Second paragraph of third chapter:

Langrice had shrugged. “Magister.” Speaking Pel easily because running the Anchorage meant you needed to be good with languages. “No Ilmari will work for me. It’s bad luck. Only the desperate will even come buy a drink from me. Or those who need to leave Ilmar the least convenient way.” She’d shaken her head ruefully, as though she’d give up the Anchorage and its trade in a moment if only there was someone else. “They won’t even take my money from my hands. I have to send my staff to market, or else pay some middleman. So why, exactly, would I not work with you Palleseen?”

Won the BSFA Award for Best Novel two years ago, against The Coral Bones by E.J. Swift and The Red Scholar’s Wake by Aliette de Bodard, both of which we shortlisted for the Clarke Award that year, and Stars and Bones by Gareth L. Powell and The This by Adam Roberts, which we didn’t. City of Last Chances was also submitted for the Clarke, but is pretty clearly fantasy rather than sf, so I put it on one side for later. (To remind you: we gave the Clarke to Venomous Lumpsucker, the Nebula went to Babel and the Hugo, officially at least, to Nettle & Bone.)

I don’t think I voted in this category, and if I had a vote now I’d vote for The Coral Bones and The Red Scholar’s Wake ahead of City of Last Chances, but this is nonetheless a very good book, set in a fantasy city which has recently been occupied by invaders, where the various ancient civic institutions, including the magical ones, continue to function despite the change of rules, and further potential social ferment is brewing. There is a particularly effective twist in the middle, and a slightly discarded deity who attaches himself to one of the main protagonists. It is, er, a bit long at 496 pages. You can get it here.

I’ve run out of Tiptree and Clarke winners to read, so there are only two left in this sequence which I started with Brian Aldiss’s Non-Stop back in 2012; a twelve and a half year reading project comes to an end. I think I’ll replace it with a project of reading a book by every winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature who was not a white man; there are 29 of them by my count. It’s good to have a target.