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Really quite atrocious. If this had been a YA novel - actually, strike that, it's way too insulting to YA literature, and I don't think I've ever read one that is this immature and illogical. But to have UWW be a Hugo-award winner throws the whole award into disrepute.
The characters were little more than caricatures, both in their depiction, and in their actions; the world-building - or lack thereof - gave the reader very little to go on. A writer like Ishiguro, in Never let me go, can make lack of detail add to the overall atmosphere of tension and dread, but this was very much not the case here: instead we got a wishy-washy cardboard cut-out of some kind of dystopian Wild West (possibly, though most people seemed to live in cities, and we were not told how food, or indeed raw materials for industry, happened), in which, seemingly, the only people willing to question the status quo were LGBTQ+ and everyone else adhered quite happily to domestic abuse and dictatorship.
And I'm not sure if the pathetic Deputy Dawg cornball speech or the ridiculous start to the story annoyed me the most - the protagonist sees her lover of a year hanged, and yet a mere two days later she's making eyes at someone else. Aaah guess Aaah'm crosser than a hound dog that's done lost its rabbit (yes, the metaphors were this bad) about the whole thing.
The only saving grace of this book is that it was short. Not short enough (as in, never written), but at least it didn't steal too much of my life force. And lesson learned, I will be viewing the Hugo's with a skeptical eye from now on.