2024 Nebula Novel Finalists.

On 14/03/25 02:11, James Nicoll wrote:

The finalists are

2024 Nebula Awards®
 
Best Novel
 
    Sleeping Worlds Have No Memory by Yaroslav Barsukov

Not read.

    Rakesfall by Vajra Chandrasekera

Terrible. Nothing much happens. There is a lack of continuity from
re-incarnation to re-incarnation. I do not like her prose and gave her
Saint of Bright Doors just 1 star so shouldn't even have begun this.

    Asunder by Kerstin Hall

Brilliant prose, intrigue, suspense, characters and dialogue with a
fascinating background of reality distortion or interference by "gods"
competing with each other with humans as pawns. It should be easy to
find a synopsis elsewhere. As in Rakesfall, two "souls" are bound
together but Asunder has the future science to explain details as well
as it being crucial to the plot with a specific mission in just one
lifetime. It took a short while to become accustomed to the names of
people, places, honorifics etc but that is my only mild grumble. Four
stars.

    A Sorceress Comes to Call by T. Kingfisher

Not read.

    The Book of Love by Kelly Link

Sounds awful.

    Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell

Whilst reality distortion might sound crazy, Kerstin Hall treats it
seriously and has the pseudo science to back it up but Wiswell's
amorphous grey blob of jelly is just as stupid as the plot is simple,
the dialogue and the character's behaviours. The only redeeming feature
was the humour in the early chapters when the jelly monster's pragmatic
background contained thoughts that were not anthropomorphic. Hunters
waken this much feared monster early from hibernation so it functions
only feebly for many chapters. It has no internal workings, no blood, no
organs, no brain but instead of absorbing humans simply for nutrition,
it can retain parts such as the skull and bones so that it can disguise
itself as a human, or it might retain the stomach as a bag to carry
stuff in. It also absorbs a bear trap to bite people's heads off with.
It develops feelings somehow. Absolute rubbish. Both content and prose.
Not one star; perhaps a small meteorite.
I have yet to do the research but I suspect that Wiswell is one of those
drug infested homeless street dwellers of Los Angeles who wrote this
book, (and chose his nom de plume) when in hospital recovering from a
prostrate operation.