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          | You
              know, I didn't think about it at the time. I was just consumed
              with getting the tape, getting the coverage. But when we got the
              train to the SECC for the Hugo Ceremonies, that was out last trip
              for the convention. Originally, we'd planned on poking about a
              bit on Monday, but when we went to get train tickets to Hereford
              from Glasgow, we heard a few dire predictions about how long such
              a train trip would take. We were told that it might take like,
              eight hours, perhaps ten. If that was the case, we didn't want
              to end up in Hereford at 10 PM; we were only there for a couple
              of days and wanted some daylight upon first arriving. 
 So on the way to the Hugos, we bought our train tickets, leaving
            Glasgow bright and early at 6:58 AM and arriving at Hereford around
            1 PM. We loved the Scotsrail passes they gave us, the little plastic
            ticket holders that now double as debit-card holders. Having acquired
            our tickets for the morrow, we headed downstairs to catch our final
            train. Given that it was about six-thirty, seven PM on a Sunday night,
            it was pretty quiet -- other than Con-bound traffic, most of us instantly
            identifiable by the tags round our necks, if not our bags of books.
 
 I'd set up via the press office to record the ceremonies on the same
            handheld unit I'd used for the interviews, the Edirol R1. Manufactured
            by a subsidiary of Roland, it's very nice and performed quite well,
            so long as you gave it good batteries. Fortunately, the same people
            who handled the sound for the opening ceremonies were doing so for
            the Hugos. All I had to do was check in at the truck and follow 
            the total-pro sound man who was such a blessing. For that particular
            portion of the gig, I'd been sort of unprepared, in that I hadn't
            brought
            my usual connector cable, thinking I'd do it all via microphone.
            But the sound folks had the cable, and actually wanted my sound file
            as a backup. Claire and I ascended to the second level of the very
            plush SECC, and I got patched in to the mixing board. I joined Claire
            near the stratospheric heights of the auditorium, in what proved
            to be the highest occupied row. But with the "stadium-style" seating
             we could see quite well
            and were very comfortable. All this goes a long way towards making
            the event much nicer. In Toronto, I recalled sitting in folding chairs
            on a flat floor in a booming room. This was luxurious.
 
 
 
              
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                | A
                      nice bit of kit -- no flash photos in the Hugo room, alas.  |  Things got underway quite on time, and the presenters were Paul McAuley
            and Kim Newman. These guys should always be the presenters. They
            set up a rather brilliant conceit, stuck to it, explored it, and
            it made the whole ceremony far more entertaining than it had any
            right to be. What's more they brought in the shortest Hugo ceremony
            on record.
 
 I have to admit a flash of great embarrassment when I first saw what
            McAuley and Newman were up to. Early in the history of this column,
            shortly after firing up the site, I posted something about the Hugos
            in which I made the mistake of thinking that the Hugo award was named
            for Victor Hugo. About an hour after posting the damn thing, I realized
            my error -- it's Hugo Gernsback -- and corrected it, but I was utterly
            mortified. So when I saw that Newman and McAuley were basing their
            entire Hugo presentation around the idea of an alternate history
            in which Victor Hugo ended up as the father of the science fiction
            genre, and indeed had the Hugo named after him -- well, I have to
            admit that my first thought was "Omygod, I've been tumbled." Of
            course my next thought was, "Nobody knows who the hell I am," a
            sort-of comforting realization.
 
 But McAuley and Newman carried this off brilliantly. They put in
            all the necessary details to keep the joke alive and frankly made
            the whole award ceremony a lot more interesting than it had any right
            to be. Here we were, watching a ceremony for science fiction that
            was itself science fiction and damn good science fiction at that.
 
 The Hugo awards were preceded by the First Fandom Awards. These awards
            give you an idea of how deep and complex the whole society on the
            edges of science fiction really is. Now, myself, I'm here for the
            literature, plain and simple. There's a lot of it and quite a bit
            is very good indeed.
 
 But there is also this deep, deep history of science fiction fans
            who publish their own magazines, not unlike my website. This stuff
            goes back sixty, seventy years. Just seeing these awards presented
            is like glimpsing into a secret society, with a history as complex
            as the literature upon which they opine. It does give you pause,
            and if science fiction readers wonder why the extreme fandom gets
            all
            the coverage, well, it is a pretty interesting construct.
 
 Given the spiffiness of the presentation, the awards themselves were
            their usual mixed bag of insider trading and pleasant surprises.
            Things started off on a positive note, to my mind as the Con committee
            gave David Pringle, the retiring editor over at Interzone, a special
            award for service. Given that Pringle helped make and shape the careers
            of some of today's top writers, well, there's a reward that's richly
            deserved. And it wasn't even a Hugo, just an off-the-cuff deal that
            hit the mark.
 
 Next up was the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, also "not
            a Hugo award". This was a tough category for me; I knew and
            really liked the work of many of these writers. I loved the debut
            novel by Steph Swainston, 'The
            Year of Our War'; it was her first
            year of eligibility. I'd read a lot of work by Elizabeth Bear (in
            her second year of eligibility), in Interzone and her novel 'Hammered'.
            I enjoyed K. J. Bishop's 'The
            Etched City' (in her second year of
            eligibility). I think Chris Robberson is on a roll with his editorship
            of 'Adventure 1' and his new novel 'Here There and Everywhere' from
            Pyr. And in the usual scheme of things, I didn't know boo about David
            Moles. I now know he has a very nice looking blog.
 
 OK, so I feel a bit of vindication that Elizabeth Bear won because
            I seem to remember long ago saying such a thing. And she does have
            a story on this site. But mostly, like, she deserves it, and not
            a little bit because, I think John W. Campbell would have really
            loved her stuff. Now I have no concrete, arguable reason for thinking
            this. But in my opinion, this was an award well done in a tough field
            where pretty much everybody I knew would have been appropriate. Good
            work all around.
 
 Having stripped away everything else, we're left with...the Hugos.
            So. Hmm. Where to start. You probably know the results by now, and
            if not you can get them here. Take a gander, then come back. Then
            take a look here at the vote totals. Shocking, I say, shocking.
 
 So, for all the hoopla more people voted for the movie awards than
            the book awards. Sigh. So, I get over it, I do, and go on to the
            actual winners, as well as the field. Talk about all over the map!
 
 For Best Fan Artist, once again we have that weird thing where people
            I would regard as pros -- Frank Wu, whose wonderful stuff graced
            some of Jay Lake's work -- end up in the fan category. Sue Mason
            won, but refused to give us a cat story. We were the losers in that
            transaction.
 
 Next up was Best Fanzine. Here, at least, the competition seemed
            pretty even, though Plokta won again. I seem to remember that they
            won before, so perhaps that's not surprising. But it was heartening
            to see Cheryl Morgan's Emerald City included in the running.
 
 Peter Weston presented the Hugo for Best David Langford, er Fan Writer.
            I love Langford's work as much as anyone. I understand that when
            one awards awards, one awards said awards to the best, in theory.
            And given all that I was still a bit surprised. Oh the Hugos! One
            must love them or go mad.
 
 Next up was the Best Website award, still a bit in the developing
            stages, shall we say. Thus you get SciFiction -- just one part of
            a huge operation with shed-loads of money to burn for art and to
            pay writers with -- competing against Emerald City, still pretty
            much a one-woman operation under the guidance of Cheryl Morgan. Not
            only are the sites disparate in size, they have entirely different
            intents. SciFiction publishes fiction, though SciFi.com has a much
            bigger interest, much of it supporting various SF TV shows. Emerald
            City is mainly criticism and interviews. In what world do you pit
            fiction against non-fiction? It just does not make a lot of sense.
            Moreover, cherry picking SciFiction out of SciFi.com ignores most
            of the content underSciFi.com which does neither SciFiction or Scifi.com
            any favors.
 
 Clearly the Worldcon committee has a bit of work to do here. SciFiction
            and Ellen Datlow won this time around. What a wonderful world it
            is.
 
 It was nice to see Jon Courtenay Grimwood presenting the "Best
            Semi-Prozine" award, into which Emerald City appears to be headed.
            Now to this observer, none of the nominees were "semi-prozines".
            David Langford -- who won again -- expressed I believe the feelings
            of many when he said, "I can't believe how semi-professional
            this makes me feel." Maybe they could just call the Fan/Semi-pro
            awards the BackHands. I can imagine a great JK Potter statue for
            this.
 
 Having dispensed with all the awkwardly-conceived Fan and semi-pro
            awards, things got into the "Professional" realm. Here
            at least, the competitors seem on an even keel and the categories
            make a fair amount of sense.
 
 China Miéville presented the award for Best Professional Artist
            to the quite deserving Jim Burns. One of the things you get when
            you see the Hugos is how much history there is in the genre. Burns
            has been around for a lot longer than I ever realized -- "nearly
            three decades," he told us, but his work is as strong as ever
            and certainly sells me books. Though I have to say the latest Interzone
            was a little, well, over the top, so to speak. While still being
            entirely within the top. Again, so to speak.
 
 With Best Professional Editor, Ellen Datlow once again took the stage
            as winner, this time in a category that was entirely appropriate.
            But once again, there is a bit of confusion here. There are clearly
            two types of editors at work in the SF world; those who edit periodicals
            and websites -- like Ellen -- and those who edit at the book publishing
            level, like say, Simon Spanton or Patrick Nielsen-Hayden. The Best
            Professional Editor makes no distinction. Now, on one hand, you have
            category bloat, which could make the Hugos longer and that would
            be a bad thing -- but on the other hand you have category confusion.
            The presumption amongst voters seemed to be that Best Editor meant
            best Fiction Periodical or Website editor. Yes, I'm happy to see
            the "interweb" as the presenters called it get some notice.
            I'd be a bit happier if book editors and magazine editors were separated
            out. Or maybe not. But it does bear thinking when you're nominating.
            Assuming of course, you PAID FOR THE PRIVILEGE and BOTHERED TO VOTE.
 
 Ahem. What followed were the awards for Best Dramatic Presentation,
            Short Form. "So that's an episode of a TV series, then?" Newman
            quipped. "Not necessarily, My Preciousssssssss," McAuley
            responded, just in case there was a rock video presentation that
            had garnered a nomination. (Great presenters, these two, please bring
            them back ad infinitum, resurrected if required.) Now, the Hugo audience
            loves to watch these clips. But I have to say that the state of SF
            TV is pretty sad. 'Battlestar Galactica' won. Now, I know that lots
            of people love this TV show, but all those whizzing spaceships make
            me dizzy and all the yelling in between just gives me a headache.
            And I suspect that awards like this to shows like this cement most
            of what people think about science fiction.
 
 "Next up is the Hugo Award for Long For– Oh the hell with it,
            Best Film!" Kim Newman was clearly having a bit too much fun
            now, being something of a specialist in this particular field. Once
            again, the spotty quality of science fiction glared in the choices.
            'Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow'? I liked the imaginatively
            titled 'Spider-Man 2', but only the Big Tent offered by SF gets this
            film underneath. Still, that's one of the appeals of SF. The 'Harry
            Potter' installment was clearly the best of the batch so far. 'The
            Incredibles', which won, was one of those critical favorites that
            I enjoyed, but not all that much. Perhaps I'd heard too much build-up.
            To my mind, the best choice was 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless
            Mind', but a science fiction movie without elaborate special effects
            -- other than a good script -- was clearly doomed in a year when
            a movie seemingly without a script but incredibly elaborate effects
            -- 'Sky Captain' -- was also nominated. Sort of the two sides of
            science fiction on the screen, right there for us to see. Interesting
            to say the least.
 
 Of course the fact that more people voted for Best Movie than for
            Best Novel should send shockwaves through the systems. Consider yourself
            shocked if you aren't already. We're talking the difference in impact
            on a reader who picks up say 'Iron Council' versus the viewer who
            watches 'Sky Captain'. For me, there's no comparison. We're talking
            popcorn and caviar. But then, perhaps that's a decent summary of
            the SF biz.
 
 
 
              
              "The last five awards are to do with the written word, and as far
            as I'm concerned, it’s the best art form yet invented," quipped
            McAuley. Amen to that! Best Related Book included my favorite 'The
            best of Xero' edited by Pat and Dick Lupoff from Tachyon Press; the
            award went to the more scholarly (read defensible) choice, The Cambridge
            Companion to Science Fiction, edited by Edward James and Farah Mendlesohn.
            I can live with this, but my heart was with the Lupoffs.
                |  |  |  
                | I
                      liked this one best. Ah the power of sentiment. |  
 While I enjoyed all the short stories nominated for a Hugo, my favorite
            was James Patrick Kelly's 'The Best Christmas Ever'. With that said,
            I found myself surprised that Mike Resnick -- a total veteran pro
            (and a big fan of Joss Wheedon's Firefly SF TV series) -- won with
            two nominations. I'd been told  that the common wisdom was that
            two nominations practically guaranteed no award; common wisdom that
            this evening proved to be quite wrong. Here was an honorable category,
            honorable candidates and a good competition. Presented by George
            R. R. Martin ("For which task I have been selected because of
            the extreme shortness of my own work"), it was an excellent
            Hugo Moment.
 
 One of the odd things about science fiction is the presence of the "mid-length" categories, "novelette" and "novella".
            But be that as it may, I like both categories and I liked just about
            every entry in them to some degree. That said, in the novelette ("That's
            French for 'quite a long short story," quipped McAuley) category,
            I was pulling for Benjamin Rosenbaum's "Biographical Notes to
            'A Discourse on the Nature of Causality, with Air-Planes' by Benjamin
            Rosenbaum" from 'All-Star Zeppelin Adventure Stories'. John
            Clute offered an erudite introduction before announcing the winner.
            Not surprisingly, Kelly Link's 'The Faery Handbag' won. It was in
            a Datlow-Windling anthology, typically a mark of both good quality
            and good distribution. Link is certainly one of the great forces
            for short fiction in the genre, and is justly mentioned as an example
            of how science fiction makes it possible for writers who specialize
            in short fiction to succeed.
 
 As far as the novella was concerned, I have to admit that I was quite
            pleased to see Charles Stross win for 'The Concrete Jungle', as published
            in 'The
            Atrocity Archives' by Golden Gryphon. I loved Bradley Denton's
            'Sergeant Chip' as well, and would have been happy there. Stross'
            other story, 'Elector' became part of his novel 'Accelerando' and
            to my mind did not stand as well by itself. Presented by Kim Stanley
            Robinson, the award went to Stross, who must have heard the common
            wisdom about the two awards and came unprepared with an acceptance
            speech. He was prepared with a kilt, which he explained, he was wearing
            because his wife backed him into a corner. No, we're not buying that
            for a moment, Charlie.
 
 The final award was presented by Guest of Honor and total cut-up
            Christopher Priest. Now, I should have been prepared for this, having
            seen him in action on the 'Room 101' panel, but he really tore it
            up at the conclusion. He referred to 'The
            Algebraist' as being by "the
            man who makes so much money he's now known as the Royal Banks of
            Scotland." I'd read every novel and enjoyed them all; 'Iron
            Council' by China Miéville, 'Iron
            Sunrise' by Charles Stross,
            'River of
            Gods' by Ian McDonald and 'Jonathan
            Strange and Mr Norrell'
            by Susanna Clarke.
 
 When Clarke won, I have to admit to being totally surprised and totally
            happy. To me, it seemed to indicate that maybe science fiction and
            the bigger umbrella it lives under, speculative fiction, were not
            growing up, but growing out -- getting bigger, more inclusive and
            frankly more interesting. Now as I said, I enjoyed all the novels
            chosen, but Clarke's struck me as being the least traditionally science
            fictional, and the perverse fact that it won a Hugo was simply delightful.
            Clarke's speech was delightful as well, making I believe a not-so-sly
            reference to the recent supposed feud between Terry Pratchett and
            J. K. Rowling vis a vis the supposed fantasy aspects of the Harry
            Potter novels. She spoke of a man who told her, "'But I'm rather
            worried by your tendency to call this a fantasy novel. Couldn't you
            say it's a novel of the fantastic, but not a fantasy novel?' And
            I said, it's got magicians and faeries in it. Of course it's a fantasy
            novel!"
 
 And thus does the genre grow outwards, one notch at a time. It's
            a fascinating process to watch, to read through and to live through.
            Newman and McAuley finished up with a bang on their Victor Hugo and
            FS (Fiction Scientifique) thread. They did an outstanding job, and
            let me mention again that they should be brought back as often as
            possible. They added a level of both science fiction and entertainment
            to the proceedings that I found most enjoyable.
 
 For my wife and I, it was back to the back stage --or in this case
            the sound console on the second floor, run by some outstanding and
            helpful technicians. It took some 18 minutes to transfer the audio
            file to their PC, and by then the auditorium was mostly empty.
 
 Claire and I walked to the train station and waited in the near-dark
            for the train. Our second Worldcon was over, and we were rather sad
            to see it go. It is a great damned vacation. It was dotted with the
            party we'd attended, the dinners with friends and just the two of
            us, rather outside the SF world. I love that SF world, especially
            seen through the window as I see it. It's exotic and energetic, obsessed
            and unself-conscious. We were already in our minds and hearts partway
            to Hereford, for another literary adventure after Worldcon. We’d
            not even been particularly connected to Worldcon, having spent a
            day in Edinburgh, and hours outside the panels in interviews and
            just walking about together. But that together thing, it goes a long
          way.
 
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