Matthew's Journal

Mickey Barnes and Timo join an expedition to the planet Niflheim, hoping to outrun a murderous loan-shark. The hapless Mickey signs up as an "Expendable", not realising this means he will have his memories uploaded to a computer and then be made to do all sorts of hazardous work, getting cloned/printed afresh every time he dies. He rapidly makes his way up to Mickey 17 before being abandoned in an ice ravine...

The expedition is led by a feeble but egotistical white supremacist whose followers (who make up a sizeable chunk of the expedition crew) wear red hats; and that is about as subtle as the politics of this film gets. It has a number of Points To Make, and it does so with some vigour.

A bunch of the plot doesn't hold up if you look at it hard ( spoilers ), and sometimes the plot was deeply predictable ( spoilers ). There were bits that were too cringey for me, but I have abnormally low tolerance for cringe.

But I think my main problem with Mickey 17 was that I didn't find myself caring about the plot very much - something about the whole thing kept breaking my suspension of disbelief, and I found myself thinking "this is a very silly movie" rather than getting caught up in what was happening. Possibly because too many of the characters' choices seemed inexplicable? Anyhow, my least liked of the Hugo films this year so far (and there's only 1 left).

The introduction to Sinners tells us that various folk traditions (including the Choctaw) hold that some people are born with the ability to make music so true that it pierces the veil between life and death, conjuring spirits from the past and future; whilst it can bring healing, it can also attract evil. For the first half or so of the film, we are left unclear if this is a metaphor about the power of music or to be understood as a supernatural phenomenon.( mild spoilers, nothing the trailer won't show you )

Music is certainly central to Sinners, and I particularly liked how the different strands of music from different backgrounds were woven together; and the juke joint scene that has done the rounds on the internet is indeed a fine moment. I'm not sure the Choctaw elements were quite fully fleshed out, and some of the characters were maybe under-developed, but it's still a very enjoyable story.

There have been a number of magic school books in recent years; in The Incandescent, we largely follow events at Chetwood School through the eyes of Dr Walden, Director of Magic. She is an expert magician, and clearly an effective teacher, if a little weak on the pastoral front. And the fact that she is back as a staff member at what was once her own secondary school is definitely not a sign that's she's not moved on from what happened when she was a student there...

I enjoyed the way magic was woven into an English boarding school, and how nicely Tesh captures (and satirizes) the nature of institutional life. I like a competent protagonist, too, and Dr Walden is very competent, and pleasingly keen on the merits of education. I almost (but not quite) always understood the choices she was making. The plot works well, and throws up some surprises, but comes together pretty well in the end; although the motivation for Mark's behaviour is never really explained (nor is why we the readers are more aware of the red flags than Dr Walden is). I also appreciated the exploration of the ethics of demons and how magicians interact with them.

I enjoyed this a lot.

This is the first of a trilogy, set in Orrun, a fantasy world where people tend to associate with one of 8 (demi-)gods, one of which is the Raven. We see much (but not all) of the action through the eyes of Neema, the Raven Scholar of the title. Hodgson has written murder mysteries before, and it's not entirely surprising then that Neema ends up tasked with investigating a murder.

It's not, though, primarily a murder mystery - that's just one of the things that's driving a pretty twisty plot; and while I spotted some of the plot points coming, it's a cleverly written book that keeps you guessing and only a couple of times did the plot twist feel entirely like it was "cheating". There's a range of interesting characters (although some of them didn't get fleshed out enough to really make an impression), although not all of their behaviour entirely makes sense with hindsight. Without spoiling anything, events of the first part made me reluctant to invest in some of the primary characters in the subsequent book.

Being the first of a trilogy, it ends rather in the middle of things, which is a bit disappointing (if unsurprising). While I enjoyed it, I don't think I'll be seeking out the second book until the trilogy is completed.

The announcement of the 2026 Hugo shortlist reminded me I never posted about how I voted for the 2025 awards. I'm afraid it's now too late to add any reviews beyond what I wrote at the time, but here is how I ranked the finalists (the winning entry in bold):

Best Novel

1. The Tainted Cup
2. A Sorceress Comes to Call
3. Someone You Can Build a Nest In
4. The Ministry of Time
5. Alien Clay
6. Service Model

Best Novella

1. The Practice, the Horizon, and the Chain
2. The Butcher of the Forest
3. The Tusks of Extinction
4. What Feasts at Night
5. The Brides of High Hill
6. Navigational Entanglements

Best Novelette

1. The Four Sisters Overlooking the Sea
2. By Salt, By Sea, By Light of Stars
3. Loneliness Universe
4. Lake of Souls
5. Signs of Life
6. The Brotherhood of Montague St. Video

Best Short Story

1. Stitched to Skin Like Family Is
2. Marginalia
3. Why Don't We Just Kill the Kid in the Omelas Hole
4. We Will Teach You How to Read | We Will Teach You How to Read
5. Three Faces of a Beheading
6. Five Views of the Planet Tartarus

Three books I've read recently. First is A Drop of Corruption, the sequel to The Tainted Cup, which I really liked. I also really enjoyed A Drop of Corruption; like the previous book it's a great page-turner with a twisty mystery plot, with a well-drawn world and some interesting themes (particularly around governance and social institutions). Recommended, but read The Tainted Cup first. Eligible for the 2026 Hugos, I think.

Second, I've had A Half-Built Garden on my Kobo for a while, and finally got round to reading it. It's a near-future first contact novel, although for the aliens its not their first contact. There's a lot here about how we treat our environment and govern ourselves, as well as how we've used sci-fi to imagine alternative futures. I thought this book rewarded having long periods of time to approach it in; it needs thoughtful reading.

Finally, Nordic Visions, subtitled "The best of Nordic speculative fiction", edited by Margrét Helgadóttir. A selection of short stories from (in order) Sweden, Denmark, The Faroe Islands, Iceland, Norway, and Finland. These stories are mostly from the horror/fantasy part of speculative fiction, and some of the horror is pretty dark. As with any such selection, it's a bit of a mixed bag, but there are some very strong stories in here; I think the opening She was particularly effective, and I enjoyed the Kalevala story The Wings that Slice the Sky.

The second chapter of our book group book (Rowan Williams' Being Human) is "What is a person?"

He starts by paraphrasing a slightly obscure[0] essay by Vladimir Lossky, who, he says, declares that we lack good vocabulary to distinguish between something that is simply one unique instance of its kind, and the quality (whatever it is) that makes a conscious thing of this kind irreducible to its nature.

The point he's making, I think, is that there is something more to being a person than simply being an example of a kind of thing. He's saying that there is something about us as a whole that isn't captured simply by listing facts that happen to be true about us. He then quotes Lossky at more length:

Under these conditions, it will be impossible for us to form a concept of the human person, and we will have to content ourselves with saying: “person” signifies the irreducibility of man to his nature— “irreducibility” and not “something irreducible” or “something which makes man irreducible to his nature” precisely because it cannot be a question here of “something” distinct from “another nature” but of someone who is distinct from his own nature, of someone who goes beyond his nature while still containing it, who makes it exist as human nature by this overstepping [of it].

Williams then goes on to talk about how people are shaped by the web of relationships they are part of and influence "A person, in other words, is the point at which relationships intersect, where a difference may be made and new relations created." He asserts that this (at least to Christians) is a mystery that applies to each and every human individual, and that from this it follows that the same kind of reverence or attention is due to all of them (regardless of any of the features of people that result in their marginalisation).

This is all well and good, and I'm sympathetic to the desire to avoid the "meet this set of criteria to be a person" approach that can come out of debates as to what it means to be a person. And from a Christian point of view, the idea that all people are first of all in relation to God before they are in relation to anyone or anything else; and thus that we must bear that in mind in all our doings with other people is useful (and very traditional).

But it doesn't seem to me to be actually answering the question of "What is a person?" Rather like the idea (I think from Zen & the art of motorcycle maintenance) that everyone knows what "quality" is, but most people would struggle to define it; fine for the day-to-day, but not a very satisfactory answer to the question posed. Williams at least half admits this, saying later in the chapter that it's only a theological perspective that makes sense of the idea of personhood "But what I'm really suggesting is that when it comes to personal reality the language of theology is possibly the only way to speak well of our sense of who we are and what our humanity is like — to speak well of ourselves as expecting relationship, as expecting difference, as expecting death [...]" But how to talk about personhood to people who reject any sort of theological worldview?

Williams notes that Science Fiction has from time to time looked at this question of personhood - when encountering an alien or a cyborg, how do you decide to accord the status of person to this other being? He concludes that the answer is that "At the end of the day, we can say this is something we could discover only by taking time and seeing if a relationship could be built." That still seems unsatisfactory to me, not least in the age of generative AI systems[1] that produce plausible-sounding answers to any question and with whom at least some people seem to convince themselves they've had a relationship.

Is there a useful way of answering the question "What is a person?" without relying on a theological worldview or having the sort of argument that concludes that some humans are less people than others?

[0] e.g. the WP article doesn't mention it at all. But then Williams did his thesis on Lossky. The article "The Theological Notion of the Human Person" is online
[1] which are stochastic models of "what would an answer to this question likely sound like", and I am axiomatically going to declare as neither conscious nor persons

This is the last of this year's Hugo Award shortlist for dramatic presentation long form. It's very strange. Owen and Maddy are disaffected teenagers who bond over their obsession with The Pink Opaque. How much of it is warping their perception of reality or actually warping reality is left unanswered; the whole film proceeds at a very slow pace, and that plus the occasional breaking of the fourth wall give it a dreamlike or nightmareish quality. I think it is talking about fandom, queerness, and gender, but I didn't really get it. And the end was a damp squib.

I didn't vote in this category, but if I had I think I would have ranked Flow first; it came second behind Dune.

It's past the voting deadline, and I didn't vote in the dramatic presentation long form category, but I'm still trying to watch the shortlisted films.

I'd not seen Dune part one, so watched that and then part two (which was on the shortlist this year). It's one book turned into two lengthy films, and part two has a rubbish ending - we get no sense of Paul becoming Emperor as any kind of triumph before it's undermined by the immediate start of the next war. They are both grand spectacles, but their pacing is odd - at times it seems to be dragging and then key events are rather rushed over (so you're left not really quite understanding what happened without resorting to plot summaries after the fact). And the racial politics have dated poorly, shall we say? And I don't think the whole sandworm ecosystem is even vaguely plausible. But there's some great scheming and some interesting characters (albeit that a lot of the villains are entirely 2-dimensional).

The Wild Robot is an altogether different film, very heavy-handed with its messaging and happy to tug on the heart-strings. The plot doesn't really stand up to scrutiny (robot has access to all human knowledge, but doesn't know how geese swim? etc.), but it's well-animated and has lots of fun moments. And despite being the film of the first book of a trilogy, it actually has a decent ending! But I really struggled to suspend my disbelief because the plot is so full of holes.

It's time to vote for the next Chancellor (previously); I've looked at the candidates and their statements, but still don't have an obvious-to-me choice of who to vote for.

When I asked on mastodon, I got two responses (one for Sandi Toksvig, one for her or Gina Miller); FB has shown me one friend saying that Chris Smith is "a nice bloke, but also the only candidate worth of the role"; and I've been sent this from someone who evidently doesn't share my general political view (though I'm inclined to agree that being the author of tuition fees probably rules John Browne out).

I can see why people might think Wyn Evans is a good option, but his proposals seem to me more the sort of thing you'd expect the vice-chancellor to do, rather than the chancellor who is not really involved in the running of the university directly.

I'm currently inclined to put Sandi Toksvig first; I'm sure she'd be great at the schmoozing-major-donors thing, but also at engaging with staff & students and advocating for the University.

I'm planning to vote in person on Saturday...

[this post is public, I am screening comments by anyone not already on my DW access list, will unscreen if I think they're making a useful contribution]