The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison (Sarah Monette)

1. This book disappointed me only in that it ended. I wanted it to keep going and, though I understand the author has said there will be no sequel, I look forward to rereading this someday. This is one I want in hardback. So, I’m a fan. But let me step back and examine why I am a fan.

2. The writing allows engaging sentence structures to illuminate the entire text—less so in dialogue, but I think that makes sense due to the often direct nature of dialogue. Between the quotes, the sentence structure simplicity is tempered by the main character getting confused with words and forming more complex sentences with retractions, retractions of retractions, and awkward admissions of fault. So even the simplicity in dialogue gets more complex than standard sentence structure. Outside the quotes, the consistent variety of structures ensure that I do not bore. I only remember one sentence that didn’t make sense to me on first read, out of five hundred pages.

3. The word choices are a bit more strange. There are a few words I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard before, and I wonder if some of that is thesaurus driven. Also, all the thees and thous in dialogue are awkward at first—not overpowering, but noticeable. But I think that initial awkwardness, and the over-the-head word choices, are intentional to put the reader into the same mental state as the eponymous Maia: he is overwhelmed and confused and awkward. And the language becomes more natural as the novel progresses and he gets his feet under him, so to speak. It’s actually an effective tactic, but it could bounce readers off in the first hundred pages or so.

4. Maia’s transition is the theme to me: from friendless, even acquaintance-less, awkward eighteen year old rural boy suddenly in favor at court but completely out of any element or depth with which he has prior experience; to effective, intentional, hopeful nineteen year old man worthy of appreciation and the favor arbitrarily bestowed on him earlier. He doesn’t solve everything—this isn’t a perfect human like Mary Soon Lee’s king seemed to be. Maia is still flawed, still hated by some he would like to be friends with, and still out of his depth and scared—but less so at the end. And that process he goes through is the central thrust and plot of the novel. He slowly realizes who he can trust, how he can show his trust, who he respects but disagrees with, who he cannot trust and how far he cannot trust them, what his goals and job are, and what he can and cannot do. When it ends he still has some regrets, but there is also hope. This novel is not just the first hundred days of his reign, or whatever the time period involved is; it’s not just Maia’s job training; it’s Maia coming of age. But not through sex or drugs or violence, rather through being able to recognize relationships and realizing what he needs to continue living sanely. This is an always applicable theme, though the specifics of being emperor are not quite applicable: it’s about being in a new situation with new people and learning how to thrive.

5. The plot does not rely upon violence, sex, or conspiracy—though violence opens the novel and there is some within, I am happily surprised by how little violence actually exists in this novel. There are two conspiracies against Maia, but they are not the focus. The focus rests upon Maia and most of the novel is a day-to-day discussion of his activities and inactivities. It’s sort of just Maia existing and making decisions about situations and people that arise in his path. Yes, the plot begins with a murder, but the plot then drops violence entirely for a couple of hundred pages before two more violent actions occur on-screen. Then no violence through the end. I found this book’s plot wonderfully paced and refreshingly honest to life, which for me is generally non-violent, non-conspiratorial, and not overly sexed.

6. Maia is a wonderful character: well built and distinct without being overly reliant on tropes. I was afraid this was going to be a book all about race relations, but it doesn’t end up being that. It ends up being about Maia and, yes, race is a part of that discussion. But Maia isn’t only race. He’s an emperor: he demands certain things and there are certain demands upon him. This is all communicated through Maia’s thoughts, his wishes, his words, and his actions. But Addison has such a strong, consistent conception of him, that they all support each other. She doesn’t feel the need to beat the reader over the head with anything, just states it and moves on. Though some things repeat, it is because they are important, not because she mistrusts the reader’s intelligence. Maia is a Mary Wollstonecraft feminist—believing that mentally women are just as capable as men at intellectual pursuits and it’s a matter of training, not nature, that makes them inferior scholars, for example. Maia tries to build bridges and accommodate others’ wishes, rather than make enemies and dwell upon differences. Maia is conscious of his failings and attempts to fix them, rather than changing the situation to his benefit. He’s the kind of guy who believes he can do better and actively strives for it, would rather take fault upon himself than see innocents get blamed, and is aware that expertise doesn’t come in a minute or a day. Despite all this, he’s an emperor and he acts like one. He’s not some weird egalitarian, postmodern emperor: he’s an emperor with all that comes with being that, but not a tyrant.

7. And that’s really all there is to say here. It hits so many things so well that I’m always wishing speculative fiction would do better, without pandering to current philosophy or cultural criticism. It’s a story of one man in a hard place, trying to do good, and it’s universally applicable for that. He doesn’t always win and he isn’t perfect, but this journey of mental development that he takes is wonderfully engrossing. Even Addison’s misses—word choices and tone—can be viewed as building Maia’s character, and that’s brilliant. I’m a big fan of this novel. Based simply on this book and The Three-Body Problem, Addison got robbed for the Hugo in 2015 because this was much more applicable, interesting, and well-told—though some of that may be the difference between Western and Chinese narrative tradition, as noted in my notes on Cixin Liu’s novel. If you need violence and sex for excitement in a novel, this isn't for you. If you appreciate deep, applicable character study, this is your book.

73rd World Science Fiction Convention: Worldcon 2015: Sasquan in Spokane, Washington

Panel 1:
The Future of Short Fiction: Online Magazines Today

1. This panel was interesting, but more from a business perspective. Since I don't find business informative to my writing process, there's not much I can say here about this panel. The only take away is that the science fiction magazine is still alive and well, it's just online now.

2. My reading list from this panel:
Lightspeed Magazine, which won a Hugo later that evening.
Clarkesworld Magazine
Strange Horizons Magazine

Panel 2:
The New Space Opera

1. This panel was packed. Standing room only, and very little of that. The first argument was that space opera never fell out of production. The authors assembled believe there is not an inherent difference between old space opera and new space opera. Though much space opera fell out of popularity after the space operas of the 1930s and forties were deemed not literary enough, there were still authors writing good space opera and bridging the gap between then and now. Iain M Banks was a major bridge, and all the authors agreed.

2. Space opera was typically defined as exploring human emotions appropriate for opera, the story and writing serving to foster a sense of wonder, a large physical scale, a broad time period, and adventure and drama. I rather liked this definition that they gave, I think it's useful and informative. It fits my conception, and expands it as well: I hadn't previously thought about the emotional content of many space operas.

3. A theme of some of the comments was how to get away from the fascist or regal galactic empire so commonly a backdrop in space opera stories. Jokingly, one of the authors suggested the next new thing in science fiction would be "committee punk". But Ann Leckie quickly pointed out what they all agreed to: that she does not enjoy overly complex political committees in her day-to-day life, so why does she want to read about them? The conclusion was simply that we need a backdrop more honest to humans and life, but not boring or dreary. We have complex democracies, and yet the space opera is still caught in the feudalism of the past. At this point, a fan pointed out that from a long-term perspective on the history of humanity, really feudalism is king and has been the major governmental force for well over 90% of history. So, the problem I was left with was how to create a system that is honest to the complexities of human politics, but not bogged down in essentially reading minutes of committees.

4. There was a brief discussion about hard science fiction space operas. With Charlie Stross on the panel, that discussion was on point. He stated that he never finished his earlier trilogy because he had realized that there were inherent inconsistencies in the science behind his story. He walked away from it embarrassed, despite both volumes being nominated for Hugos. However, he acknowledged that he is attempting to use science that humans believe is possible in his new planned space opera trilogy. He intends to stay as scientifically rigorous as possible, to avoid the inherent contradictions of his last series. He made no value judgment between his scientifically-rigorous work and the work of others—he actually seemed to support other authors treating future science as if it was space magic. He felt that it was honest for somebody to include faster than light travel in their space opera, but exclude a pseudoscientific attempt at explaining it. We simply don't know how it would work if it could, therefore if you want to use it use it, but don't try to explain it.

5. In a lot of ways, the space opera comes out of the horse opera. This is most apparent in the series Firefly and Star Wars—especially A New Hope, which steals some shots from John Ford's The Searchers. A lot of the early space opera simply switched the horse to a spaceship, the six shooter to a blaster, the ten-gallon hat to a space helmet, and Main Street to Planet OK Corral. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but to me it seems lazy because it shows authors not really exploring the potential effects of their set pieces. For instance, I think a large part of the characterization of some of the major characters in science fiction comes from their interaction with their environment: whether that's being predisposed to keeping to themselves because they spend a lot of time on a very small spaceship, or Paul really learning who he is through experiencing and understanding the desert of Dune, or Elijah's life in the titular Caves of Steel creating an outlook in him that is negatively insular and xenophobic. These are just three examples, but there are hundreds of other examples of authors exploring, thinking about, and theorizing about their set pieces, their window dressing, to the point where it isn't a set piece or window dressing anymore: it's an integral part of the story, driving philosophy and ideas, and it has effects. For Charlie Stross, this means being as honest with science as he can. For Frank Herbert this meant allowing the desert to inhabit his characters, to change them deeply, rather then just having it be a desert planet because deserts are cool.

6. My reading list from this panel:
"Anything published by Iain M Banks will be worth your time and interest." Charlie Stross said this and much of the crowd and panel agreed. It seems the consensus is to read Excession, Inversions, Use of Weapons, and The Player of Games at least.
Charles Stross' own books Saturn's Children and Neptune's Blood (These are the ones that contradicted themselves), and his forthcoming novel, where he claims he doesn't mention singularity once.
Ann Leckie's Ancillary Blank series, which was already on my list.
Doc Smith (EE Smith) for the pulp foundation of the Space Opera.

Panel 3:
Demigods, Chosen Ones, and Rightful Heirs: Can Progress, Merit, and Citizens Ever Matter in Fantasy?

1. This was one of the worst moderating jobs I've ever seen. The moderator actively discouraged much of the more interesting questions and discussions because she couldn't allow others time to think—the silence of the room seemed to drive her mad and she kept trying to move things forward. She missed so much. All this after admitting at the beginning, "My day job is writing award winning historical fiction, like The Pirate's Secret Baby, available soon from such and such a press. So I don't know much about this topic and I'm going to let the other four really take the show." Then she proceeded to ask every question, time every answer, and allow only the minimum of discussion, as well as inadvertently insult two of the four panelists, shut down panelist comments, go off on tangents from statements its obvious that she didn't understand, and generally be in the way of the panel. That said, the four others on the panel had some fascinating ideas and opinions. I only wished that I could watch them all talk, rather than this sort of speed dating panel thing the moderator attempted. These notes will be short because the authors weren't allowed to really explore any of the ideas that they brought up.

2. One interesting idea was that humans are never existing alone, they're typically in a group. Therefore, perhaps narratives of a chosen group would be more honest to humanity then narratives of a chosen one. Because everybody works together, there is some complexity to a group dynamic that just isn't there in the typical chosen one narrative. Because everybody could work to their strengths, this could allow a wide diversity within the group. This seems much more based on reality than the chosen one.

3. Another interesting idea was that ensemble casts were a simple way to get away from the chosen one narrative. Different points of view would also effectively entice the writer to humanize some villains, demonize some heroes. This would effectively get away from a messiah, or the typical story ending of the hero taking back the throne that is theirs.

4. Katherine Addison was up for a Hugo that evening. Though she didn't win it, she had great comments: she finds it difficult to get away from the chosen one narrative, because it is so prevalent. It seems that in her mind, and the mind of most fans, the setting of fantasy is synonymous with a messianic narrative. This is fascinating, but was entirely unexplored. She ended with saying, "Think about what you read, think about what you write." And boy did that ever need to be said now.

5. Annea Lea stated that she was prickly with any rules in fantasy that something has to be done a specific way. She advocated variety in everything: story arcs, characters, settings, writing styles, etc. It was awfully exciting and persuasive because she argued that fantasy today does not embrace the variety and reality of humanity or history. By being so focused on the chosen one narrative, fantasy is digging its own grave.

6. Of course the elephant in the room that nobody talked about was A Song of Ice and Fire: instead of the chosen one, this is the chosen none; he has variety through an ensemble cast and different points of view; and it's revitalizing and repopularizing fantasy.

7. My reading list from this panel:
Katherine Addison's Goblin Emperor
Setsu Uzume's anthology Happily Never After
Mary Soon Lee's short stories & poetry

Panel 4:
Seiun Awards and Science Fiction in Japan

1. This was sad: at a time when the science fiction community is spending too much time spilling pixels over issues like merit, diversity, and how to judge a book, the international presentation of the Seiun Awards were attended by 21 people, including myself. I expected a ton of people in there simply to support the diversity inherent in Science Fiction. But no, it was a large, empty conference room capable of housing probably 300. Yet there were only 21 of us. The discussion was great though!

2. The Japanese government is currently studying science fiction, anime, and mecha by giving grants to the universities to establish departments to historically collect, collate, and document, as well as study these through the scholarly tactics of comparative literature, cultural anthropology, and human psychology. This has been going on for some time now. This scholarly research is prioritized and highly-regarded in Japan. They didn't really have time to talk about much of the actual research findings, but they did mention that where the western world calls the cyberpunk of today post-cyberpunk, lumping everything together, the Japanese scholars see at least three distinct generations of cyberpunk, and some argue for four.

3. There was the general agreement, as with all cyberpunk of the last 20 years, that we're living in the future that cyberpunk predicted for us. The example given was left-behind construction projects and buildings in the video game Second Life. These were simply left-behind because the players moved on to other games. Because of the textures, they still look brand new and sparkling and clean, but there is no habitation, no age, no pattern of memory worn into the textures, and their abandonment is completely strange.

3. A characteristic of cyberpunk today appears to be a focus on tangibility. But more important than that, is this sense of cyberpunk pushing itself out of its comfort zone. "It's one thing to write your strengths, but it never pays to get too comfortable in your writing," said 2015 Seiun award winner and founder of cyberpunk Pat Cadigan. And of the three stories that were discussed from this year's Seiun awards, at least two showed this. In brief, cyberpunk can be loosely classified by about five characteristics: a street smart anti-hero, an earthbound or near earth culture, a depressing dystopian future run by corporations, rain slicked neon-lit streets, and body modifications with invasive interfaces with the internet. Pat Cadigan's winning story, "The Girl-Thing Who Went Out for Sushi", takes place on Jupiter, breaking the earth-bounding typical of cyberpunk. Taiyo Fujii's Gene Mapper explores a happy future earth, instead of the dark, depressed dystopia typical to cyber punk. This shows cyber punk growing and embracing new tactics, techniques, and variety. How exciting!

5. My reading list from this panel:
Pat Cadigan's "The Girl-Thing Who Went Out to Sushi", which was already on my list.
Taiyo Fujii's Gene Mapper
Andy Weir's The Martian
More cyberpunk from today.

Hugo Awards Ceremony:
Watch them here, they're uploaded online. We were all laughing and in tears at points, there were some very funny people on stage. The winners are listed here. George RR Martin said, "I wish the internet did not have this horrible effect on the discourse. It tends to political toxicity and hardened battle lines."

Wired's post-award breakdown and recap of the kerfuffle.