The finalists for the 2018 Hugo Awards, one of the most prestigious awards in the world of speculative fiction, have been announced.
One shouldn’t put to much into a story being an award winner/nominee; it doesn’t make the story any better or worse after all. But I still become all giddy waiting to seen who’s running away with the trophy. I guess it’s the same useless trait that makes me a sports fan even though I know the whole concept is ridiculous, paying teenagers millions of dollars to run around kicking or throwing or batting a ball.
It is, though, more interesting when you know a little about the combatants. And even though I always try to keep up, it seems I’ve read none of this year’s finalists. At least not so far as I can remember.
I’ve read stories by some of the nominated editors and writers and from some of the nominated magazines — by the way, can anybody tell me why the Hugos have an award category for best semi-prozine including what is clearly pro magazines (per the SFWA standards) but not one for prozines?
Oh, well. It seems I might have to rearrange my to-read list for the next couple of months.
Toby Backman 