The Nebula Awards could be described as the Academy Awards of SFF literature; they are 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 and I’ve now reviewed each of them in turn, figuring their odds of taking home the prize. Now it’s time to make my final predictions. This is Blogging the Nebulas 2020.
The Nebula for Best Novel is my favorite award in genre fiction. Sure, everyone loves to kvetch about the Hugos, but there’s too much drama there, especially lately, and until recently at least, the winners rarely reflected my own personal taste. The Philip K. Dick Award, which goes to a paperback original, tends to skew weird, which is always interesting, but rarely am I intimately familiar with the entire shortlist, which makes things a bit less fun. The Locus Award shortlist is always fantastic, but that’s… a lot of nominees.
No, the Nebulas are my jam: five or six books (okay, sometimes seven), chosen by pro SFF writers who are members of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, they tend to lean more literary than the populism of the Hugos, celebrating books that either do something wholly different or do something familiar in a new way. Moreover, the Nebula ballot tends to be where interesting debut authors have a real shot at gaining name recognition (I love that Kameron Hurley’s deeply weird first book, God’s War, earned a nod eight years before Hugo voters would finally take notice of her—in the novel category, anyway—for The Light Brigade).
Yes, I love the Nebulas. That’s why I started the Blogging the Nebulas project way back in 2013, the first year I read and reviewed all the nominees. In subsequent years—after I’d gotten a full-time job running the Barnes & Noble Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog (RIP)—I was too busy to read and review a half-dozen books over the course of a few months, so I handed stewardship of the series over to one of my writers, Ceridwen Christensen, who managed it with aplomb for five years. But I always followed along, and I always made my own predictions for who would win. Sometimes, we got it right. Other times, well…
That’s my very long way of saying that my investment in predicting this year’s Best Novel winner goes well beyond just reading and reviewing the six nominees. I’ve got a tradition to uphold, and a streak of correct predictions to maintain. So let’s get down to it. By process of elimination, here’s my own personal prediction for the book that will take home the little lucite galaxy at this year’s Nebulas, to be held virtually on Saturday, May 30th.
First out is Marque of Cain by Charles E. Gannon. As I said in my review, this is the fifth novel in the Caine Riordan series, and though three of the prior novels were also Nebula-nominated, none won. I don’t think this one is going to buck the trend. For one thing, the barrier to entry is simply higher when voters are being asked to evaluate a late-breaking entry in a serialized series. For another, the novel is definitely the closest thing to an old-school throwback among the nominees; if I had to guess, I’d wager Charles E. Gannon is standing in for a host of authors who write quote-unquote traditional military sci-fi and space opera who feel they have been left behind by a new generation of writers (and Nebula voters). This… is what it is; I would be hard-pressed to tell this crowd they are wrong, and different sorts of books are being championed by the award in recent years. Cynical and reactionary arguments could be made to suggest there is some sort of P.C. cabal at work, but I think it’s more indicative of changing trends, generational shifts, and a widening genre readership. However you want to slice it, though, I feel safe saying this will be another nice-to-be-nominated year for Charles E. Gannon (who, don’t forget, can now claim to have written one of the most Nebula-nominated series in history).
As moved as I was by its much-needed vision of hope in a dark time for humanity, I also don’t think Sarah Pinsker’s A Song for a New Day is going to come out on top. It’s certainly captured the zeitgeist—if a bit tragically—with its story of a world changed and made much smaller by a global pandemic that forced people to live indoors, and in their own heads, and on the internet, and pushed the desire for communal artistic expression—in this case, live music performances—underground. Reading this novel in March 2020 was an uncanny and unsettling experience, and while the author’s powers of prediction proved to be unimpeachable—seriously, how did she manage to get so much of what we’re now living through so right?—and her optimism that we can weather this as a civilization is a true balm, I wonder whether a lot of voters might’ve felt less than enthused about reading it before casting their ballots. Odd as it may seem to say, I think Sarah Pinsker had a much better chance of winning the award on the day she was nominated (February 20, 2020) than she did by the time voting closed.
Next, it gives me no great pleasure to predict that Hugo-winner Alix E. Harrow will have to wait for another year for her Best Novel Nebula. While The Ten Thousand Doors of January is a highly accomplished debut and has won over scores of readers (it did pretty well in the Goodreads Choice Awards’ fantasy category last year—where it got my vote, incidentally— finishing just outside the top 10), this year’s ballot is astonishingly strong, and of the four debuts on the list, this is the one that felt to me most like a debut. That is to say, it shows grand potential, but also room for improvement. The novel is rich in character and atmosphere and the prose is laden with poetic imagery, but the plot moves in fits and starts and—especially toward the end—seems to speed to a climax when letting us slow down to luxuriate in the world a little more might’ve been warranted. I’m eager to see what the author can do when she isn’t racing to get her first book down on paper and out into the world.
And now, things are starting to get tougher and my support for my predictions, shakier. I feel pretty safe in saying that I don’t think Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Gods of Jade and Shadow will take home top honors, but my reasoning why has less to do with the book itself —which is the author’s best, and a total delight—than with a combination of past precedent (this sort of fantasy novel has traditionally not fared well with Nebula voters…or at least, not once they’ve already nominated them) and unusually strong competition in the form of two other books I’ll be discussing in a moment. It’s certainly true that recent winning fantasy novels have been authored by writers with prior Nebula nods to their names (Bujold, Walton, Le Guin, Novik); there isn’t much precedent over the past few decades for a first-time Nebula nominee taking home the top prize for a fantasy novel—first-timer sci-fi writers tend to fare much better in this regard—with one notable exception, and his name is Neil Gaiman.
Which leaves us with two contenders, both debuts that belie their authors’ so-called inexperience (because goddam, they’re great). In as many ways as they are alike (they share a publishing house, an ostensible genre, a casual foregrounding of queer protagonists, a complexity of plot, elements of murder mystery, and a truly remarkable roster of SFnal character names), they are vastly different (one is shaped out of an existing subgenre—the sci-fi political thriller—with diamond-cut precision; the other is completely bonkers). I could see either one of them taking home the Nebula. And I am 100 percent sure one of them will—but which one?
Arkady Martine’s A Memory Called Empire and Tamsyn Muir’s Gideon the Ninth are unquestionably my two favorite genre novels of 2019, and two of the best-written, most warmly received, and—critically—strongest selling SF debuts (Nebula winners aren’t always bestsellers, but more eyes on your book never hurts) in more years than I’ve been #BloggingTheNebulas.
The former has a lot going for it—not for nothing did Amazon name it last year’s best SFF novel published between January and June. As I said in my review, it’s close to a perfect book: Imaginatively plotted, flawlessly paced, populated with deeply memorable characters inhabiting a world that is intricately built and plausibly fantastical. God, did I love reading it. I can’t wait for the sequel, which is due out next spring, even though it stands alone quite wonderfully (which is my favorite quality in a book that is part of a series).
But Arkady Martine’s book has one black mark against it, and that is that it is not Gideon the Ninth, the book that is going to win the Nebula (you heard it here, folks). I’ve known this thing had the race all sewn up since I first read it way back in October 2018, a full year before it was released (perks of the former job); my recent reread only reaffirmed my thinking. This is the kind of book that comes along rarely. It has all the qualities of A Memory Called Empire, but where that book is all about careful geometry and exquisite control, this one is about going for broke. Tamsyn Muir writes like genre rules don’t exist because—spoiler alert!—they actually don’t: There’s no reason a writer can’t blend tropes from sci-fi and fantasy and horror and mystery and fanfiction; there’s no reason a book set in another universe can’t be packed with nostalgic references to forgotten internet memes and unpopular Simpsons characters.
Well, maybe there is a reason, because not many writers could manage the chaos half as well as Tamsyn Muir, who has written an impossible book and managed to turn it into an awards shoo-in. She already very nearly won the aforementioned Goodreads Choice Award, picking up more votes by an order of magnitude than any other book on the Nebula ballot. She’s going to do the same among SFWA voters, too. I can feel it in my bones.
What book do you think will win this year’s Nebula Award for Best Novel? Make your final prediction in the comments.
Joel Cunningham was the founding editor of the B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog (RIP), where he explored the galaxy for 5 years, picking up a Hugo Award (well, tangentially) along the way. He’s now managing editor of Lifehacker, which means he’s managing at least one thing nowadays. He lives in an apartment in Brooklyn with his wife and two children and hopes to go outside again someday. He tweets @joelevard.
GIDEON
But also, I have to read the other Blogging the Nebulas entries to see how they fare, hmm.
I read Memory and Gideon back-to-back, which was exhilarating, but also left me feeling like I needed several cigarettes to accompany the surging ennui that come from knowing I probably wasn’t going to enjoy a new book as much as either in a while.
If I had to vote, I’d vote for Memory. Though even saying that, many of the reasons–I think the worldbuilding coheres better and the pacing moves more consistently–feel less like reasons, insofar as Gideon’s “faults” just feel like flavors, due to its overwhelming charisma.
Huh, I’ve actually read four out of six nominee this time.
Thousand Doors failed to click with me, probably for the reasons stated above. Honestly, I don’t remember much from it, other than the “Locke” pun making me sigh when I realized where it was going.
Gods of Jade and Shadow was a fun little read. I was very relieved that it didn’t end up turning into yet another Forbidden Supernatural Romance (TM); I’d nominate it just for that. And I thought the trick that won the race was a very well-setup Chekhov’s Gun. The story itself didn’t leave much of an impression on me; the driving purpose seemed to be the “Mayan mythology” angle rather than the plot or writing.
A Memory Called Empire was a surprise delight. I usually go for fantasy rather than science fiction, but I needed titles to order for my quarantine reading and I vaguely recalled maybe a friend saying he liked Memory, unless it was some other book. Anyway. They had me at “Thirty-Six All-Terrain Tundra Vehicle”, but the whole book was exceptionally good. The pace was exciting, the plot was intricately and expertly crafted, the characters were easy to care about. And, of course, there was the stunning worldbuilding.
Gideon the Ninth was another surprise. I’ve read many books that were super-hyped on Tor (and elsewhere), and very few lived up to the advance praise; I find most of them to be mediocre at best. So I was not necessary expecting much from Gideon, and I spent the first few chapters nitpicking worldbuilding details. But once the action revved up, I was hooked. I fell head-over heels for Gideon, and the whole wacky space-necromancer setup and the whole creepy murder-mystery setup and the whole… well, you get the idea. A Memory Called Empire was the most polished, impressively crafted entrant, but Gideon the Ninth was the most fun.
Gideon does seem like a no-brainer pick. It brings together all sorts of genre camps: fantasy, horror, sci-fi, those who want diversity, and those who like populist and fun books – it’s a true perfect storm.
I’ve read four of the nominees, but am now focused on finishing all the Hugo nominees so I can actually vote. Of the nominees I read, I find myself in full agreement with your analysis.
I had never read the Caine books before, so I ended up reading all of them in one go. They’re a lot of fun and recommended, but I can’t see them impressing the current membership of the SFWA. I’m old, and enjoyed going back to the SF of my youth. But I know that the field has moved on.
Song For a New Day is the only one I’ve read, but the others would probably have to blow me away to overcome how impressed I am by its eerie prescience so near the events it describes.
It’s Gideon by default for me, since it’s the only one I finished. But I loved it and think it’s deserving. Only nitpick is that the members of the various Houses are a bit confusing to sort out initially, though an argument could be made that the main two characters are in the same situation in-story. The energy of this book is infectious… and I don’t mean in a necromantic way.
Started Memory, but it’s density of detail was a bit of a slog, so the book’s on pause currently. I don’t normally have any issue with density in worldbuilding, but I was looking for something looser and more anarchic fun. Guess who fit that bill? Maybe I’ll go back to Empress of Forever for nutty far-future fun. Gladstone and Muir should collaborate on a story where Gideon meets Vivian.
@8 Empress of Forever is a much better Gideon readalike than Memory…; I liked it a whole hell of a lot. Extremely fun, also very voice-y (as is everything Max writes). Not quite as loony as Gideon, but super fun.
But I also highly encourage revisiting Arkady Martine’s novel. Once you get a few chapters in, it really smooths out in terms of easing you into the density of detail (and the appendix at the back really does help). Although maybe Ninefox Gambit broke my brain and everything I’ve read since just seems easier in comparison.
(Nice to see you in the comments here, by the way! I always appreciated your contributions to the anemic commenting over at B&N.)
Having only read Gideon and Memory, I find Gideon much better written and with quite a wider scope than Memory. The latter is pleasant enough to read but very unidimensional and somewhat classical and light. Both novels feature one central character spending a lot of pages puzzling and pondering, but Gideon makes it much more real. To me Gideon is like a 2020 post-punk revamp of Gormenghast! Less literary of course but with many more dimensions. Including hilarious monologues. Often too often humour (à la Pratchett) kills the point of fantasy. Not here!
It’s down to Memory and Gideon for me, as well. Unfortunately, while I remember being blown away by Memory at the time, Gideon has stayed with me. I’ve pre-ordered the next book and I’m really, really invested in the characters. So my bet is (and my fingers are crossed) for Gideon.
Hi Joel and thanks. I miss the old blog, but glad you landed here!
I’m still following the Coode St Podcast and mention it because the 2 buds have been asking the question of people’s reading choices during the Great and Unfortunate Pause, which is basically whether they choose Proust or Pratchett: serious reading that they’ve put off for lack of time (or focus) vs. fun or comfort reads. This may be a false premise and possibly unfair to Pratchett as lacking profundity (at least one author rejected the entire premise), but I understand what they were going for. It takes a bit more effort to digest a complex text than one that flows. Someone recommended Wells’ new Murderbot book: that it was a fast read even at novel length.
But yeah, I will get back to Memory at some point, surely before the release of the next in series.
I’ve read only “Gods of Jade and Shadow” and “Gideon” as yet. I liked “Gods” better. Gideon was fun and a wild ride but I had reservations. I have no idea what will actually win.
Gideon!
My personal ranking of the three I have read so far was 10000 doors/Gideon/Memory (by very narrow margins), and my expectation would be that if the choice came down to these three, Gideon would win easily, judging by the general reaction to it. But I had the impression Gods of Jade and Shadow was a very strong contender and possible winner. It was certainly on my to-read list, but that list is aspirational.
I’m familiar with 4 of the books, and Gideon was clearly above the rest in my mind. I agree Memory of Empire was probably second best, and I might have liked it more, but there was (what seemed to me at least) a major plot hole that was difficult to reconcile with the rest of the story. If that relationship to the empire is so vital, how is it possible that it rests solely on a single person? How do they not have any “unofficial” or covert assets there or more than a single source of information? I know the author was more focused on language and world-building, but that’s such an obviously foreseeable point of failure that it’s difficult to ignore.
I did not finish either Gods of Jade and Shadow or Ten Thousand Doors in January, because they didn’t hold my attention well enough, though both seemed well-written to begin with. I may go back to them, but at the time more captivating books superseded them.
Agreed on Kam Hurley too. The Light Brigade was amazing She’s a very underappreciated author. I hadn’t read God’s War yet, so I’ll have to check that out.
I believe it’s going to be either The Ten Thousand Doors of January, or Gods of Jade and Shadow.
Gideon. it’s rare these days to find something so fresh and innovative.
Well, I was super wrong! I thought the pandemic would hurt A Song for a New Day’s chances but I was apparently 100 percent incorrect, heh. I’m okay being wrong in this case–it’s a pretty fabulous book
I wonder whether enough of the voters had already read the book; ISFDB says it came out in October (relatively late in the ballot period), but I’d seen enough raves about it that I had finished it by the end of November, which meant I could say “Wow, did she ever get that right!”, where (as you suggest) SFWAns who hadn’t already read it could feel they had to drag through something a little too real in order to vote responsibly. (I don’t know how likely this is; I get the impression a lot of genre writers don’t read much genre for reasons, but I don’t know how true that is or how much it applies to a very new author.) I felt she came up with a very believable ending even of parts of the rest weren’t believable; voters may have agreed. It will be very interesting to see what she comes up with next.
@16: ISTR that much is made of the power and rigor of the Empire; smuggling in agents would be difficult (it’s not as if someone can covertly parachute in), and any unfamiliarity with local customs/fads/… would stand out — and developing local assets would be difficult for an ambassador who is relentlessly tracked and seen as a barbarian. (The people who don’t care about that distinction might not have enough connections to be worth developing.) Yes, I get that the narrator’s people have the twin advantages of memory transfer and massive training — but even so the ambassadors are indulged as foreigners, which a covert agent can’t afford. It’s also possible that attempting to develop such a network would be seen as a suffciently hostile act that the Empire would simply take over instead of maintaining a not-completely-unbalanced relationship. If you’ve read this more recently feel free to correct as I’m working from notes almost a year old.