Wait 'till the fire turns green

Hugo nominee: Count Zero by William Gibson, 1987

My view: It could be the fact that I empathized a lot more with Count Zero's Turner than I did with Case in Neuromancer; it could be the fact that I first read CZ at an emotionally stressful time in my life (the unexpected death of my father due to post-surgery complications in 1990) that somehow caused the novel to remain especially vivid in my memory; or it could be that it's just a damn good novel. It's certainly full of the twists, turns and strong characterization that make Gibson such an vital writer at his best, but whatever the reasons, CZ still remains a favorite of mine to this day.

Nuggety?: Nah.

Hugo nominee: Beyond the Blue Event Horizon by Frederik Pohl, 1981

My view: It's a continuation of Gateway, to be sure, but Pohl never stoops to the lazy pattern of writing more of the same formulaic crowd-pleasing material (what I lovingly term "fanwank") in order to please an equally lazy audience. Indeed, if he had done that Beyond would've probably never come close to receiving the Hugo and Nebula nominations it did. As stated before, Pohl's ability to be a challenging writer well into his years was as much a way of defying the clichés of old age as a degree of abnormally robust physical health. He may have been getting older but he certainly never started thinking that way. 

Nuggety?: Hardly.

Hugo nominee: Dying Inside by Robert Silverberg, 1973

My view: There is no doubt as to what David Selig is in this book. He's a telepath.

He's also a complete and utter wreck of a human being because of it.

This is easily one of Robert Silverberg's darkest novels (at least of the ones I've read) because he pulls absolutely no punches about Selig's many psychological shortcomings or the supposed gift of telepathy.That "gift" has helped shaped Selig into an opportunistic, ethically void grifter who is just as incapable of any sort of real emotional connection to another human being as anyone suffering from severe Asperger syndrome or full-blown autism. He's not a particularly likable protagonist as a result, but that's the point: Silverberg's ultimate message is that taking the easy way out from real human emotional give-and-take (in short, normal human interaction) is no real gift at all - it's one of the worst curses anyone can suffer in life.

Nuggety?:  Only if you're into chewing gravel.

Hugo nominee: Bug Jack Barron by Norman Spinrad, 1970

My view: It's no surprise that this particular novel came out in 1969 and actually got things horribly right about trends in mass media decades before they became prevalent (the yapping-dog hothead as media pundit theme in BJB is especially galling to think about in this day and age); it's not even close to being a subtle novel (again, not surprising for the late 60's), but Spinrad's theme of trading your ethics in for a quick shot at "immortality" (as ersatz and disgusting as the form of it offered in this novel is) is just as frightening now as it was in '69. Even more so, since any number of more contemporary events (do not click on this link if you're concerned about spoilers) have turned out to be sickeningly true.

Nuggety?: You'd have one hell of an imagination in order to think so.

Hugo nominee: Deathworld by Harry Harrison, 1961

My view: Considering how much danger Jason dinAlt is put in in most chapters of this book by the flora and fauna of Pyruss, a description consisting of the phrase "action-packed" seems more than a bit inadequate. The action doesn't let up a whole lot (which is the point, obviously) and Deathworld is probably one of the best examples of this type of SF that I've read.

Hugo winner: The Diamond Age: Or, A Young Lady's Illustrated Primer by Neil Stephenson, 1996

My view: Phyles! Nanites! A more successful look at slice-of-life Steampunk-ish culture (albeit based in the future instead of the past) than Gibson and Sterling's The Difference Engine! Although I didn't enjoy this as much as Stephenson's Snow Crash, the plot here is a lot easier to follow than the back-and-forth past/present-jumping one he tailored for Cryptonomicon. It also has two noticeable advantages over Cryptonomicon as well, namely comparative brevity (a 400-plus page difference in length makes that abundantly clear) and an ending that doesn't feel like all the air just went out of the novel you were enjoying up until then. More than deserving of the best novel award for that year, IMHO.

Nuggety? In some alternative reality, maybe. Otherwise, no.

Hugo winner: Neuromancer by William Gibson, 1985

My view: For a book that was the first shot fired in arguably one of the biggest internal feuds over style and substance in the SF world since the New Age explosion of the late 60's, Neuromancer has more than a few problems for a book which I still consider one of my personal favorites. In my estimate, Case just isn't as interesting a protagonist as Turner was in Gibson's immediate follow-up Count Zero and Maelcum and his crew of spacefaring Rastas aren't quite as engrossing as characters as modern-day Vodou devotees Beauvoir and Lucas were in CZ, either. Then again, there's the breakneck-speed caper plot of the book, the tech that seems obscenely futuristic at times even today (and probably seemed utterly improbable to all but the most jaded SF readers when Neuromancer was first published) and side characters such as psychologically broken ex-special forces officer Armitage/Willis Corto and technologically enhanced sociopath Peter Riviera. And Molly Millions, who is anything but a mere "side character". Don't forget about her. Or else.

Nuggety? Nope. Not even close. Feel free to look up Gibson's "The Gernsback Continuum" in Burning Chrome as to why this isn't even a subject for debate.

Hugo winner: The Forever War by Joe Haldeman, 1976

My view: This is a novel that seems completely undated despite its publication back in 1974; given the post-Vietnam era politics of the time it's absurdly possible to draw parallels to that was and the unending, mainly futile conflict that William Mandella and his comrades are fighting, but it seems to be more of a meditation on the futility of all wars and what they end up doing to the common soldier. Which is why it's just as relevant now (especially now, considering how long Gulf War II and the conflict in Afghanistan have gone on) as it was in '74.

Nuggety? This is going to be a bit of a quandary. But only a bit.

Hugo winner: The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick, 1963

My view: It's not nearly as affecting to me - an old PKD fan if there ever was one - as either Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said or Ubik, but his alternate history version of a US occupied by a victorious Axis is both plausibly realized and suitably ominous, although the most important aspects of this novel (as with practically all of his work) are the disturbed inner psyches of the lead characters. It's a truism: the more deeply you read into a PKD novel, the more you get the sense that the workings of outward reality itself against those characters is the real enemy. This is a good place for a novice to start before heading off to even more challenging fare like the aforementioned novels and the likes of A Scanner Darkly, BTW.

Nuggety? Aw, c'mon. Not even close.

So. I had this funny idea, and...

Yeah, yeah, I know - funny ideas are usually the death of good ones, but not in this case; what this idea was is to look through all of the Hugo Award-winning novels I've read (mere nominees will have to follow sometime later, but I'll get around to it) in order to see how they stack up both in terms of how I remember them and how they stack up to a certain Mr. Torgersen's ideal of breakfast cereal (pretty much beaten to death here by MD Lachlan). I know I have a tendency to overwrite introductions, so without further ado here's the first victim of this experiment:

Hugo Winner: The Demolished Man by Alfred Bester (1953)

My view: It's been a good, long while since I've read this, and the one thing that's a drawback is that the dialogue even seemed dated to me when I read it in my late teens/early twenties. Then again, so what? TDM came out in 1952, which essentially means that it would seem dated in most contexts since this is over 60 years later. A fun romp of a book that can almost seem like a positively cheerful alternative version of Minority Report at times.

Nuggety? There's plenty of action, but somehow I don't think that this is quite the kind of book that Sad Puppies would go for since it has about as much to do with military SF as it does the Bolshoi Ballet.