Author J. Michael Straczynski tells a moving story about what it meant to him to win a Hugo award. When he was young with no money, his family were constantly moving. He could not visit libraries, and so would pilfer books to read, and then return them undetected to the store. He discovered that books emblazoned with the words ‘Hugo Winner’ were the key to finding quality amongst the chaff. These were the books that he would risk all to read hidden beneath the covers at night.

Growing up, though in a more affluent setting, I also hungered for these pearls of quality. That isn’t to say I didn’t voraciously work my way through any and all libraries, but it was my father’s collection of Hugo and Nebula winners that really opened my eyes to good writing.

One thing that never ceases to amaze me is the lengths to which book stores in New Zealand will go to hide quality literature. For several years, I have tried to find copies of the five Hugo nominees for best novel as soon as they are announced. They are not stocked. They’ve never even heard of them. They look at you as if you are mad. My goal this year is to find and read at least two before the winners are announced at Anticipation in August.

One of the weird contradictions in life is that the longer and stupider hours I’m working, the more tired I get, the more time I actually have to read. Essentially because I lack the energy to cycle to work, and fall back on buses. This gives me a good uninterrupted 15 minutes each way to lose myself in. First up, a single lone copy of Stephenson’s Anathem was recently spotted in a local bookshop…