After breakfast we had a little walk around part of the island of Långholmen, but
At 1.00 I was on a panel to discuss the short-list for the this year’s Hugo Awards. I was not, thank goodness, the only one not to have read the latest novel in George Martin’s fantasy sequence (which in my view shouldn’t be on the Hugo shortlist anyway), and we spent most of our time discussing the American, Canadian, English and Scottish novels instead (by Scalzi, Wilson, Stross and MacLeod). Our views were not identical, in that some of us put Ken MacLeod’s Learning the World first and others put Charlie Stross’s Accelerando in the top slot—but everyone agreed those should be the two main contenders. Having read each twice, and having enjoyed Ken’s more the second time, and still not having quite worked out what on earth was happening in Charlie’s book, I had no hesitation in putting Ken first. It was in part a re-run of the panel I was on at Eastercon,when we discussed the Arthur C. Clarke Award shortlist, except that there Ken had been in second place in my mind, behind Geoff Ryman’s Air (which won, of course). I expect the George Martin will win this time round, which would make it (I checked this before hand) the fifth time a fantasy novel won a Hugo Award—all five times being within the twenty-first century (and all previous winners clearly recognisable as science fiction).
Here there was another break, and then we were both on a discussion panel of four people, which was talking about if there was a science fiction canon, and whether there should be. It was a lot better than I thought it might have been: I think (but you would have to check with the audience!) that we ended up with a whole lot of interesting ideas. This really was a most serious convention; and the level of content was often just as good, or better, than you would get at a “proper” academic conference. Anyway, that was it: we had a shortclosing ceremony; a few of us toasted each other in wine-cask-fermented Belgian beer and Tobermory whisky; and then we went straight off to the “Dead Dog” party. That was held in a pub on Södermalm called “Oliver Twist”.