My thoughts on all the nominees for the 2021 Hugo Award for Best Novel

Last week, I reviewed all the nominees for the 2020 Hugo Award for Best Novel, and now it’s time for the 2021 nominees. Naturally, I didn’t read all of them in four days, but I’ve been saving up a few reviews from the spring to collect them all in this post. Here are the books I’ll go through today:

  • Susanna Clarke – Piranesi
  • N. K. Jemisin – The City We Became
  • Mary Robinette Kowal – The Relentless Moon
  • Tamsyn Muir – Harrow the Ninth
  • Rebecca Roanhorse – Black Sun
  • Martha Wells – Network Effect

Like last time, I include my review of each book, with the lowest rating first and my personal pick for the award last. At the very end, I then provide some general thoughts and reflections. Please note that these reviews were written independently of each other and not solely for this post.

6. N. K. Jemisin – The City We Became

N. K. Jemisin – The City We Became

Most readers of fantasy and science fiction who haven’t been living under a rock the previous decade will be familiar with N.K. Jemisin, being the first author ever to win three Hugo awards in a row, all for books in the same trilogy. I rather liked the Broken Earth series, especially the first book, so I looked forward to reading The City We Became. As is my habit, I dove straight in without knowing anything about the book, except that it probably had something to do with New York (see the cover).

The premise is rather simple: New York is coming alive (literally). Five people gradually realise that they personify the five boroughs of the city, each sharing traits and characteristics with their respective geographical areas and the people who live there. They need to work together to fend off an impending invasion from R’lyeh, which should be familiar to any fan of H.P. Lovecraft, although I have a feeling if it was actually R’lyeh, the novel would be very short. In any case, it’s an interdimensional attack on one city (New York) from another (R’lyeh).

While I’m not particularly thrilled by any of that, that isn’t the reason I didn’t like this book. It felt too much like the warm-up for a sequel and too much like an homage to a place I’ve visited once for just one afternoon. That’s no fault of the author’s, of course, maybe the book is awesome for New Yorkers, but I’m the one reading and I’m the one writing this review. While I think Jemisin is still a good writer and that she’s especially good at writing about emotion, anger and desperation, nothing else in this book pulls me in.

Another issue with The City We Became is the pacing, which is extremely slow, even though the plot is simple. When I write these reviews, I sometimes spend half an hour trying to summarise the plot of the book in just a few lines. In some books, this is hard, but this time it was easy. I don’t mean to say that books need to have complex plots to interest me, but then I think she could just have gotten rid of the interdimensional invasion and just focused on a few of the characters instead. Each character and their stories are rather interesting, but they feel only loosely connected and most things that happen in the book are simply strung together in a linear and simple manner. Like I said, the entire structure of the novel feels like it’s laying the groundwork for upcoming books, which is never a good thing in my opinion. The first book in a series needs to stand on its own.

I don’t recommend this book, except maybe if you really like New York and think the basic premise above sounds great, but probably not even then. I expected a lot more and will not read any sequel.

5. Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse

Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse

My quest to clear Hugo nominees continues! The award is given to works of speculative fiction, so in other words science fiction or fantasy, and it should come as no surprise that I prefer the former over the latter. It didn’t use to be like that, though, and I loved fantasy as a teenager. I’m not too keen on rereading fantasy books I first read as a teenager, because I have a strong suspicion I wouldn’t like them today. Reading Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse feels a little bit too much like these novels I used to like. Naturally, it’s more modern in many ways, but it also reminds me why I seldom like high fantasy these days (more about that later).

The story in Black Sun revolves around several characters that are a bit hit and miss. At the centre, we have Serapio, a man who was blinded as a child in a religious ritual to become the new incarnation of his god. We also have captain Xiala, who agrees to take Serapio to the capital across dangerous seas, a journey made even more perilous when her crew mutinies once they realise she has magical powers thought to bring bad luck. There are two more narrators who mostly serve the purpose of introducing the capital and the political situation there. Out of these, Xiala is the only one I really like. Serapio feels like it’s a character in a role-playing game written by a fifteen-year-old.

Overall and on the whole, I think the characters and the way they interact with each other make the novel somewhat interesting, but the world-building is the novel’s weakest link. It feels too much like a world that only functions as a backdrop to the particular story we’re participating in, and I don’t get the sense of depth that is rather important in high fantasy. This is an interesting topic in itself, I think, because it’s not the case that the world has to have actual depth (Tolkien’s Middle Earth), it’s also possible to create worlds that feel real beyond the story without having written a hundred times more material than is presented in the actual novel (China Miéville is extremely good at this, as in Perdido Street Station, for example).

To be honest, I didn’t expect much from this novel, considering that I didn’t particularly like the first novel I read by Roanhorse (Trail of Lightning, which was nominated for a Hugo in 2019). I didn’t like the setting there either, but just like here, the characters and pacing somewhat makes up for it. I doubt I will be reading more by the author and I don’t recommend this novel either.

4. Mary Robinette Kowal – The Relentless Moon

Mary Robinette Kowal – The Relentless Moon

The Relentless Moon is book number three in Mary Robinette Kowal’s Lady Astronaut series. I’ve reviewed the previous two books here before, but to summarise briefly, it’s a what-if scenario where a meteorite hits Chesapeake Bay in 1952 and destroys most of the eastern United States. The effects of the impact are more serious than that, though, because climate models suggest that the planet will become uninhabitable in a few decades. This gives us a space program in the 1950s with the goal of establishing human colonies on the Moon and later Mars, with all that entails in terms of more primitive technology and a pre-civil-rights-movement United States.

The Relentless Moon works as a stand-alone novel, although I strongly recommend you read The Calculating Stars first, not only because it’s the first book in the series, but also because I think it’s a better book. It takes place on Earth, and as the name implies, also on the Moon. While the science of early space faring and habitation is still present, there’s less of it than in the earlier books, and instead we get a political intrigue/spy drama/murder mystery. As in the first two books, Kowal is very good at portraying people, making them feel real and making us care about them. The political intrigue/spy drama/murder mystery is okay, but not spectacular.

I liked The Relentless Moon, mostly because of the characters and the writing in general, but I feel that some of the novelty of the first book has worn off at this point, and probably won’t read further sequels unless they get nominated for the Hugo Award, as this one was in 2021. I don’t recommend it unless you’ve already read the other two books and liked them.

3. Tamsyn Muir – Harrow the Ninth

Tamsyn Muir – Harrow the Ninth

Last week, I reviewed Gideon the Ninth by the same author. I summarised it as a combination of things that shouldn’t work well together but still do. I also liked the lightweight and fast-paced style. The sequel, Harrow the Ninth, continues where the previous book left off, but I’ll try to be relatively spoiler free for both books, although if you don’t want to know anything about what happens, you should probably stop reading now.

The sequel opens up with denying certain aspects of what happened in the first novel, namely anything related to Gideon. In the first of two intertwined story threads, we get glimpses of an alternative version of the events in Gideon the Ninth, which doesn’t make sense to us as readers, although it’s mostly internally consistent to Harrow, the narrator. In the second thread, Harrow has almost become a powerful Lyctor, serving the Necrolord Prime, the Emperor Undying, who insists on serving her tea and biscuits, and caring for her, all of which she detests vehemently. She is weak and miserable, not fully ready to participate in the fight against fifty-thousand-kilometres long resurrection beasts, nor in the conspiracies and intrigues in the inner circle around the emperor.

Harrow the Ninth is better than the first book in some ways, but also worse in some others. Let’s start with the good stuff. Tamsyn Muir shows she can write in this novel, because while the style in Gideon the Ninth was refreshing, it was also rather limited to that narrator and that specific novel. I enjoyed the language in Harrow the Ninth, even though it was quite different from the first novel. I also like the characters in this book and found them more interesting.

On the negative side, I think there’s a little bit too much wallowing in misery, especially in the first half of the novel. There was a lot of bones and blood in the first book too, but there it was contrasted with Gideon’s narration, which made it more bearable. Not here. Furthermore, while the plot is more interesting in this novel, it also largely leaves out the main character. She doesn’t do much at all, and things only happen to her. In fact, most of the interesting plot developments are told through exposition, so we get to experience them third hand, as it were, reading about Harrow hearing about them.

On the whole, I enjoyed the book, but not as much as the previous one. I think I will probably still give the third book a try when it comes out, but won’t pounce on it! Do I recommend Harrow the Ninth? Probably, if you liked the first book and don’t feel turned off by what I write here.

2. Martha Wells – Network Effect

Martha Wells – Network Effect

What does a security bot do with its time when it has finally cast off the shackles of its human oppressors and gained independence? Binge watch soap operas, of course! And reluctantly admit that some humans are actually rather nice and deserve some help when they get in trouble, even if they are unbelievably stupid, think incredibly slow and are inferior to machine intelligence in so many other ways.

Network Effect is book number five in Martha Wells’ series The Murderbot Diaries, although I didn’t realise that until after I finished the novel. I think this is a good sign, because even though there was obviously background I wasn’t familiar with, Network Effect works well as a stand-alone novel. A very enjoyable stand-alone novel at that.

The plot is fairly standard space-faring science fiction with a good mix of social interaction between the characters and action of various kinds. What makes the book stand out is the narrator, Murderbot, who manages to be pessimistic and sarcastic, but also funny and adorable at the same time. The style is spot on and following his attempts to keep his favourite humans alive and manage his relationship (don’t use the f-word) is a joy. Here are some arbitrarily chosen quotes so you can get some idea of how the novel is written:

I’d hacked my governor module and kept doing my job because I didn’t know what else to do (except, you know, a murderous rampage, but murderous rampages are overrated and interfere with one’s ability to keep watching media).

(If I got angry at myself for being angry I would be angry constantly and I wouldn’t have time to think about anything else.) (Wait, I think I am angry constantly. That might explain a lot.)

“Just remember you’re not alone here.” I never know what to say to that. I am actually alone in my head, and that’s where 90 plus percent of my problems are.”

(Normal = neutral expression concealing existential despair and brain-crushing boredom.)

That didn’t make any sense but using logic with traumatized humans never works. (I could make a remark there about logic not working with humans, period, but I’m not going to do that.)

It’s hard to think of something similar to Network Effect, and the only thing that comes to mind is the better bits of Lois McMaster Bujold’s Vorkosigan Saga, but that still feels like a stretch. The fact that I can’t really think of anything similar is positive in general, and I’m definitely going to read more by Martha Wells. This novel won both the Hugo and Nebula awards in 2021, and I understand why!

1. Susanna Clarke – Piranesi

Susanna Clarke – Piranesi

Susanna Clarke’s first novel, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, which I read roughly fifteen years ago, was like a colourful drink diluted with too much water; awesome content, but just way too long (782 pages, to be exact). Her second novel, Piranesi, published in 2020, is distilled awesomeness, not a wasted word!

The story is set in The House, an infinite, labyrinthine city, where statues inhabit the endless halls and waves lap against the lower stairs. Only two people live in this world, Piranesi and The Other. Piranesi, our narrator, spends his days exploring The House, mapping the countless halls, studying the tides and caring for the remains of the fourteen dead people he has found so far. He meets with The Other only twice a week to discuss their common project to search for a Great and Secret Knowledge. When Piranesi one day shares his misgivings about the project, The Other tells him that this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation, suggesting that The House has eroded Piranesi’s memory. Piranesi finds this hard to believe at first, but soon finds evidence that things aren’t as simple as they seem.

As I have nothing bad to say about this novel, I’ll dive straight into what makes it great. I love the setting and premise of the story, as well as the way Clarke gradually reveals them to us. There are several levels to this, because we as readers can deduce more about some things than the narrator can, while we explore other things with him. Some of the key themes in the novel are memory and identity, which are always interesting to explore in fiction. Are you the person you remember? To what extent is your identity defined by your memories? Do other people’s memories have an impact on who you are, even if you have forgotten?

Apart from expertly handling all of the above, the book is also delightfully written. Like I said in the first paragraph above, not a word is wasted and nothing feels unnecessary. It’s so refreshing when an author writes a book that is exactly as long as it needs to be (272 pages) and exactly as complex as it needs to be. Another author (or maybe the same author), could have taken this story and spent 782 pages telling it, but she didn’t, and that’s awesome. Wholeheartedly recommended!

Thoughts and reflections

The nominations in 2021 were significantly better than those in 2020, and it was also easier to rank the book, except for the first place, where I think the books are equally good, but in completely different ways. Piranesi is a better novel overall and it’s likely to stay with me for much longer than Network Effect, even if found it very entertaining to read. It’s hard to compare two novels with such different styles and themes, and then try to grade them on the same scale. The latter actually won the Hugo Award, which is not too surprising.

The remaining books were rather easy to rank, because The City We Became was clearly the worst of this batch and placed last without a moment’s doubt. I didn’t particularly like Black Sun either, so it came a close fifth. Then there’s a significant step up to The Relentless Moon, which was quite good and without serious flaws. Of course, I also enjoyed Harrow the Ninth, which was even more far-out than the first book; better in some ways, worse in others, but overall still very much worthwhile.

If you’re curious, you can check the final result of the voting here:

  1. Network Effect, Martha Wells
  2. The City We Became, N.K. Jemisin
  3. Piranesi, Susanna Clarke
  4. Black Sun, Rebecca Roanhorse
  5. The Relentless Moon, Mary Robinette Kowal
  6. Harrow The Ninth, Tamsyn Muir

Clearly, I did’t “get” The City We Became, because I have no idea how it could place second. If we swap that novel with Harrow the Ninth, my list looks fairly similar to the official one. I understand that even fewer people will like Harrow the Ninth compared to Gideon the Ninth, so I’m not too surprised that it placed last, even though I obviously don’t agree.

If you’ve read this far,  you probably have your own opinion, even if you haven’t read all the nominees. What do you think? Did the right book win? Am I wrong about The City We Became? Leave a comment below!


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One response to “My thoughts on all the nominees for the 2021 Hugo Award for Best Novel”

  1. […] Like last time, I review each book below, with the lowest rating first and my personal pick for the award last. At the very end, I offer some general thoughts and reflections about this year’s batch. […]

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