Tag Archives: Hugo Award

Should ‘Chants of Sennaar’ Win the Hugo?

by in Video Games and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I love that Chants of Sennaar is on the ballot for ‘Best Game or Interactive Work’ for the 2024 Hugo Awards. I was already playing through this game, and was likely to post about it (because it’s great!) but now I just have even more of a reason.

Not that I need a reason (after all isn’t that the whole point of this blog?) . . .

Anyway, Chants of Sennaar is a striking, almost compulsive, experience for many reasons, but I think what stands out immediately is its art style. I’ll be the first to admit that art, and art history are not really my strong suits in terms of knowledge base, and I was initially at a loss for words (ironic in a game about communication) for how to approach the description of this game’s utterly incredible art direction.

Luckily, art director Julien Moya is already talking about this over at GameDeveloper.com. In Deep Dive: The Visual Tapestry of Chants of Sennaar, he says:

“We drew a lot of inspiration from diverse building styles such as brutalist, Indian, sub-Saharan, industrial, and art-deco; we’ve also been researching the history of sculptors like Thierry Urbain and comic designer François Schuiten.”

and

“. . . we took guidance from Franco-Belgian comics masters like Mœbius, François Schuiten and Philippe Druillet. We immersed ourselves in their work, and learned how to play with radical colors, while the iconic “clear line” style of Franco-Belgian comics allowed us to emphasize simple shapes and vivid hues within a rich and familiar whole.”

Really I think we can just let the game speak for itself:

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the second element of the game which stands out is the gameplay itself in which you slowly become more fluent in five different made-up languages by solving puzzles and interacting with NPCs on each of the different levels of a giant tower (Rundisc was inspired by the myth of Babel, and while there doesn’t seem to be any connection other than the original myth, I think fans of the Books of Babel series by Josiah Bancroft will definitely love this game).

Some of these puzzles are quite difficult, but luckily you do not need to solve every single one to progress through the game or enjoy playing. I felt this was an important choice on the part of the designers, and one that makes the game more fun and inclusive. I’m a bit of a completionist, and so I went back and tried to solve everything, but I think if this had been forced on me, the game would have quickly become frustrating. As it is, you sort of make your own journey through the tower, solving what you can or want to, and leaving the rest.

As you ascend, a story begins to take shape, and the ultimate goal of the game, to unite the different cultures of the tower, becomes more clear. It is quite compulsory, with each new success hinting at the next piece of story, and making the next puzzle just a tad easier to solve.

It’s obvious a ton of worldbuilding went into creating each of the five levels of the game. Normally, I love to try and work out as much of the inspiration and allusions to real world cultures as I can, but Chants of Sennaar‘s pedigree in this respect is quite long and varied. I again have a quote from Julien Moya which lists some of the influences for the languages:

“Drawing from a wide range of graphic and semantic systems, including Phoenician, Kufic, Sanskrit, Futhark, Korean Hangeul, or Cistercian numbers”

I know essentially nothing about any of these cultures and so I won’t attempt to deconstruct any of its uses here, but if you’re curious it seems like some play-throughs (watch video 1, 2, 3, & 4) on the Save Ancient Studies Twitch channel might answer some of those questions for you (I haven’t watched them yet but am hopeful to do so someday).

Finally, the last part of the game which I enjoyed was its message which seems woven into nearly every part of the game. Again, from Moya:

“It highlights the transformative power of communication, open-mindedness, and embracing diversity.”

I would be hard pressed to think of a theme more relevant to today’s world.

Should It Win the Hugo Award?

In my opinion, absolutely. This is without a doubt one of the best games I’ve played in recent memory. The only game I can compare it to is Heaven’s Vault (which Rundisc said was an inspiration), which I’ve not yet reviewed on this blog, but IS one of my all-time favorite games.

What sets this game apart from basically everything else available, is its beautiful art direction, compelling puzzle based gameplay, and a compulsory narrative which is revealed to players slowly through their own ingenuity and puzzle solving ability.

Finally, why I think the game is important as a Hugo contender, is because of its themes surrounding diversity, inclusion, and communication.

I kind of suspect Baldur’s Gate 3 will win the award because it seems to be winning everything right now, but I sincerely hope that Chants of Sennar wins instead!

That’s all I have for now. How’d I do? Are you looking forward to playing Chants of Sennar? Which culture is your favorite? Let me know in the comments.

See you next time!

Should ‘Better Living Through Algorithms’ Win the Hugo?

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Looks like it’s time for my SECOND short story Hugo Award nominee review of 2024 (the first was How to Raise a Kraken In Your Bathtub by P. Djeli Clark).

This week, we have Better Living Through Algorithms by Naomi Kritzer.

A quick google search has revealed to me that Naomi Kritzer is no stranger to the Hugo circuit with nominations in 2016, 2019, 2020 (I’m counting Lodestars), two in 2021, and now 2024. They took wins in 2016, and 2020 (again counting Lodestars), and have been getting nominated for other awards as early as 2003.

I am . . . hugely impressed.

And a bit embarrassed that my only other coverage of this author on this blog was for Little Free Library back in 2021. Apparently I enjoyed that story but did not think it would take the award.

It would seem that if there was an algorithm for writing award worthy fiction, Kritzer has figured it out. And then gone beyond it.

Better Living Through Algorithms is both a story and not a story. It hardly feels like science fiction because its set so firmly in our modern day reality. We’re already living this premise although it isn’t one app, it’s twelve, or fifteen, or a hundred apps which should add up to something wonderful like Abelique, but — like the fabled “universal” remote — never do.

I say it’s both a story an not a story because while we have a pretty easily identifiable protagonist in Linnea, the story’s antagonist is somewhat harder to pin down. Linnea’s skepticism of Abelique kind of positions the app itself in an antagonistic role, although it never seems to do anything outright nefarious, and indeed the opposite seems to be true. It’s actually be helping people.

Of course when the app is shut down, it is because people are acting badly on the app, and again, not because of anything nefarious that the app is doing.

Of course there is the issue of privacy and the amount of data the app needs to have in order to work as magically as it does. I think there is a lot to consider here. If this data is given freely and with consent is it as big a problem?

There’s an example in which Linnea takes a picture of her closet in order for someone on the app to help her make outfit decisions. In theory she consents by snapping the photo, and could just NOT do that in order to retain privacy. But did the app do enough to allow her to make an informed decision? Abelique does not really disclose where that image is stored and what else it can be used for.

Where I feel this story does resemble a more classic mode of science fiction is the way it evaluates a technology and warns of dangers and misuse. Even more so in that there is a way we can read this in which the tech is neutral, and (inevitably) it is people using the tech which are the bad actors. Big mood right here.

There’s just so much here to consider. So many pertinent questions which we must answer not in ten years, or fifty years time, but today, as we live and breath. I won’t spoil the ending, but I think the author leaves us something of a solution but again something we must ponder and tease out for ourselves . . . as the best stories ask us to do.

Should This One Win The Award?

I’ve only read two stories so far, but this is where I would put my money if I was betting for this category.

Better Living Through Algorithms is in some ways not like any other science fiction stories I’ve read. It’s casual in it’s approach, almost simple, but as we read, we find ourselves questioning seemingly foundational story elements like the role of the antagonist. Can something BE an antagonist if all it does is help people?

Yet for all that it is “not a story” it still manages to do what many great science fiction stories have done, which is to posit potential futures of a technology. Kritzer seems to strike a neutral stance, showcasing both positive and negative side effects of the tech, but what I thought was interesting about the story, was how it was the human element which inevitably caused it to go wrong.

All of this seems extremely relevant to today’s moment, but also to the future, as the decisions we make regarding this type of tech will surely influence generations to come. Ultimately, it is this pertinence to today’s world that I think will set it above the other nominees.

That’s all I have for this week. How’d I do? Did I miss anything? Would you use an app like Abelique? Let me know in the comments!

See you next time?

Should ‘How to Raise a Kraken In Your Bathtub’ Win a Hugo?

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“Le Poulpe Colossal” by malacologist Pierre Dénys de Montfort, 1801

Well it’s Hugo Season again (and has been for a little while), which means I ought to start adding a few more reviews to the List of Hugo Nominees I’ve Reviewed. I’ll admit that after ANOTHER scandal with the Chengdu awards last year in 2023, my interest and enthusiasm for the awards have greatly diminished.

However, my love and adoration of all stories written by P. Djeli Clark has not, so I figured I’d at least check out his nomination. Starter Villain by John Scalzi, and The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty are both excellent and I’d already reviewed them on this blog independent of any Hugo nominations, so please check out those reviews if you’d like.

I’ll likely post a few more ‘hugo’ related reviews before August (I apparently post about video games now, and just so happen to be most the way through Chants of Sennaar), but my approach will definitely be a lot more relaxed than in years past.

Pointless housekeeping aside, let’s dive into this little gem shall we?

In last week’s review of Fonda Lee’s Untethered Sky, I observed that it’s easy to allow a story’s page length to bias our interpretation of it (and our description later on when reviewing). We can’t help but try to make it sound fun, or playful, even when its tone is more serious and nuanced. We enjoyed it, but saying “This piece destroyed me, but in a good way.” seems somewhat incongruous.

We don’t have to worry about this at all with How to Raise a Kraken in Your Bathtub. It is legit ‘a romp’.

Does it have serious commentary about ambition, colonialism, racism and (somewhat) classism? Yes. It is also about raising a baby Kraken.

You don’t need to read about it on the the author’s blog to sense a kind of giddiness about the story. It’s a goofy idea, and yet it’s also a significant one.

Some mechanics of the story were also interesting to me, whether it’s because I’m a writer, or for some other reason I’m not sure, but I couldn’t help but think that the choice of the main character was interesting.

Trevor Hemley is a pretty unlikable dude (the author also notes the risk of this on his blog). He’s self-centered, smug, and racist. Yet his eyes are the ones through which we see the story, and I would argue that it is essential to this story that this is true. On a practical level, we need his POV because Trevor’s ambitions and projects need to be kept secret in order to succeed and we could not be privy to them through another point of view, but more philosophically, this positioning means that all of the things we hate about him — which in many respects are the theme of the story — are reinforced by the story’s ending.

For (a somewhat random) example, consider A Christmas Story. As adults we know that those little puzzles on the back of cereal boxes (or hot chocolate) are BS, but the main character has yet to realize it. His reaction to this loss of innocence is hilarious, but also meaningful because it’s reaffirmed our own beliefs by the end of the scene.

Somewhat less analytical: this scene from A Christmas Story was in the back of my mind pretty much the whole time I was reading this. I was just waiting for some reveal to which Trevor would respond “Son of a B@ch!”. This was it’s own kind of fun.

Anyway, this post is starting to feel a bit long, so I’ll just mention one small criticism before wrapping up. The opening scene (in the bar) felt a bit needless to me, and I wondered if the story should have started with the delivery of the kraken egg to Trevor’s house. As it stands, the opening serves as this sort of weird overture which does express the themes of the story and introduces us to our characters, but I didn’t really feel engaged in the story until the kraken egg arrives. Perhaps this is just personal preference.

But Should it Win a Hugo?

Ultimately, hard to say. It is an excellent story, and a genuine joy to read but I haven’t yet read any of the other stories on the ballot yet. My feeling is that something with a slightly less comedic tone will take the award, but I also feel that post-pandemic, stories with this kind of absurdity are a bit more desirable.

I would certainly be happy if this story won, but only time will tell.

That’s all I have for this week. What are your thoughts? Would you try to raise a kraken in your bathtub? Which nominee do you think will win the Hugo? Let me know in the comments. I’m excited to talk more about this one!

See you next time.

The Black God’s Drums: A Moment in Speculative Fiction

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It would seem I’m becoming quite the P. Djeli Clark fan on this blog. I wrote in my review of The Book of Witches that “. . . this author just has my number. It seems like I’ll come out drooling no matter what he’s written.”

This has certainly been true for any of the books in his A Dead Djinn in Cairo series, but also for his more horror-focused works like Ring Shout.

Perhaps I wasn’t drooling at the end of The Black God’s Drums (I’ve been working really hard on that lol) but I can genuinely say I enjoyed this one quite a bit. Clark is becoming THEE Steampunk author in my mind, the one whose themes and tropes I will associate with the genre moving forward.

The Black God’s Drums, shares many elements of Clark’s other works, namely queer representation, richly detailed alternate history, and truly great cast of leading women.

Where I felt The Black God’s Drums stood apart from Clark’s canon, was its setting, and the prominence of Orisha gods and goddesses.

Focusing a bit more on the setting, I found that I could not wholly divorce Clark’s New Orleans from that of other short stories and novels I’ve read recently which took place in that (kinda weird but never dull) city.

Indeed, The Black God’s Drums felt as if it could have been happening right alongside N.K. Jemisin’s “The Effluent Engine”, which was published originally for a fundraiser in 2010 (A Story for Haiti), and then again in an anthology Steam-Powered: Lesbian Steampunk Stories (2011).

Effluent Engine was published twice more in 2018 — the same year as The Black God’s Drums debuted — once in Lightspeed Magazine, and finally in How Long Til Black Future Month (which is where I read it). This seems significant somehow and though this is pure conjecture and feels entirely too well conceived and executed, I would not be surprised if it had something to do with 2018 being New Orleans’s tricentennial.

Of course, The Ballad of Perilous Graves was never far from mind either and even though I didn’t pick out any shared elements (besides things that fly that “shouldn’t” (like boats or buses)), Clark’s novella certainly felt like it could have existed in Perilous Graves‘s history.

I felt this conversation (which might not have been intended at all; but also might have been) with other New Orleans based speculative fiction was a feature of the story, and not a bug. Much in the same way The Deep had a history which added significance and meaning to its existence beyond just the story within its pages, so too did The Black Gods Drums acquire a kind of place within the geography of speculative fiction (even if only in my own mind).

I also mentioned Orisha gods and goddesses earlier, and it would be a shame not to return to them now as they were also one of my favorite parts of the book. Because of their use and inclusion in the story, I think we might also be able to consider TBGD part of the Godpunk genre as well.

My previous experience with the Orisha pantheon, and Yoruba religion, stems mostly from books like David Mogo Godhunter, and the Nsibidi Scripts (Akata) series from Nnedi Okorafor.

I didn’t recognize Oya and Oshun from either of those books (although the Okorafor books I read a LONG time ago), so it was cool to encounter two new (to me) goddesses. Their appearance in a setting outside of Africa seemed noteworthy and if their actions in the story are anything to judge by, powerful and badass.

It’s worth mentioning that this book was nominated for a Hugo in 2019, against heavy hitters like Martha Well’s Artificial Condition, Seanan McGuire’s Beneath the Sugar Sky, and Binti: The Night Masquerade. Of the novellas I’ve read from that year, I probably would have chosen Binti, but Murderbot is also high on my list. While everything I’ve mentioned above means that The Black Gods Drums is an excellent story and well worth reading, it just didn’t quite reach the level of those other nominations for me.

Give This One Read?

Definitely. There is so much to consider in these scant 107 pages that I feel like my review is longer than the text itself. For me, Clark has proven himself to be THE Steampunk author, and this novella is a great addition to his canon. In many ways it resembles his other works, primarily in its themes of queer representation, detailed alternate history, and a great cast of female characters.

But it is also different. It’s setting in New Orleans connects it with other author’s works of the time, marking it as part of a moment in SFF. The use of the Orisha pantheon connects it still further with similar work, but also just ups the cool factor in general.

While I would not have awarded this one the Hugo myself, that doesn’t mean it isn’t still an incredible book. I hope to see Creeper and the captain in another steampunk New Orleans adventure soon!

That’s all I have for this week! What are your thoughts? Have you read this one before? Would you consider giving it a shot? What are your favorite P. Djeli Clark stories? Your fav Steam punk? Any other stories set in NOLA that I should read?

Can’t wait to read your thoughts in the comments.

Until next time!

Discovering New York’s Soul in N.K. Jemisin’s ‘The City We Became’

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I hesitate to call 2023 my year of urban fantasy, but looking back over this year’s reviews I’m noticing that at least 4 of the 22 (so far) books I’ve read this year, have some kind of city at their heart.

We’ve spent time in medieval Constantinople (Assassin’s Creed The Golden City), flown down the streets of the fantastical Elendel (Mistborn: Shadows of the Self), and heard the symphony that is New Orleans in The Ballad of Perilous Graves.

But perhaps the most striking — and bizarre (in a good way) — depiction of a city so far, is the vitality of N.K. Jemisin’s New York in The City We Became.

I’ve been anxious to read this book for quite some time. During the 2021 Hugo season, the hype for this title was strong indeed with many wondering if Jemisin could pull off a fourth win after taking home the rocket in 2016, 2017, and 2018 for her Broken Earth trilogy. Ultimately, Martha Well‘s Network Effect won out, and while perhaps not my pick (I probably would have gone with Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse) it seems that every book on the ballot that year was powerhouse. City We Became was no exception.

With all of that hype, I’m not quite sure how I managed to sleep on this one until nearly the end of 2023. However, after reading the precursor to this story, A City Born Great, in How Long ‘Til Black Future Month, when my book club (a 2nd club, not the one which read HLTBFM) proposed it, it seemed like destiny.

So How Was it Already?

In two words: really good.

Despite all the urban fantasy I just cited above, I can honestly say that I’ve never read a book quite like this. Even with plenty of foreknowledge of the premise, and reading A City Born Great beforehand, I was still completely astounded by how Jemisin was able anthropomorphize an entire city.

I’ve only been to New York a handful of times, the memorable visits being right after the trade centers came down, another time when I was pretty young to visit the Jazz Museum in Harlem, and once after college to get brunch at the Blue Note, and take a tour of the ancient Egypt exhibit at the Met.

Oh and I stayed with a friend once on Roosevelt Island and complained when we couldn’t find any decent Mexican food. I think we also visited Carnegie hall and cracked jokes that Donald Trump must be quite an important person since he had a Starbucks on the first floor of Trump tower, completely ignoring the fact his name was on the side of a skyscraper (this was pre presidency so I hadn’t grown to hate him yet).

I just googled all of those places just to see. They’re all in Manhattan.

I guess I have some exploring to do next time I’m in NYC.

But I digress . . .

I bring this up because in my handful of visits to the Big Apple, I’ve only managed to play tourist in one borough. Jemisin takes on five.

I would love to get a New Yorker’s point of view, but in my limited opinion she not only managed the task, but even excelled at giving each borough a unique voice and character. I maybe wish we had heard more from Queens, not because I have any particular attachment to that borough — so far as I know I’ve never been — but because I just enjoyed her character and wanted to see more.

But regardless of the exact mix of ingredients, the resulting treat was not only a fun and engaging story, but one which I felt gave New York a little more depth in my mind. More than just a dot on a map, or a place I’d been a few times but a city which lives and breathes. Since this is literally what it became in her book I’d say job well done.

As much as The City We Became is a love letter to New York, it also reads as a kind of clap-back at some of the more negative (ahem racist) aspects of Speculative Fiction’s history, particularly H.P. Lovecraft’s The Horror of Red Hook.

We’ve seen something similar in Jemisin’s short story Walking Awake (also in HLTBFM) where she takes shots at Robert Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters, and it is quickly becoming one of my favorite aspects of her writing. An element that not only shines a light on the past but also holds a mirror up to today.

I haven’t read much Lovecraft, and had never heard of this Red Hook story before reading The City We Became, so I’m not sure how much The Enemy draws from Cthulu mythos alone, but I could also see a lot of Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters in the way some of the folks were being controlled. A very cool nuance.

Give This One a Read?

Absolutely! If all the awards nominations were somehow not enough, I guess let my recommendation decide it for you?

This book is a fun read which has the dual purpose of showing Jemisin’s love for NYC while also shining a light on some of the darker places in the genre’s history.

I’m sure there’s a lot more to unpack here so please let me know your thoughts on this one in the comments!

See you next time!

Should ‘Finna’ Win a Hugo?

by in Book Reviews, Sci Fi Month, Sci-Fi and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Hi again. Another Wednesday, another review. This time we’re talking about Hugo Award finalist Finna by Nino Cipri. I’ve reviewed quite a bit of Hugo finalists already, so if you’re interested in checking out any of those, please do.

Also, it’s #SciFiMonth, which is always a great time. The two posts I’ve done for it so far are a review of Andy Weir’s Project Hail Mary and Five (non-American) Authors I Want to Read. I’m hoping to do more as the month goes on so I’ll be storing them in the Sci Fi Month tag if you’re interested in the latest.

Anyway, onward with the review!

In general, I really enjoyed this story. I think nearly everyone has shared the experience of getting so totally and completely bassackwardly lost in a big-box store like this (specifically IKEA) that it isn’t hard to imagine you’ve accidently stepped off the path of your own reality and entered into some kind of labyrinthian alternative composed entirely of the latest trending cabinetry.

(Or at the very least had an experience like SCP-3008)

It felt almost cathartic to have it confirmed, and to find out that the corporation who designed such a place, knows about it and attempted to smooth over the problem in the only way they know how: some faux hip instructional bullshit.

Everything mentioned above is enough for an incredible story, but the fact that this is merely the platform on which to explore romance, marginalization(s), trauma, and the path toward healing, to my mind, is what makes this story stand out. It’s also pretty funny at times.

The last element of Finna which I felt interesting to note was it’s use of the multiverse (trope?) theory. In late 2021, we are seeing multiverses EVERYWHERE in fiction. The obvious ones right now are Marvel’s What If, Loki, Into the Spiderverse and the upcoming Spiderman No Way Home, but I feel we’ve seen a lot of multiverse fiction even within the Hugo finalists from 2020 (which means we’ve been in this moment for a while).

The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson made expert use of the multiverse to heighten the tension and moral questions of the story. Michael Zapata’s The Lost Book of Adana Moreau was another 2020 award winner which relied heavily on the multiverse (kicking myself for not reviewing it here. sooo goood!). I’m unsure whether portal fantasy counts as a multiverse story, but that would add The Wayward Children series by Seanan McGuire, and Naomi Kritzer’s Little Free Library to the trend as well.

All of these stories use the multiverse to express a variety of different questions and themes. What do you do when you (literally/physically) are confronted with a better version of yourself? With one that’s worse? What would have happened if you had done that one thing differently? If your entire world/circumstances were different, who would you be then? There’s a kind of nature vs nurture argument happening in these stories, but also a kind of fatalism.

While I’ve enjoyed many multiverse stories, I’ve started to feel the message has shifted (I would say unintentionally), and I’ve asked myself why do our hero’s actions matter if there are infinite realities in which those actions didn’t take place?

What I enjoyed about Finna was that it seemed to posit that this was a source of freedom rather than despair. There is a universe in which you are a coward and there is a universe in which you are brave, and there are universes in which you do not exist at all. So do whatever you want. You’re not beholden to any other version of yourself.

Perhaps I’ve read too much into what was on the page, but to my mind, this take was quite refreshing and also a relief.

So . . . Hugo Award?

No. Despite all the good and heavy things packed inside of Finna, I’m still thinking that Tochi Onyebuchi’s Riot Baby is the choice. I mentioned in my review that Riot Baby was almost a mood instead of a book. Plus as a writer I could just feel that there was a lot to study and emulate within that story. I did not get the same vibes from Finna.

But know this. Finna will definitely be a hard 2nd place to dethrone, and though it isn’t my choice this time, I would still like to encourage everyone to read this story and see what you take away from it. Also, there are an infinite amount of universes in which Finna was my 1st choice so think on that!

The links to Hugo Award Finalists I’ve reviewed

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Hi all! I was finding it hard to keep track of the different reviews I’ve done for Hugo Award finalists, so I decided to make a post that’s only that.

I will NOT be updating the Hugo Finalists Reaction post anymore. I may still update the Hugo’s Are Coming! post but it has a bunch of extra stuff that isn’t relevant to the finalists.

I’ll just update this as I go. Enjoy!

2024

Best Novel:

Best Novella

Best Short Story

Best Series

  • Imperial Radch, Ann Leckie

Best Game or Interactive Work

2023

Best Novel:

2022

Best Novel:

Best Novella

Best Series:

Lodestar Award for Best Young Adult Book:

Astounding Award for Best New Writer:

2021

Best novel:

Best Short Story:

Best novella:

Best Series:

Lodestar Award for Best Young Adult Book:

Astounding Award for Best New Writer:

2020

Best Novel:

Best Novella:

2019

Best Novella:

2016

Best Novella:

2014

Best novel:

2013

Best novel:

2010

Best short story:

1980

Best novella:

Best short story:

1968

Best novel:

1966

Best novel:

Ok. That’s all I’ve managed so far. Thanks for stopping by!