International spec fic news of interest

There are two items that I wanted to make readers aware of today.  The first I suspect many who follow Locus and other SF/F sites will know; the second very few Anglophones will have heard about, but which may potentially see a major expansion of Lusophone SF/F.

I held off blogging about The Weird winning the World Fantasy Award for Best Anthology on Sunday because I wanted to wait to see what the editors, Ann and Jeff VanderMeer, would have to say about The Weird's much-deserved win.  Jeff makes a very good point early in his post when he says:

But there were things I had wanted to say, including that we’re incredibly humbled and grateful to receive this honor. And that one aspect of The Weird that we find incredibly important is the inclusion of many stories from around the world, not just the English-speaking world. In this sense, the selection of The Weird — along with such wins as Eric Lane for Dedalus translations and Lavie Tidhar for best novel — speaks eloquently, if insufficiently, to the “world” nature of fantastical fiction.** 

 **I say insufficiently because of course there is so much more out there — a richness, a wealth, of weird fiction, of fantasy, around the world, and because a World Fantasy Award must live up to its name and to do so may have to abandon old, time-honored symbols, too. I have some thoughts on this that must wait until a later post. 

 The Weird, for me, is a groundbreaking anthology not just because it contains a century's worth of excellent weird fictions of all stripes, but because of the time and care the VanderMeers put into making sure that voices from all across the world, not just the Anglophone countries, were included.  There were several outstanding translations that were commissioned for the anthology, in particular Gio Clairval's translations of Dino Buzzati's "The Colomber" (Italian), Julio Cortázar's "Axolotl" (Spanish), and Michel Bernanos' "The Other Side of the Mountain" (French). (I do have a translation that appears within, but I defer to her translations as well as others by Brendan and Anna Connell, Martha Tennet, among others).

Translation is vital for transnational communications and the lauding of Eric Lane for his Dedalus translation (Dedalus, along with Dalkey Archive do yeoman's work in bringing quality fictions, including speculative fictions, into English translation) is a step in the right direction in terms of recognizing the importance translators have in bridging cultural divides.  Thus it was very good to learn that works with an international bent or written by a non-Anglo-American (Tidhar's Osama) were recognized at this year's World Fantasy Awards.

But there's a troubling undercurrent to this, however.  Excellent as these award wins are in showcasing non-Anglo-American works of fiction, the reality is that in most non-English speaking countries (the East Asian countries being a partial exception, along with some European markets), native SF/F has to fight for shelf space against the massive number of translated-from-English SF/F fictions that fill most book shelves.  Those familiar with this blog know that in the past I have promoted authors published in Brazil, Portugal, and Spain when I have stumbled across (or have been offered review copies) Spanish- or Portuguese-language works of speculative fiction.    It is my belief that some of these "emerging markets" are producing some fictions that rival or even surpass those produced by Anglo-American writers:  the Brazilian steampunk community (along with some from Portugal who have appeared in bi-national anthologies) has produced some steampunk fictions that are edgier and which make stronger social statements than many of their Anglo-American counterparts.

Recently, I was offered two books by the Brazilian publisher Terracota.  The first, a collection by the pseudonymous writer Bronteps Baruq, O grito do sol sobre a cabeça (The Cry of the Sun Overhead is perhaps one way of translating the title) plan on reviewing later this month after I finish reviewing the 2012 National Book Award finalists.  It is an intriguing collection that combines elements of SF and weird fiction; I plan on re-reading it in the next week or so before writing the review.  The second book, Petê Rissatti's Réquiem:  sonhos proibidos (or Requiem:  Prohibited Dreams if the title is translated into English), which I haven't yet had time to read, seems to be a sort of psychological totalitarian dystopia based on my understanding of the blurb.  I will also be reviewing this in the future.

But the bigger news that I heard earlier today concerns the Portuguese SF/F publisher Saída de Emergência.  I have for nearly three years been impressed with some of the writers that they have published.  I have reviewed some of David Soares' fictions here and in a guest post for Locus Online, plus I plan on writing a review in the next week or two of the Luis Filipe Silva-edited Os Anos de Ouro da Pulp Fiction Portuguesa:  Os Melhores Contos do Sec. XX, which was one of the more involved literary forgeries/pulp fiction homages that I have read.  Saída de Emergência produces quality work, so I was elated to learn that they are now partnering with the Brazil branch of Tinta-da-China so that their catalog of both original and translated fictions will be published in Brazil beginning in  2013.  This is very big for both Brazilian and Portuguese writers (as well as the two publishers) because this allows for more works to be available in both countries, potentially opening up a much wider Lusophone-reading audience to works being produced by writers from the two countries.  For North American readers such as myself, it also opens up the possibility of easier imports via some of the Brazilian online retailers (Livaria Cultura being one such site I use for purchasing Brazilian fiction).  It is to be hoped that this move will make more readers, Lusophone, Anglophone, or other, aware of what is being produced.

Hopefully, developments such as this will have two effects:  1) The encouragement of non-Anglophone writers, particularly in a large country such as Brazil, to continue writing in Portuguese, and 2) that increased sales would encourage more Anglo-American publishers to take chances on translating speculative fictions into English, thus enriching other national readerships.  Very curious to see what the future will bring, but news such as this makes me slightly more optimistic.

Brief summary of thoughts of the 2012 World Fantasy Award finalists for Best Novel, plus some mention of the Anthology/Collection shortlists

Compared to previous years, this year's World Fantasy Award novel shortlist was underwhelming.  Although I did not actively dislike any of the finalists, I could not help but wonder why other 2011 releases did not make the shortlist.  Then again, looking back at my Best of 2011 25 Most Notable Releases, there were very few genre-marketed works of speculative fiction listed.  Considering my relative antipathy toward the Clarke, Nebula, and Hugo shortlists, perhaps a case could be made that 2011 simply was a poor year for excellent SF/F works.

Maybe part of the problem is that the shortlists this year, with few exceptions, have fairly conservative with their selections.  While there are some smaller presses represented on the various shortlists (including the World Fantasy one), virtually all of the works that appear on them seem to be written in the mode of previous SF/F works.  Whether one wants to cite a combination of ode to fandom/fairy dreaming (Walton), epic fantasy mid-volume (Martin), noir/Philip K. Dick melange (Tidhar), generic Southern-tinged horror (Buehlman), run-of-the-mill alt-history (King), none of the World Fantasy Award finalists stands out as sui generis.  As noted above, this conservatism is rampant across virtually all of the Anglo-American SF/F shortlists, with the possible exception of the Shirley Jackson Awards, which included nominated works from Michael Cisco, Glen Duncan, and Donald Ray Pollock which do not fit snugly into pre-fab categories.

Perhaps that is the nature of the generic beast, as SF/F genre writing in particular appears, at least at the level of award shortlists, to have become more hidebound in recent years.  Books that kow-tow to the notion of fandom as being a wonderful nostalgic entity rather than a potentially problematic force that seeks to force ideological debates down through narrow, antiquated channels appear to be on the ascendent in these awards.  The joke some SF/F fans like to tell about literary fiction and their awards, that of it revolving around which adulterous professor most in mid-life crisis will win, is in danger of being turned into a mockery of "fandom" awards that celebrate one's ability to cite references to authors whose prime was before the PC began popular, as well as how well those narratives appear to be "in dialogue" with those works.

I heartily detest these sorts of works, as I noted in my otherwise fairly-positive review of Walton's Among Others.  It vitiates any sort of evolution in approach and outlook if the author (and subsequently, the reader) tries too much to be "in touch" with previously-established "standards" for particular stories.  I do not want yet another alt-history that contains references to how changing the past could be deleterious for future existence.  I have grown weary of noir-based fictions that do not push the narrative envelope and which fail to deconstruct the premises that underlie such narratives.  Another Southern Gothic/rural horror tale?  I yawn when such fail to say much about the locales/value systems, as "window dressing" for someone who is a native of the American South can be trite at best, irritating at worst.

So perhaps this is just a phase in the maturation of what at times has seemed to be a perpetually adolescent genre.  Perhaps.  But if the trends that I note above continue, it is hard to keep a pleasant demeanor and act like these finalists are worthy of praise.  As it stands, none of the finalists would have made my 2011 Top 25 (although Tidhar would have been close) because of the flaws and weaknesses that I noted in my reviews.  But for those of you who like "rankings" and who would prefer to eschew the review essays themselves, this is how I would "rank" the World Fantasy Award novel finalists:

1.  Lavie Tidhar, Osama
2.  Jo Walton, Among Others
3.  George R.R. Martin, A Dance With Dragons
4.  Christopher Buehlman, Those Across the River
5.  Stephen King, 11/22/63


Now I have chosen not to review the finalists for the other categories, although I have read all or parts of two books in the Anthology category (Ann and Jeff VanderMeer's The Weird and The Thackery T. Lambshead Cabinet of Curiosities) and three in the Collection category (Caitlín R. Kiernan's Two Worlds and In Between, Maureen McHugh's After the Apocalypse, and Tim Powers' The Bible Repairman and Other Stories).  In the case of the Anthology category, I am too biased to select a winner, as I have a translation that appears in The Weird and I am an irregular contributor to the associated Weird Fiction Review website.  I would like to say that I would almost certainly choose The Weird as the best in that category if I weren't involved slightly in work, but for propriety's sake, it is best to demur.

As for the Collection category, I do not have the desire to read the remaining two works at this time (although I have heard good things about Reggie Oliver before; I am totally unfamiliar with Lisa Hannett), in part due to time and in part due to budget constraints.  But out of the three, I liked McHugh's the best, as it was the most diverse of the three.  I thought the Kiernan retrospective contained some excellent stories, but also some very weak tales that lowered my opinion of the work somewhat.  The Powers was good, but with very few standout stories; it was also a bit on the brief side.

I have not read any of the novella and only one of the short stories, so no comments on those beyond this admission.  Just not that into genre short fiction these days, mainly for the reasons noted above.

2012 World Fantasy Award finalist for Best Novel: Lavie Tidhar, Osama

Pornography?  And yet it seemed to fit.  Sex and violence,  he thought.  hand in hand through the smoke  The image startled him, seeming to awaken something inside.  The smoke smelled sweet and the silence was complete – he shook his head, searched for his cigarette, realised he had left it in the dirty-glass ashtray on the second shelf and that it had burned away.  He shook the pack out of his pocket, liberated a cigarette and lit it.  'Know anything else?' he said.

Alfred looked at him and the old eyes were suddenly hooded.  'No,' he said.  'If it's Mike Longshott you're looking for – if it's Osama Bin Laden you're after, for that matter – then I suspect you would not find the answer here.  But Joe –'

'Yes?'

The old man stood up.  There was ash in his beard.  He scratched a vein in the craggy, limestone visage of his face and lumbered towards Joe.  Suddenly the space in the bookshop felt that much closer.  'Are you sure you want to find out?' (p. 30)

Lavie Tidhar's short novel, Osama, is perhaps the most ambitious of the five World Fantasy Award finalists for Best Novel; it is also one of the shortest, at barely over 270 pages.  Yet within those pages, Tidhar attempts to tell a fiction that melds elements of noir police procedurals and alt-history conceits that play with the identity of perhaps the most infamous man of the early 21st century, Osama bin Laden.  Too easily such a mixture of narrative modes (not to mention the titular character) could implode, leaving a work that is hollow and devoid of any real narrative or thematic substance.  For the most part, Osama manages to avoid these potential pitfalls.

Osama's narrative possesses many characteristics of a noir mystery.  There is the prerequisite tough, no-nonsense detective, Joe, who is based in Laos, when he decides to take up the mystery of "Mike Longshott," the pseudonymous author of the popular Osama Bin Laden:  Vigilante novels.  Over the course of dozens of short chapters (rarely extending more than two or three pages), Tidhar shows Joe traveling across Asia to Paris, London, and New York in search for the elusive writer.  Along the way, certain odd descriptions, many of which contained within the excerpts from the Vigilante pulp fictions, begin to creep into the narrative.  By roughly the halfway point, if the premise has not given it away at the beginning, it has become apparent that there is some sort of parallel world interaction (perhaps "intersecting worlds" would be a more mathematically correct phrase?) occurring and that events from "our" world are beginning to bleed over into Joe's world, which is not as technologically advanced yet which also does not suffer from the spate of violence and terrorism that has plagued our world for the past two generations.

"Cool" premises and well-conceived milieus can only carry a story so far.  There has to be some else about the story, perhaps its prose, characters, and/or themes, that would enable it to stand out and be more than a competently-executed work.  For much of the first half of Osama, this was not readily apparent.  Although the short, staccato sentence bursts pushed the exploration forwards and onwards, it just felt rote, as if Tidhar were concentrating too heavily on getting a particular narrative tone down and not enough on developing the milieu in which the action transpires.  However, the second half of the novel improves somewhat, as the parallel/intersecting worlds element becomes more apparent and the implications of actions undertaken by Joe and others becomes clearer.

Yet despite these improvements, Osama felt like an outstanding novel-in-progress that ultimately failed to achieve all of its ambitions.  For all of Tidhar's dedication to getting the narrative tone down, the story rang a bit hollow in places, as the setting felt at times a bit too sketchy and underdeveloped.  The premise, however, was very strong, and the problematic issue of identities was handled very well.  Osama, like the other World Fantasy Award finalists, did not completely succeed in fulfilling its narrative and thematic ambitions.  However, considering that this tale dared to do more with its structure and with its narrative, it is the strongest of the five finalists for this year's award.

2012 World Fantasy Award finalist for Best Novel: Stephen King, 11/22/63

"If I asked you who starred in The Graduate, I'm sure you could tell me.  But if I asked you to tell me who Lee Oswald tried to assassinate only a few months before gunning Kennedy down, you'd go 'Huh?' Because somehow all that stuff has gotten lost."

"Oswald tried to kill someone before Kennedy?"  This was news to me, but most of my knowledge of the Kennedy assassination came form an Oliver Stone movie.  In any case, Al didn't answer.  Al was on a roll.

"Or what about Vietnam?  Johnson was the one who started all the insane escalation.  Kennedy was a cold warrior, no doubt about it, but Johnson took it to the next level.  He had the same my-balls-are-bigger-than-yours complex that Dubya showed off when he stood in front of the cameras and said 'Bring it on.'  Kennedy might have changed his mind.  Johnson and Nixon were incapable of that.  Thanks to them, we lost almost sixty thousand American soldiers in Nam.  The Vietnamese, North and South, lost millions.  Is the butcher's bill that high if Kennedy doesn't die in Dallas?" (Ch. 3)

Time travel stories have long fascinated writers and readers alike.  What if one could go back to _____ and change what happened?  Would the world be a better place?  Would we even exist as we are now?  What would change and how so?   These alternate histories (alt-histories) have been a staple of American SF for decades now, usually focusing on events such as the failed assassination of Adolf Hitler, the course of the American Civil War, and the November 22, 1963 assassination of President John F. Kennedy in Dallas, Texas by Lee Harvey Oswald (or insert your favorite conspiracy theory actor(s) here).  In his 2011 novel, 11/22/63, Stephen King tackles the Kennedy assassination and its antecedents in a sprawling 800-plus page novel that is in turns fascinating and pure dross.

The premise is relatively straightforward:  a mid-30s high school teacher in 2011 Derry (the setting for It), Jake Epping, is being prepped to be sent back in time via an anomaly in a local restaurant pantry.  Relatively uninterested in the Kennedy assassination or even in the social/political affairs of that time, Jake is coached up on the events of Oswald's life leading up to the Kennedy assassination by a local named Al, who for certain reasons is not able himself to make the trip back in time to 1958.  As ends up being the case for much of the novel, King devotes several pages worth of exposition toward laying out the nature of the time travel and the possible dangers involved.  It would not be the last time that he would describe things minutely at some considerable length.

11/22/63's strongest writing occurs in the middle of the novel, as Jake, now going by the pseudonym of George Amberson, has moved to a small Texas town three hours' drive south of Dallas and become a schoolteacher of this era.  Although Jake/George is rather sketchy for a character (there is virtually no development in his personality or character outside of strict plot demands), the small-town school life that King describes here is very vivid and life-like.  The budding romance between Jake/George and a soon-to-be-divorced young librarian, Sadie, is treated at some length and at times is interesting.

But even here, the excellent moments and scenes are swamped by pages upon pages of extraneous detail.  King has five years to wast...err, develop the events leading up to Jake's attempt to stop Oswald and this necessitated certain subplots, including Sadie's crazed ex-husband, that detract from the overall narrative arc.  By the time the final days leading up to the assassination have arrived, it is hard to tell if 11/22/63's main story is the romance, the stalking of Sadie, or the prelude to assassination itself.  Yet even when the fateful 11/22/63 arrives, the prose is rather bland, in part due to the lack of development of place and atmosphere.  Thus what could have been a suspense-filled moment instead comes across more as a sluggish, turgid affair, mostly devoid of narrative tension and intrigue.  In addition, the events that transpire after Jake's intervention feels half-baked and ill-conceived, as there is nothing in the events leading up to the assassination attempt that indicate the dangers of Jake's act to change history.

11/22/63's component parts could have made for two or three very good-to-excellent 300 page novels.  Yet when viewed as a whole, its narrative focus meanders too much, the characterizations are uneven, and ultimately the story is devoid of true value as a literary work.  It is doubtful that a re-reading would accentuate the book's positive; the negatives, however, might be even clearer after a second reading.  Out of the five novel finalists for the 2012 World Fantasy Award, it perhaps is one of the two weakest in what appears to be a rather mediocre year for eligible novels.

2012 World Fantasy Award finalist for Best Novel (2012 Nebula, Hugo winner): Jo Walton, Among Others

Sunday 21st October 1979 

James Tiptree, Jr. is a woman!  Gosh!

I never would have guessed though.  My goodness, Robert Silverberg must have egg all over his face.  But I bet he doesn't care.  (If I'd written Dying Inside I wouldn't mind how much of a fool of myself I made about anything ever again.  It might be the most depressing book in the world, I mean it's right up there with Hardy and Aeschylus, but it's also just so brilliant.)  Ant the Tiptree stories are good, too, though none of them quite up to "The Girl Who Was Plugged In."  I suppose I can see doing that so as to get respect, but Le Guin didn't, and she got the respect.  She won the Hugo.  I think in a way Tiptree was taking the easy option.  But think how fond her characters are of misdirection and disguise; maybe she is too?  I suppose all writers use characters as masks, and she was using the male name as another layer.  Come to that, if I was writing "Love is the Plan, the Plan is Death" I might not want people to know where I lived either.

I was the only person not to get a bun today, not that I care.  Even Deirdre got one from Karen.  Deirdre looks at me in a strange puzzled way, which is actually worse that anything.  I understand Tiberius' reliance on Sejanus much better now.  I also understand how he became peculiar.  Being left alone – and I am being left alone – isn't quite as much what I want as I thought.  Is this how people become evil?  I don't want to be.

Is it possible to detest quite a bit of what a fictional work is all about and yet admit that it achieves its aims in such a way that it would be churlish not to acknowledge its triumphs?  Jo Walton's award-winning novel, Among Others, is the sort of tale that I do not enjoy reading, yet at the same time, it is one of the better examples of the dreaded "SF fan coming of age tale" (with fairies) that I have encountered in recent years.  Perhaps an exploration of these poles of personal perspective and reaction will be a suitable angle for this review essay.

Among Others has the sheen of autobiographical experience; there are too many allusions to past reads and habits for there not to be this sense that Walton has mined some of her own youthful thoughts and experiences for this tale.  The story just has that feeling of "authenticity" about it; perhaps those who did grow up young SF fans in Wales in the late 1970s and early 1980s may have found themselves relating to the tumultuous world in manners similar to the narrator.  After all, why wouldn't a fan of Tiptree and Le Guin (among others) view the changing world around her in terms similar to those encountered in favorite stories?

Yet, for some (and I admittedly am one) readers, such confessional tales alienate.  There is sometimes the sense that the repeated allusions to SF tales and writers obscure what is transpiring in the narrator's life, covering up what might otherwise have been an interesting life with the occasionally dull references to books that were read and processed.  There is real pain and heartache to be found in Among Others, but at times the focus on the SF reader Bildungsroman blunts the impact of those scenes, leaving open the possibility that some readers will find the narrator to be a rather dull character when perhaps the opposite would be closer to narrative truth.

Among Others' focus on the narrator's past feels a bit incomplete.  All we witness occurs between 1975-1980 (mostly 1979-1980), when the narrator is between 10 and 15 years old,  during what often is the most "awkward" years of a person's social life.  Quickly we get the sense of the narrator's loneliness and her desire to turn inward, toward what she is reading and what she obsesses over, to avoid certain issues in her life; this is stated quite clearly at the beginning of the fictional diary that comprises this novel.  Walton does capture this sense of introspection present in the journal entries.  There is very little about the historical scenes of this time (for Americans, 1979 would have meant the Iranian Hostage Situation; for those in the UK, Thatcher's ascension to the Prime Minister post); instead, there is a running thread regarding SF and the fairies that the narrator perceives (the reality of which is not revealed until near the novel's end).

For those who love SF in all its disparate and occasionally warring forms, Among Others will ring true to them.  It is easy to understand how this novel would appeal to those who do enjoy the form; the longing for something different from the surrounding mundane reality; the desire for the fantastical to take shape around them; the wish for a better life than the one currently being lived.  All of these are present within the narrative and they occupy a central part.  But some readers did not have such wishes or desires when growing up.  For myself, reading Among Others was frustrating, because the world view being expressed was so alien to that of my own youth that it was difficult to relate to what was happening or to sympathize with the narrator's opinions.  It felt wrong, even, which perhaps says as much about the novel's ability to describe and present a certain worldview as it would be a commentary on perceived deficiencies.

Contrary to what some may presume, stories that spark a sense of "wrongness" are not necessarily poor ones.  Among Others does an outstanding job in portraying a particular type of juvenile reader and her worldview during a certain time.  The prose masterfully captures the essence of this point-of-view and although the issue of fairies perhaps was the least-interesting element for myself, even it is integrated nicely into the narrative.  Despite all of this, however, the more I consider the novel's themes regarding reflection and on SF genre writing, the less I find to admire about it.  This is not surprising to me nor does it dismay me; personal tastes do play a role in enjoyment.  However, regardless of my personal preferences as a reader and as an adult who lived a childhood far different from the narrator's, Among Others may be one of the two most accomplished and realized novels on this year's World Fantasy Award shortlist for Best Novel.  Those who do not share my qualms about its themes will likely enjoy Walton's prose and the slow unveiling of events that transpire around what was recorded within the entries.  It is a deserving finalist (and winner, in the case of this year's Nebula and Hugo Awards), but it may be polarizing for those who do not share the narrator's (and presumably, the author's) sensibilities.

2012 World Fantasy Award finalist for Best Novel: Christopher Buehlman, Those Across the River

By and by I slept.

And, alas, I dreamed.

Not of the trench fight; that was the worst.

And not of Metzger's death, which was nearly as bad.

But I did dream of the trench.

Something about a gas attack, and I couldn't find my mask.  But there was a dead guy half in the mud gripping his mask in his hands, I couldn't get it loose.  I was holding my breath and jerking at it, and pulling at his fingers, but they were like iron, even though his head was lolling.  He was being stubborn.

I was going to die.  I woke up gasping.

But I hadn't yelled; Dora was still sleeping.

Morning?

Yes, morning.

It was dark, but the roosters were going at it.

Goddamn roosters.

How did I end up in Georgia?

I stuffed the pillow over my eyes and ears and just lay there for a long time, still mad at the dead guy who wouldn't let me have his mask. (Ch. 3)

Christopher Buehlman's debut novel (although not new to writing; he is a published playwright and poet), Those Across the River, is perhaps the closest to a traditional horror novel of the five finalists for this year's World Fantasy Award for Best Novel.  Set in a fictional rural Georgia small town in 1935, Those Across the River attempts to portray the legacies of inhumane treatment of the enslaved by a particularly cruel master while also decking this tale with all of the trappings of werewolf lore.  Of the five, it is perhaps the most frustrating to consider, as there is much that it does right, only to be undone ultimately (and ironically) by the relative lack of focus on the "little things."

Buehlman does an excellent job in establishing his main (although not exclusive) PoV character, Frank Nichols, a veteran of World War I who suffers nightmare from his time in the trenches during the last months of the war.  Frank and his new wife, Dora, have moved from Chicago to his ancestral home in rural Georgia.  There, the townsfolk have been under the grip of a mysterious ritual, in which two pigs are sent "across the river" at the beginning of each full moon.  This monthly event, which had been taking place since the 19th century, puzzles Frank, who is then revealed to be the descendent of a local plantation owner who was infamous for his cruelty to his slaves.  Foe one of those reasons that make sense in horror tales and not necessarily in real life, the townspeople decide to end the monthly sacrifices, after which a series of brutal attacks and disappearances begin to occur.

The premise is rather Horror 101, yet Buehlman's prose often makes it feel intriguing.  Like those movie goers who scream at the screen, "Don't open that door!," the events follow logical (sometimes clichéd) patterns that allow the reader to anticipate what will transpire next.  This is double-edged, however.  While Buehlman's plot permits readers to anticipate the plot and at times to feel a heightened sense of awareness as to what is occurring beyond what Frank (and another PoV) narrates, over the course of the novel, it has the deleterious effect of reducing the setting and circumstances to yet another horror tale, one devoid of true vitality.

Buehlman's lack of attention to establish the secondary characters (even Frank's wife, Dora, who should be more fleshed out, instead ends up being more of a silhouette of a character rather than a fully-realized, dynamic one) and setting strips the novel of palpable atmosphere.  While the Antebellum era precursors for the events could have led to a more meaningful discussion of the sense of "otherness" (which Buehlman at times does appear to strive to do), his lack of detail makes this potentially-intriguing element feel like raw dough that should have been baked thoroughly before presented to the audience.  Time and time again, the character dialogues, their interactions with each other, and the presumed purpose behind the horrors feels incomplete and sketchy.

This is a shame, as Those Across the River could have been more than just a competently-told horror story.  Too often, there was this sense that Buehlman had some good ideas for making the horror work on multiple levels, only to be foiled by his lack of character and setting development.  It is not a total failure, as he does a good job in developing the final scenes, but it just feels as though it lacks a true "heart" to it; it is a good paint-by-numbers tale, but even the best paint-by-numbers works lack that sense of originality or creativity that the best works possess.  It is not a "bad" novel, just merely a mediocre one that could have been very good.  Those, perhaps, are the most damning novels of all.  Those Across the River was the weakest of the five World Fantasy Award novel finalists that I read.

2012 World Fantasy Award Finalist for Best Novel: George R.R. Martin, A Dance With Dragons

This is a revised version of a review that I originally wrote in July 2011.

He knew what he would face today, and found himself tossing restlessly as he brooded on Maester Aemon's final words.  "Allow me to give my lord one last piece of counsel," the old man had said, "the same counsel that I once gave my brother when we parted for the last time.  He was three-and-thirty when the Great Council chose him to mount the Iron Throne.  A man grown with sons of his own, yet in some ways still a boy.  Egg had an innocence to him, a sweetness we all loved.  Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took ship for the Wall.  It takes a man to rule.  An Aegon, not an Egg.  Kill the boy and let the man be born."  The old man felt Jon's face.  "You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear.  You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done.  Kill the boy, Jon Snow.  Winter is almost upon us.  Kill the boy and let the man be born." (p. 103)

If there ever were a common adjective for epic fantasies, particularly American-written works of the past twenty years, that word would be "sprawling."  More characters, more plots, more scenes, more political intrigue, more deaths, as well as more plot inertia, according to some.  One merely has to glance at various forums devoted to epic fantasy discussions to see readers complaining about the slow "pace" of "middle volumes," or of (in their minds) unnecessary delays in volumes being written to see that this "more" sometimes ends up as being a bit "less" in the eyes of many erstwhile fans.  One particular target of these accusations has been George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series, which has "expanded in the telling" from a trilogy to six volumes to (for the moment) seven volumes; some are now fearing eight or even nine volumes will be required for this saga to come to a close.

In order to discuss the fifth volume, A Dance With Dragons (recently nominated for the 2012 World Fantasy Award for Best Novel), these fan concerns have to be noted because they will likely shape how this volume is perceived.  Anticipation inflicts cruel stings to both reader and writer alike; the first because they build up expectations for how the story should flow, the latter because the story cannot aspire to be what it is, but must instead contend with the phantoms of past volumes built up by readers to be something other than what the author might imagine.  For A Dance With Dragons, the fewer expectations the reader has going into it, the better this book will be for them.

There is much to like about this story-in-progress.  Characters not seen since 2000's A Storm of Swords reappear and there are noticeable signs of character growth.  The passage I quote above marks a turning point in Jon Snow's nascent career as Commander of the Black Watch.  He is leaving behind adolescence and having to contend more directly with the intrigues and betrayals around him.  Martin does not radically shift his character as much as he organically develops Jon into being the person who may (or may not, based on late developments) be someone more than just a precocious military commander.

The tone of the various PoV chapters varies considerably, making it easier to read large portions of this 1000 page volume.  Tyrion – dwarf, kinslayer, acerbic wit – serves as the cynical, sardonic counter to the weighty solemnal tone of Jon's chapters.  His flight to the east leads to a host of new developments, including an introduction to a character who might upset the precarious balance of power in Westeros.  It was refreshing to see that there were some surprises still in store, things that I did not recall any fan prognosticators foreseeing on the various fan forums.

But beyond the richness of the characterizations (I could easily spend time on Daenerys, Reek, and a few minor characters), what was striking is the atmosphere looming in places.  Martin was a horror writer before he ever wrote an epic fantasy and there have been times in the series where he has utilized those motifs to create memorable scenes.  One particular boatride in particular stands out because of the creeping horror that threatens to envelop the people on board.  These touches, while not always strictly necessary for the plot, do add considerably to the overall enjoyment.

However, there are some serious structural problems with A Dance With Dragons.  Due to the enormity of the plots in motion (succession issues in Westeros and the East and the northern threat of the Others), Martin is faced with tricky timeline issues that have plagued many epic fantasists as they ground on toward the end of their series.  With so many characters in motion, it is tricky to move them about and to develop their characters and situations adequately within the space of a single novel.  This become very evident in the preceding volume, A Feast for Crows, where the northern and eastern-based characters were left for this volume while the southern characters came to the fore.  A Dance With Dragons does cover a little of the southern situation, but it is hard to tell which scenes are congruent with the fourth volume, which are coinciding with even the third volume, A Storm of Swords, and which are occurring months later.  Although there is some resolution of these timeline issues toward the end of the novel, Martin still seems to be manipulating the narrative chessboard, trying to place his character pawns in place for a planned attack.  There is no resolution to any of the plots here; everything is in a state of suspension, awaiting the sixth volume.

Perhaps it is inevitable that this would occur; after all, there is much left to be done before the series is complete.  For some, knowing that there's a wait ahead (some fear the 5-6 years that plagued the publication of the last two volumes) will curb their appreciation for A Dance With Dragons considerably.  For myself, however, Martin's prose and his characterizations were very strong here.  He continues to develop the theme of what one does in the aftermath of devastation that began in A Feast for Crows.  It might not be as "sexy" as wars, battles, betrayals, and so forth, but it does provide a depth to these events that make them more palatable and meaningful.  It is not a perfect novel by any stretch, but A Dance With Dragons is a solid addition to a long-running series that I suspect will be more important in the scheme of matters once the series is completed. 

Yet "solid addition to a long-running series" is a descriptor that often does not bode well when considering a "middle volume" for an award that often favors initial volumes or self-contained, "stand-alone" works.  A Dance With Dragons' lack of narrative resolution puts it at a serious disadvantage to the other four finalists, each of which are complete narratives that do not promise sequels to come.  Excellent as several of its individual scenes are (some of which are the equal or superior to the best scenes from the other contenders), the structural problems noted above do hamper the reader's ability to assess it in toto; it is very much a volume of pieces that have yet to merge to create a wider, more vivid tapestry.  A Dance With Dragons is not the poorest finalist on the list (at least one other has more serious narrative and prose flaws), but its narrative-in-state-of-suspension does make it inferior to some of the other finalists for Best Novel.

2012 World Fantasy Award finalists announced

Novel

•  Those Across the River, Christopher Buehlman (Ace)
•  11/22/63, Stephen King (Scribner; Hodder & Stoughton as 11.22.63)
•  A Dance with Dragons, George R.R. Martin (Bantam; Harper Voyager UK)
•  Osama, Lavie Tidhar (PS Publishing)
•  Among Others, Jo Walton (Tor) 

Interesting shortlist.  Out of the three that I've read (I just bought the Buehlman e-book edition), Osama was the best-executed and intriguing work.

Novella

•  "Near Zennor", Elizabeth Hand (A Book of Horrors)
•  "A Small Price to Pay for Birdsong", K.J. Parker (Subterranean Winter 2011)
•  "Alice Through the Plastic Sheet", Robert Shearman (A Book of Horrors)
•  "Rose Street Attractors", Lucius Shepard (Ghosts by Gaslight)
•  Silently and Very Fast, Catherynne M. Valente (WSFA Press; Clarkesworld)

No opinion, although I have liked previous works by Hand, Shepard, and Valente.

Short Fiction

•  "X for Demetrious", Steve Duffy (Blood and Other Cravings)
•  "Younger Women", Karen Joy Fowler (Subterranean Summer 2011)
•  "The Paper Menagerie", Ken Liu (F&SF 3-4/11)
•  "A Journey of Only Two Paces", Tim Powers (The Bible Repairman and Other Stories)
•  "The Cartographer Wasps and the Anarchist Bees", E. Lily Yu (Clarkesworld 4/11)

 The Powers was fairly good, if I recall from my reading last year, but other than that, not informed enough yet of the others to give a strong opinion.

Anthology

•  Blood and Other Cravings, Ellen Datlow, ed. (Tor)
•  A Book of Horrors, Stephen Jones, ed. (Jo Fletcher Books)
•  The Thackery T. Lambshead Cabinet of Curiosities, Ann & Jeff VanderMeer, eds. (Harper Voyager US)
•  The Weird, Ann & Jeff VanderMeer, eds. (Corvus; Tor, published May 2012)
•  Gutshot, Conrad Williams, ed. (PS Publishing)

Two strong entries by the VanderMeers.  I'm quite biased here, as I have a translation that was published in The Weird, but I think that is the best anthology out of what seems to be a strong field.  Will try to read more of the others.

Collection

•  Bluegrass Symphony, Lisa L. Hannett (Ticonderoga)
•  Two Worlds and In Between, Caitlín R. Kiernan (Subterranean Press)
•  After the Apocalypse, Maureen F. McHugh (Small Beer)
•  Mrs Midnight and Other Stories, Reggie Oliver (Tartarus)
•  The Bible Repairman and Other Stories, Tim Powers (Tachyon) 

Good shortlist here.  I liked the McHugh slightly more than the Kiernan and Powers collections.

Artist

•  John Coulthart
•  Julie Dillon
•  Jon Foster
•  Kathleen Jennings
•  John Picacio

Good sampling of talent.

Special Award Professional

•  John Joseph Adams, for editing - anthology and magazine
•  Jo Fletcher, for editing - Jo Fletcher Books
•  Eric Lane, for publishing in translation - Dedalus books
•  Brett Alexander Savory & Sandra Kasturi, for ChiZine Publications
•  Jeff VanderMeer & S.J. Chambers, for The Steampunk Bible

Good shortlist.
 
Special Award Non-Professional

•  Kate Baker, Neil Clarke, Cheryl Morgan & Sean Wallace, for Clarkesworld
•  Cat Rambo, for Fantasy
•  Raymond Russell & Rosalie Parker, for Tartarus Press
•  Charles Tan, for Bibliophile Stalker blog
•  Mark Valentine, for Wormwood

Each of the ones I've highlighted (not aware of the others' work, unfortunately) does good work.


So, which works do you think are most likely to win/deserve to win?