There are two John W. Campbell awards: the one for new writers and the one for best novel. The nominees for the latter have just been announced, and as usual, there is a controversy.
The very first Campbell award went to Barry Malzberg's Beyond Apollo, an excellent novel that was also an attack on everything John W. Campbell stood for. Since then, we have gotten away from the idea that the award should go to the book Campbell would have liked least, but trying to give an award for literary excellence that honors Campbell's memory is like trying to line people up alphabetically by height: The goals aren't quite contradictory, but you can't do both at the same time. The award has veered back and forth; a few years ago, they had an inspiring nominee list, all of which were literarily interesting except for the Ben Bova book, which won.
This year Margaret Atwood is on the list. Many sf people object because she made some statements apparently distancing what she writes from that nasty science fiction stuff. That doesn't bother me; sf has long since become established enough that we don't have to resent our closet cases.
My objection to Atwood is that she's a Nuffer. Like Bill McKibben (from whose book Enough I stole the term), Jeremy Rifkin, Leon Kass, Francis Fukuyama, et al., she believes that she is the Crown of Creation, that humanity as represented by her is as good as it gets. I have a more modest self-image: I think that the missing link between the apes and civilized humanity is Us (definitely including me).
OK, I admit it: I'm a religious fanatic, of the Post-Humanist faith. I think that humanity should become as gods or die trying, because the alternative is to die without trying. I don't think that being or being trapped in (I am also ontologically incorrect, drawing the mind/body distinction) doomed, raging, demanding meat is Enough. And while I am nowhere near silly enough to confuse acceptance of this view with literary excellence, I want to define science fiction as my kind of stuff, with the Nuffers outside the tent.
ETA:...as John W. Campbell would have.
The very first Campbell award went to Barry Malzberg's Beyond Apollo, an excellent novel that was also an attack on everything John W. Campbell stood for. Since then, we have gotten away from the idea that the award should go to the book Campbell would have liked least, but trying to give an award for literary excellence that honors Campbell's memory is like trying to line people up alphabetically by height: The goals aren't quite contradictory, but you can't do both at the same time. The award has veered back and forth; a few years ago, they had an inspiring nominee list, all of which were literarily interesting except for the Ben Bova book, which won.
This year Margaret Atwood is on the list. Many sf people object because she made some statements apparently distancing what she writes from that nasty science fiction stuff. That doesn't bother me; sf has long since become established enough that we don't have to resent our closet cases.
My objection to Atwood is that she's a Nuffer. Like Bill McKibben (from whose book Enough I stole the term), Jeremy Rifkin, Leon Kass, Francis Fukuyama, et al., she believes that she is the Crown of Creation, that humanity as represented by her is as good as it gets. I have a more modest self-image: I think that the missing link between the apes and civilized humanity is Us (definitely including me).
OK, I admit it: I'm a religious fanatic, of the Post-Humanist faith. I think that humanity should become as gods or die trying, because the alternative is to die without trying. I don't think that being or being trapped in (I am also ontologically incorrect, drawing the mind/body distinction) doomed, raging, demanding meat is Enough. And while I am nowhere near silly enough to confuse acceptance of this view with literary excellence, I want to define science fiction as my kind of stuff, with the Nuffers outside the tent.
ETA:...as John W. Campbell would have.