Hugo
Today is the deadline for Hugo voting. (For any non-sf geek readers, the Hugos are annual best-of-the-year science fiction awards voted on by sf fans.) Reading the Hugo nominees has dominated by fiction reading recently, but last week I finally finished Perdido Street Station and this weekend I bought The Bones of the Earth (when Le Guin's not cleaving in the reader's skull with PATRIARCHY BAD she still tells one hell of a story) and finished the short fiction, and cast my vote.
All in all, the state of the art seems pretty good. All of the novels were enjoyable reads and I'd recommend most of them. American Gods remains my favorite. Only one of the short fiction nominees had me gnashing my teeth with how bad it was, and several others left me cold, but there were a lot of really good ones.
Ultimately it's a relief to no longer feel the self-imposed weight of being a responsible voter hanging over me. I'm reading a nice fluffy fantasy novel by Diana Wynne Jones called Deep Secret to celebrate — it was recently mentioned on Neil Gaiman's journal; apparently he appears in it (part of it is set at a British sf convention.)
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