As a female science fiction writer, feminist and a member of this year's judging panel for the Clarke Awards, I find myself in the interesting position of defending our choice of an all-male list. I'll start by saying that this was an outstanding year for submissions – 82 books in total, with some exceptional writing from authors of both genders from a variety of cultural backgrounds.
Much of this was quite some way into the "fantasy" bracket, but of the more SF-facing work, we found ourselves looking at a field dominated by big ideas, near – and far – future explorations of the solar system, and some very sharp takes on government intrusion into social affairs. I think the shortlist reflects the best of these three "themes" for 2012, demonstrating a return to both the "sensawunda" and to the critical thought that so many complain is lacking from contemporary SF.
As a feminist, I am opposed to including women writers in shortlists just because they are female: the work has got to hold its own in its field: we can discuss whether that field is a level one or not, but when you're judging a work, you're obliged to deal with what you've got, and to me, that means regardless of any ideological criteria.
This leads us into the wider conversation as to why, despite having a significantly enlarged entry this year (a 36 per cent increase on the 60 books submitted in 2012) we received disproportionately fewer from women, of which many were technically fantasy. We do not have to go far to look for the answer: over the last few years, the publishing industry in both Britain and the US (but particularly in the former) has been commissioning fewer and fewer SF novels by women. The running gag for some years now has been that the industry has had a Highlander approach to women who write SF: there can be only one, at least on contract.
Is this because women don't write SF? Patently not. Genre workshops are full of women writing all forms of the genre. As a freelance editor and writing mentor, I have seen what I regard as exceptional science fiction produced by women. But this doesn't seem to make it into pro publishing, and when it does, it tends to be reviewed in more negative terms than SF produced by men.
I am not, however, of the view that the industry is rife with sexism – at least not on an individual basis (the wider cultural context might be another issue). When I started writing, I was asked by at least two male editors to publish under my full name, not my initials (which I'd hoped to do due to having such a boring name), purely because of the issue of the visibility of women in SF. Throughout my career, I have had significant support from editors of both sexes, and from my peers. So this issue of publication and visibility is not a personal gripe: it's an observation about a disconnect between the work that women are doing, and its reflection in the wider arena of the industry. After all, women have been involved in the genre from its early days, ever since Margaret Cavendish published The Blazing World in 1666, through Clare Winger Harris and Gertrude Barrows Bennett in the 1920s and onwards (and if you've never heard of these writers, ask yourself why not, and you'll start appreciating the core of the problem).
This has been a catch-22 for female genre writers for a long time: as my fellow judge Juliet E McKenna points out, the lack of visibility and discoverability of female writers "perpetuates the misconception that women can't write SF – for people who don't understand that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence". As Juliet also says, changes in bookselling are a factor too: new releases have a very short commercial shelf life. The average chain bookseller puts them on the shelves for a handful of weeks: if they don't sell, they're returned – but bookshop browsing in retail outlets for new releases is now skewed to front-of-house promotions. These are biased towards "safe bets which then become self-fulfilling prophecies: such as 'female SF doesn't sell, so we won't include that' – which guarantees it doesn't sell." This may even go on to affect submissions to publishers … Are women writers, in fact, caught up in an enormous feedback loop of diminished expectation?
This, in turn, feeds us into the much wider, and much-discussed, issue of the changing nature of publishing itself. There's a general view that the mainstream publishers are increasingly concentrating on big names – but that's not to decry the quality of those names. I would argue that the work of quite a lot of white male writers is outstanding, and I believe that to be reflected in the Clarke shortlist this year.