Hugo Update . . . And What's In An Award?

Right now, I'm about halfway through this year's Hugo nominees.  Among Others, and Leviathan Wakes are pretty good.  Since I still have yet to read more than the first hundred pages of Games of Thrones, I'm not really qualified to comment on A Dance with Dragons.  That really just leaves Embassytown with the third installment of Mira Grant's Deadline series.

First of all, the Hugos are not like a Pulitzer or Nobel Prize.  The first recognizes great American works of literature, and the second rewards an author's life work--the Noble Prize, in other words, rewards the entire oeuvre.  

When I was a kid, and played little league, we'd end the season with a pizza party and golden trophies.  Everybody got one and it symbolized your participation much more than your particular contribution.  Now, I'm not saying that the legitimate efforts of highly talents people shouldn't be rewarded

The Hugo Award was set up to reflect popular trends in genre fiction.  As such, it reflects what people like, as opposed to what is good.  Now, don't get me wrong, many of the Hugo awards have been granted to exceptional works of fantasy or science-fiction.  But what makes good genre fiction is not necessarily what makes good literature.  At the heart of it, good literature challenges both the reader and the author.  First the author must transcend the limitations of the medium to explore the bounds of human nature.  The reader, on the other hand, must equally endure.

Michael Cunningham, one of the triad of jury members picking this year's Pulitzer Prize in fiction, explains at the New Yorker some of what went into choosing three titles from more than 300.  What was so remarkable about his article, however, was not the behind-the-scenes work of jury members, but really he philosophy of what a particular award signifies.

He says that "[fiction] involves trace elements of magic; it works for reasons we can explain and also for reasons we can’t. If novels or short-story collections could be weighed strictly in terms of their components (fully developed characters, check; original voice, check; solidly crafted structure, check; serious theme, check) they might satisfy, but they would fail to enchant. A great work of fiction involves a certain frisson that occurs when its various components cohere and then ignite. The cause of the fire should, to some extent, elude the experts sent to investigate."

What this tells me, however, is that the utterly ineffable parts that Cunningham and his co-jurors suspected of greatness did not ignite a fire in the souls of the board members.  So I'm curious how other awards will fare.

Will, for instance, A Dance With Dragons beat out China Mieville and Jo Walton?  Each of these books has brilliance lurking between their lines, but G.R.R. Martin is the old favorite, and his series has recently received a boost in popularity with the made-for-premium-cable television series based on his books.  Certainly, a spike like this can't be bad for Martin, but is it necessarily good for the Hugos?

Extending this line of thinking a little, Leviathan Wakes is the first book in an expected trilogy.  Should we even consider something admittedly unfinished?

Perhaps it doesn't matter, though.  Maybe this is an opportunity for the community to express its collective happiness with a particular author or work.  Maybe its a moment for sci-fi and fantasy geeks to acknowledge their favorites and just celebrate with one another their own, personal pleasure at being part of the process.  Because ultimately, awards are as much for the audience as they are for the recipient.  That little trophy (be it a golden man, a rocket, or a golden bucket of popcorn) symbolizes that we enjoyed something.  And we want you to know it.

So maybe the Pulitzer board already has life figured out and they don't need the challenge a good work of fiction symbolizes.  Or maybe they're so far removed from the American experience that they no longer recognize it when it's staring up at them from the pages of very fine works.  Either way, we'll still smile, and clap and cheer ourselves on and reward the fiction that we love.