The Secret History of Science Fiction is the third Tachyon anthology edited by John Kessel and me.   It came out in the fall and has been selling fairly well, according to our publisher.  But we have taken a lot of flack for it, mostly for the introductory essay.   Here's how it starts:

In 1998, the Village Voice published an essay by Jonathan Lethem titled “Close Encounters: The Squandered Promise of Science Fiction” which begins with an alternative history in which Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow was voted the 1973 Nebula Award by the Science Fiction Writers of America. In fact, though Pynchon’s landmark work of postmodern fiction was indeed nominated for the Nebula that year, the award went to Arthur C. Clarke’s Rendezvous with Rama. Lethem called this moment “a tombstone marking the death of the hope that science fiction was about to merge with the mainstream.” 

Mariska groaned, determined not to allow her room in.  Recently she had been dreaming her own dreams of Jak and his long fingers and the fuzz on his chin and the way her throat tightened when she brushed up against him.  But this was one of her room's feeds, one of the best ones, one she had been having as long as she could remember.  In it, she was in space, but she wasn't on the moon and she wasn't wearing her hardsuit.  There were stars every way she turned.   Of course, she'd seen stars through the visor of her helmet but these were always different.  Not a scatter of light but a swarm.  And they were all were singing their names, calling to her to come to them.  She could just make out the closest ones:  Alpha Centauri.  Barnard's.  Wolf.  Lalande.  Luyten.  Sirius.

1 

I stared at my sidekick, willing it to chirp.  I'd already tried watching the door, but no one had even breathed on it.   I could’ve been writing up the Rashmi Jones case, but then I could’ve been dusting the office.  It needed dusting.  Or having a consult with Johnnie Walker, who had just that morning opened an office in the bottom drawer of my desk.  Instead, I decided to open the window.  Maybe a new case would arrive by carrier pigeon.  Or wrapped around a brick.