short Story (tie) – “Carnival Nine” by Caroline Yoachim from Beneath Ceaseless Skies and “Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience (TM)” by Rebecca Roanhorse from Apex Magazine

Interestingly, Nexus rated right at the bottom of the Nebula Reading List, and “A Series of Steaks” rated fourth in its category. I don’t see “The Martian Obelisk” on the Nebula list at all. Does this suggest a bias toward hard SF among reviewers? A bias toward fantasy among SFWA members?

The Locus poll results will be available soon, so I’ll have a look at those when they come out. A quick skim of the ballot right now shows no sign of Nexus or “Small Changes over Long periods of Time.” I wouldn’t expect they’d rate as write-ins.

Discrimination in the SFF community?


A while back I made the comment that the major SFF awards seem to be discriminating against Hispanic/LatinX/Native American authors. In the past few years, it’s been easy to run down the list of nominees and see a good representation of African American, Asian and LGBTQ authors, with a sprinkling of Arabs, Pacific Islanders, etc. However, there’s been a consistent shortage of Hispanic/LatinX/Native American names in the nominations and in the Locus reviews and other reading lists that feed into the awards. This is in spite of the fact that Hispanics are the largest US minority, and combined with Native Americans, come in at about 1/3 of the population. Comments on the blog suggested that the issue was that the people who vote for the awards just don’t like the type of fiction those people write.

The lack of representation is no surprise. Despite the large numbers of Hispanics/Native Americans in the US population, they’re still highly marginalized and discriminated against in jobs, education, housing, immigration and lots of other areas. There’s really no shortage of accomplished writers within this group, so it makes you wonder what’s been going on in the publishing and awards systems to keep the Hispanic/LatinX/Native America authors so unrecognized. Now, we have a clear case of discrimination within the SFF community that suggests what might be going on.

Jon Del Arroz is Latino and, as such, falls clearly into the marginalized minority brown author-of-color category. Like many Hispanics, he apparently also falls on the moderate to conservative side of the political spectrum. His current publisher is Superversive Press, known for pulp type fiction, but also a publisher of fairly right leaning works.

Del Arroz posted a blog here about his experiences back in the spring. According to Del Arroz, he was initially promoted at local Bay area cons as a minority author, but found himself placed in panel discussions that were political and left-leaning, rather than about SFF or promoting books. Once his politics became known, says Del Arroz, then the discrimination started, based more on his ideas than his race.

In the late summer, Del Arroz was lumped with those “middle aged white dudes” after his nomination for the Dragon Awards. This was followed by a campaign in December 2017 to try to get the SFWA management to reject his application for membership. He’s also been banned from WorldCon.

So, are Hispanics/LatinX/Native Americans being excluded from the SFF community mainly because of their political views? Clearly Del Arroz thinks politics is currently trumping his marginalized minority status as a Latino. How does a socially conscious community reconcile this kind of behavior?

Virtue Signaling: Weaponizing the System


Recently I’ve been blogging about virtue signaling, which is publicly stating your opinions on moral issues in order to show your support. Social pressure to conform leads to “MeToo” reactions, and something worse called “groupthink.” In groupthink, no one really thinks critically about issues, but instead responds to the social pressures with knee-jerk, mindless reactions.

This makes virtue signaling a powerful tool in the political arena. In fact, the dependability of the reaction it provokes makes it easily weaponized. All you have to do right now to take someone down is to call them a racist or a sexual harasser. This trend has gotten so obvious in broader US politics that I can almost see powerful and manipulative Puppetmasters pulling the strings—a war back and forth—with attacks taking down Hollywood political donors, artists, senators, members of the press, anybody who influential and on the wrong side of issues. I’m sure these Puppetmasters are laughing all the while, as mindless groupthink lemmings attack one another, doing their work for them. Anybody who questions the process gets a dose of the same.

Roger Ailes and Bill O’Reilly were early casualties, and conspiracy theorists immediately speculated that Weinstein was payback. It’s pretty easy to dig up questionable actions over a man’s lifetime, but women are harder. Taylor Swift was attacked as a racist by someone claiming her songs contain white supremacist lyrics. Meryl Streep is currently under attack by anonymous posters that have appeared in Los Angeles, accusing her of knowing and keeping quiet about Weinstein—complicity, in other words. Morning-after remorse has produced calls for Al Franken to unresign, and led Tavis Smiley and Joe Scarborough to wonder publicly what’s behind the attacks. Meanwhile, the Trump administration deftly avoided accusations by taking down attorney Lisa Bloom.

Bringing the focus back to the SFF community, I think these same hazards have been working in the heavy polarization of relations. Don’t get me wrong. It’s definitely important to call out people who are actually sexually abusive and racist, but because of the weaponizing, it’s gotten to be important to look critically at the accuracy of the claims and question what might be behind them.

The most obvious example is Vox Day, of course. Articles and comments consistently claim he’s anti-diversity, while a look at his publications and award nominations show clearly that he likes Chinese SF and promotes minorities. Another recent attack, of course, has been on Rocket Stack Rank as racist and sexist because of their dislike of non-standard pronouns. Wasn’t it at one time questionable to attack reviewers? Another example is last year’s attack on horror writer David Riley for holding conservative political views. Still another is the attack on editor Sunil Patel (see also here) for apparently being a jerk, while accusers couldn’t come up with anything more than vague claims about sexual harassment.

There may be questionable issues at work in all these cases, of course. Anyone has the right to feel affronted and to complain, but shouldn’t we be looking at things a little more rationally?

What should we expect SFF awards to do?


The large mainstream awards like the Nobel and the Pulitzer try to identify important literary works. But in the smaller world of SFF, what should we expect the Nebula and Hugo awards to do? Because the Nebula is presented by industry professionals and the Hugo supposedly by fans, one would expect that the Nebula should elect an “important” work that has literary value for advancing the SFF genre. Alternately, the Hugo ought to represent fandom and elect a popular work. But then, whose taste in reading is it going to represent?

SFF fandom has diversified, and this is no longer a simple choice. As I understand the Puppies’ complaints, they think the results in recent years have not been representative of the genre as a whole. Additionally, some have alleged that industry professionals and/or special interest groups have gained control of the awards. Why do they think so?

Not so long ago, the Hugo was awarded by the small group of people who attended WorldCon or who went to the trouble to snail mail in a fee for a “supporting membership” and wait patiently for a ballot to arrive. We can assume this group included dedicated fans willing to fork over cash to participate, plus industry professionals expecting to sell books at the con. However, the advent of the Internet has changed all this.

When WorldCon started offering supporting memberships online, then it’s easy for anybody to buy supporting memberships so they can vote without the expense of attending. This has the nice advantage of making money for the Con; however, it’s also mainly what has led to the recent problems with control of the award. Supporting memberships mean that any special interest group can influence the direction of the awards through the simple method of buying memberships. This exposes the award to influence by vested interests and activists, for a couple of examples.

I gather the Puppies tried to point this out, and when WorldCon ignored the issue, Vox Day conducted a demonstration of how it works. WorldCon’s response has been to institute measures to reduce the influence of coordinated voting campaigns, but given the presence of porn in the list of finalists again this year, this effort has had limited success.

But should this really be WorldCon’s problem to solve? Why not just accept that special interest groups will try to influence the awards? If fans of traditional SFF want greater control of the Hugos, then shouldn’t they just be more active in the awards process?

What does “important” mean for lit awards?


In his 2016 article for the Daily Beast, Tom Leclair indicates he thinks literary awards should be for works that are “the most ambitious and important nominee—a major work, wide-ranging in subject, ingenious in form, and profound in its treatment of…history.” This is an interesting philosophy, as it says nothing about the quality of the writing or the writer’s skill in putting the novel together. Additionally, Leclair suggests that popularity, or even likability, should not be important for choosing a winner.

This, of course, is a philosophy for judging great literature. Examples from the 20th century might include To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye, The Lord of the Flies and The Color Purple. These are all profound works, and everyone pretty much agrees on their landmark status. The question is, should this kind of philosophy apply to judging genre works, too?

Genre works like romance, mystery, science fiction and fantasy are splinters from mainstream literature that originally formed to tell entertaining stories—as popular fiction, in other words, without any ambition to become fine literature. Of course, some genre fiction was bound to become landmark works. The Lord of the Rings, Fahrenheit 451 and 1984 come to mind.

Novels like this don’t come along every year, but you never know when one will break through into landmark status in a mainstream literary sense. So, do the SFWA professionals look for these “important” works for the Nebula Award?

Leclair goes on in his article to suggest we’re really better off not knowing what goes on behind the scenes of a literary prize. We’re assuming the SFWA members take their responsibility for the Nebula seriously, read all the works on the ballot (or at least critical reviews), and avoid voting on things like name recognition, friendship or reputation of the publisher.

What about this year’s winners make them important for the SFF genre?

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