Asking the Wrong Questions

Cover design for Unfinished Tales (1980) by J.R.R. Tolkien The problems that confront one given responsibility for the writings of a dead author are hard to resolve. Some persons in this position may elect to make no material whatsoever available for publication, save perhaps for work that was in a virtually finished state at the time of the author's death. In the case of the unpublished writings of J.R.R. Tolkien this might seem at first sight the proper course, since he himself, peculiarly critical and exacting of his own work, would not have dreamt of allowing even the more completed narratives in this book to appear without much further refinement. There comes a point in the lifecycle of every sufficiently successful story in which it becomes an IP. At that point, there are two stories rather than one: there is the story itself, and the story about how it became that story. The fruitful collaborations, necessary compromises, backstage drama, and financial shenanigans that all c...

There are tropes that have been around for so long, and become so codified within pop culture, that they hardly feel like science fiction anymore. Within that group, the time loop surely has pride of place. Its original popularizer, 1993's Groundhog Day , resonated more with Buddhist philosophy than any specific genre writers, and in the intervening decades the time loop has showed up in everything from cop shows to romantic comedies. So when I heard that a time loop story had been shortlisted for the International Booker Prize , I was surprised but not flabbergasted. There's already so much slippage between science fiction and mainstream fiction these days—so much that we're inventing terms like "imprint SF" to try to articulate how different publishers and training paths affect the materials being published—that the real surprise was not a mainstream-published time loop story, but the fact that it was considered sufficiently literary to attract the Booker's ...

"Argonath" by Naci Caba 'Begging your pardon,' said Sam. 'I don't think you understand my master at all. He isn't hesitating about which way to go. Of course not! What's the good of Minas Tirith anyway? To him, I mean ... he knows he's got to find the Cracks of Doom, if he can. But he's afraid. Now it's come to the point, he's just plain terrified.' At long last, we have arrived at the end of The Fellowship of the Ring . And indeed, the end of the fellowship. As the travelers make their way down the river Anduin, the question of their next steps looms ever more urgently. Should they return with Boromir to Minas Tirith, to either regroup before the journey to Mordor or remain there for the duration of the war? Or should they proceed directly into Mordor, and attempt to seek out Mount Doom? Before we get to this question, there is yet another phase change in the landscape the story moves through. Up until now, our heroes have traveled...

It seems that my life recently has been revolving around literary awards. The deadline to vote for the Hugo is in a few hours, I wrote a very scathing review of this year's winner of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction, and I've been named as a juror for next year's Otherwise Award. It's only fitting, therefore, that I guest on this week's episode of Critical Friends , the Strange Horizons SFF criticism podcast, to talk about the purpose, effect, and nature of literary awards. Host Dan Hartland invited myself, in the wake of my review of Daniel Kraus's Angel Down , and Amritesh Mukherjee, whose review of Tashan Mehta's Mad Sisters of Esi just preceded the book being named on the shortlist of the Ursula K. Le Guin Award, to discuss the thorny subject. Dan Hartland: Yeah, and of course there have been quite a number of award-based controversies in recent years. And it's interesting to wonder how much of that is an increasing democratization of who's...

Being on an award jury has been a dream of mine for years. I suppose it's only to be expected; I spend so much time telling people which books they should or should not read, that naturally I would leap at the opportunity to do so with the imprimatur of an award behind me. This year, I finally got my wish, and was invited to be a member of the jury for the 2026 Otherwise Award . Over the next few months, I and the other members of the jury will be reading books, stories, and other works published in 2026, with the award list and honor list to be announced in the spring of next year. Formerly known as the Tiptree award, the Otherwise seeks to recognize works that expand and explore the definition of gender, a topic on which science fiction has always had a great deal to say, and all the more so in the 21st century. Members of the jury may request and recommend works for consideration, but so can members of the public. If you've read something that you think I and the other juror...

My June 2026 Locus column had a bit of an informal theme of considering the influence—acknowledged and unacknowledged—on the works under review. Plastic, Prism, Void , which I discussed earlier this month, was reviewed though the lens of how it fit—and defied—the category of romantasy. My two other reviews, both published online in the last week, are of works that seem to draw inspiration from more specific sources. Andrew Dana Hudson's debut Absence feels like a mashup of The X-Files , The Leftovers , and the MCU's "blip" arc. It imagines a world in which people disappear at random and with no apparent explanation, and follows two government agents who travel to a small town to investigate a woman who claims to be the first person to have returned from such a disappearance. Hudson takes these inspirations and makes them his own, but he also uses their fusion to craft a touching reflection on the recent pandemic and how it affected both institutions and indivisuals....