In late August your intrepid FF writer paused in his holy war against the term 'sci-fi', and made a pilgrimage to the barbarous shores of our former colony, the USA. The occasion was Noreascon, the 38th World SF Convention, held in Boston. Guests of honour were Kate Wilhelm and Damon Knight, who as you doubtless know are husband and wife (not necessarily in that order); Knight, despite his awesome reputation and patriarchal beard, has an alarming habit of launching total war with a squirt-gun at late-night convention parties....
Noreascon was big. In Britain we considered this year's Glasgow Easter Convention to be Quite Large, with around 700 members, and last year's Seacon to be Bloody Huge, with something like 3000. Noreascon had 5447 members registered before the official opening. By the end, 8000 people were members and about 6000 had attended; the convention committee glumly noted that they'd received 13,900 pieces of mail since they'd started. Of the aforesaid room parties, I need only mention that two tons of ice were imported into the hotel on the Saturday night to satisfy strange US longings for chilled beer (mind you, after letting some of said beer warm up to properly British temperature, I could see why they prefer to freeze out the taste). Most of the time, eight or nine programmes would be running simultaneously in auditoria and film-theatres of various sizes, right down to the room suitable for an audience of 25 where I found myself on an 'International Fandom' panel. Even the traditional book-dealers' room at this monster was the size of two football pitches – though over there they don't say 'book-dealer', preferring the sleazy-sounding 'huckster', and indeed the few books on sale were lost in heaps of Star Wars T-shirts, fantasy games, unicorn-shaped jewellery, plastic spaceships, Gandalf candles, stuffed tribbles, wooden dragons, Spock badges, cuddly Alien dolls for the kiddies – all the things which (unlike books) make big money these days.
Probably the best-attended event was the Hugo ceremony: long and exhausting. These days there is no question of simply handing over the awards. First the toastmaster (here Robert Silverberg) warms up the audience for nearly an hour, not omitting to make his Harlan Ellison circumcision joke. Vast applause at each mention of a Famous Name; even reflexive clapping at the announcement (see last issue) that George Pal is dead, which seems a mite cruel. 6000 people squashed into the auditorium are becoming restive; at last the important stuff begins, each award being presented by another celebrity who's introduced by Silverberg and then makes a little speech of his or her own before opening the fatal envelope. The Hugos stand on a table, a row of pretty rocketships. But it's not yet time for them; several other things are presented first. Something we have never heard of, called the Pat Terry Award for Humour in SF, goes to Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The Gandalf Award for Grandmaster of Fantasy, a lifetime-achievement award and thus pernicious since sooner or later you run out of worthy recipients ... is missing. On to the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, which goes to Barry B. Longyear – more of him in a moment. (Note that this award is not to be confused with the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, which is a best-novel award and this year went to a worthy winner, Thomas Disch's On Wings of Song. Disch will attend the British Eastercon next year – see last issue – as American Guest of Honour in addition to Ian Watson as British GoH). At last, the Hugos! The Fanartist Hugo is won by Alexis Gilliland, who accepts by reading out slips from Chinese fortune cookies which had predicted his success. Bob Shaw wins as Fanwriter; as a failed nominee I stifle my cries of rage and envy. Suddenly the Gandalf materializes and is awarded to Ray Bradbury. The Fanzine Hugo goes to the 'newspaper of the SF field', Locus.
Tension mounts. There is a feeling in the air of 'now the rubbish is out of the way – now for the real, professional Hugos', Best Professional Artist is Michael Whelan; Dramatic Presentation, Alien; Non-Fiction goes to The Encyclopaedia of SF ed. Peter Nicholls. Cheers from the British contingent. Best Editor: George Scithers of Isaac Asimov's. Hoots and groans from the British contingent. The Short Story Hugo is presented by Harlan Ellison, who modestly begins "The short story, as we all know, is the single most difficult form of writing." Winner is George R.R. Martin's 'The Way of Cross and Dragon'. Novelette: 'Sandkings' by George R.R. Martin – who only last night had welcomed me into the Hugo Losers' Club and now must be expelled, twice. Novella: 'Enemy Mine' by Barry B. Longyear. (This was the story of which millions of free copies were sent out to Science Fiction Writers of America members, to persuade them to vote it a Nebula award. It worked: and having got a Nebula doesn't half help towards getting a Hugo.)
I found myself speculating. The Novelette award (fiction 7500-17,000 words long) had been presented by guest of honour Kate Wilhelm; the Novella award (17,500-40,000 words) was presented by other GoH Damon Knight. Who, at their own convention, could be set above them to get the plum spot of the Novel presentation? Ah, I thought, they will make the presentation jointly. But no: in orgies of applause and popping flashbulbs, wittily pinching the bottoms of any (female) attendants who strayed too close, on came jolly old Isaac Asimov to announce that the Novel Hugo had gone to his pal Arthur C. Clarke, for The Fountains of Paradise.
This was lucky for the Australian branch of Pan Books (Clarke's paperback publishers): the July/August Australian SF News, printed long before the Hugo ceremony, has a full-page advert for Fountains which is captioned THE HUGO NOMINATIONS 1980: BEST NOVEL WINNER. Readers are left to wonder whether this indicates psychic ability among publishers, or sharp practice in claiming a Hugo win on the strength of a nomination, or was merely intended to record the fact of the nomination (but how come 'winner' ...?) – or whether, perhaps, the book's listing in first place on the nomination slate fooled some Pan employee who knows not the mysteries of alphabetical order.
Already the cognoscenti were speculating on next year's Hugo slate, and Larry Niven was heard to mutter that competition is so strong that merely to be nominated in 1981 will be a colossal honour, rivalling that of winning in a lesser year. You may suspect from this that he feels sure of being nominated but less certain of victory.... Hot tips for 1981 Novel nominations, for Hugos to be presented in Denver that year, are: Lord Valentine's Castle (Robert Silverberg), The Magic Labyrinth (Philip Jose Farmer), The Number of The Beast (Robert Heinlein), The Ringworld Engineers (Larry Niven) and The Snow Queen (Joan D. Vinge), The middle three, though long-awaited, are disappointing books; probably the Vinge and the Silverberg are best, which doesn't mean that either will necessarily win.
More snippets. I met Harlan Ellison, I really did! I was standing chatting in this wide corridor when from many yards off friendly Harlan cried "Stop blocking the goddam hallway, you fucking Limeys!" I shall never wash that eardrum again.
Chicago ('Chicon IV') was voted the right to hold the 1982 Worldcon, and I'll tell you the address as soon as they appoint a British agent.... Future Worldcons are already causing contention. Baltimore, Copenhagen and Australia are all bidding for 1983, Los Angeles (possibly two rival LA bids!) for '84, Madison for '85, New York and Philadelphia for '86, and Boston is laying plans for a comeback in '89. In each case the vote takes place two years before the convention. No new British bid has yet emerged.... Airfares are now so relatively cheap that perhaps 30 UK fans attended Noreascon – an all-time record. The only one of our pro writers I spotted was ever-lovable, Hugo-losing Christ Priest, who struggled to keep a straight face as he announced "Barry B. Longyear is my favourite writer." (Longyear must be jolly good, since he says he made $70,000 in his first year and a half of writing. In my first year I made £13.30p.) ... James Baen has left his editorial post at Ace books; Ted White has been dismissed as Heavy Metal editor; the magazines Amazing and Fantastic have merged; two publishers of large, illustrated SF material have gone into liquidation, Phin and Big O.... Boston's local pressmen, just as in Britain, treated Noreascon with calculated reverence. For example, a Boston Sunday Globe piece began "'Pardon me,' said the Hobbit as he stopped the well-dressed matron on her way down the stairs [of the Sheraton-Boston Hotel], 'but is this the way to Middle Earth?'". You can imagine the rest for yourself, if your imagination has a sufficiently strong stomach. The Globe also managed to misspell 'Isaac Asimov' and to find a costumed fan who "described the convention in a word: 'Wow!'". Another blow to respectable SF.
I missed a few things while in America, such as Arthur Clarke's Omni lecture (in London) on space elevators. I was glad to miss various Perry Rhodan conventions on the continent; at these events, it seems, the traditional convention auctions include such things as the right to have a character named after you in the endless Rhodan series. Going rates are £40 to be featured in one volume, £60 for three; when your time runs out 'you' get killed off. I assure you all, dear readers, that a mention in Fission Fragments comes a good deal cheaper than that. Make me an offer – and in any case send your news and comments to me c/o AD ASTRA.
Normal service will be resumed in the next column.