Here it is…the post I’ve been dreading.
When I heard we were expected to make Hugo recommendations in this week’s columns, I thought, “Ummmm…okay. I wonder how I’m going to handle that? I’m reasonably smart. I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”
Well, I’m only unreasonably smart, and this is what I came up with: SQUAT. I just don’t read much contemporary fantasy, science fiction or horror. Since I passionately believe that people should only comment on books they’ve read — and I’ve expressed exactly that sentiment in a histrionic scream on more than one occasion — I can’t give you the name of a single Hugo-worthy book this year. The Graveyard Book, which I read this year and loved, already won last year. Morbid Curiosity Cures the Blues, a magnificent book that would have been eligible in the nonfiction category before 1998, was published in 2009 and in any event is not a “Related Work,” the category that replaced “Nonfiction Book.” (more…)
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I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help this week. It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I’m a slow reader. In addition to that handicap, I don’t get much time to read, and when I do, it’s often cut short, by (you guessed it) sleep. I take care of the day job, the family, my own writing, and at night, just before I go to sleep, I try to sneak in some reading. Couple that with the low page-per-hour count, and it adds up to not a lot of books read during the year.
It’s that time of year again. The Nebula award nominations are out, and the Hugo award nominations are going on now. Unfortunately, I’m a slow reader. As a result, when I’m writing a novel that requires research (like I am now) I tend to limit my reading to (you guessed it) research. So it is that I haven’t read much that appears on the Nebula nominee list. That said, my money is on 
Before anything else, I’ll say a quick requiem for my local Borders, one of the many axed thanks to the bankruptcy filing. Yeah, there are other bookstores in Boulder, but Borders had by far the best-stocked and most diverse sf&f section in town. I stopped by today with my toddler in tow, thinking I’d pick up a few books for him in the “everything must go” sale. The quiet, sundrenched haven full of comfy chairs and neatly ordered shelves I remembered was already transformed beyond recognition. The shelves looked like they’d been attacked by locusts, bare wood showing between random books scattered every which way. Swarms of people with armloads of 40% off books scurried around with the shifty-eyed look of looters. Now, I’m not one of those doomsayers who moan that ebooks mean the end of the publishing industry, and no question Borders brought this on themselves with their refusal to adapt outdated business practices – but still, I mourn the loss of a wonderful local venue. Requiescat in pace, store #407.