By Adam Roberts | March 18, 2009
Sometimes things don't go so well. Yesterday my bike was stolen (the sort of thing that happened all the time when I lived in London, but which is something of a shock after six hitherto biketheft-free years of living in Staines). Today it seems that my car has died: unsurprisingly, since it's a banger, but still. And this afternoon I discover not only that Swiftly has not been shortlisted for the Clarke, but that Graham Sleight, a critic whose opinions I respect enormously, doesn't consider it a book he or anybody else might even have expected to see on the shortlist. [Update, 19.3: I spoke too soon, as you'll see if you click the link] So it goes, of course, howsoever disheartening. I get the sense that the stuff I'm interested in and value, SF-wise, really aren't the things SF as a whole considers interesting or valuable. The wisdom of crowds, and okham's razor, suggests that SF as a whole may be in the right. Ho hum.No tags for this post.