I Read William Gibson’s ‘Neuromancer’.
I admire lots of things about this writing, more than just the two I’ll mention, but these two things stand out among the rest. The first is that he wrote about this stuff before it existed, before anyone could try to lay the thought like a laminate over a foundation that had been founded. He invented the core concepts of what I now know are some of my favorite pieces of fiction and media. The Matrix. Shadowrun. Cyberpunk. These alien concepts exist because of Gibson’s vision. The second thing that really blows me away is a step in the same direction, but also the bravery to write about this stuff without the ‘fear’ of people Not Getting It. I feel like when I’m writing, I’m always following up sentences or paragraphs with the tacit interrogation: “Do you know what I mean?” For Gibson to write this outlandish and frankly confusing (even after so many things have fleshed out his ideas even further at this point) fiction, I really love that he is okay just putting it out there and letting his trust in his reader be their north star.
I’m not saying we should all be writing with the premise of “it’s fine; if they get it, they get it. If they don’t it’s not my problem.” That’s a dangerous and toxic premise. But the ability to write so broadly and boldly on a whole context without having that laid out before him is courageous in a way that I don’t believe I’ve found yet. He saw these things reflected in pristine chrome and neon and he put them to paper with a clarity he felt confident would translate to all who would listen.
To be fair, I only have a very rudimentary idea of what is happening in the story. I get the BIG PICTURE, outer layer, transactional receipt concept of it all. It’s some of the grittiness and the would-be shocking turns of loyalty and personality that feel a bit lost. I’m unsure when I’m supposed to stop accepting what’s happening as a Weird Way of the Future and when I’m supposed to be disturbed that it’s happening at all. And I think that’s a mixed bag here. On one hand, I will admit that it might be a flaw in my core competency of reading comprehension to allow a story to flow below me like a dissolving pool of water while flying over in a commercial plane. If things are going to a place that seems to lose me, I’m way more likely to continue reading and absorbing the language than I am to continue to tighten the executioner’s noose in trying to understand what’s happening. On the other hand, the world is so futuristic and confusing that I got lost in the multi-tiered realities, the drug-confusions, the double-agencies to the point where I think I needed to start to need a flow chart to keep track of a story and cast that were not that complicated.
I mention this not only as perhaps a sentiment of relief for those reading it who may be scared off by some of its disconnection, but also as sort of a big picture admission of my ability to digest and retain plot information from one passage/story to the next.
The real strength of this entire vision for me is the language that Gibson uses throughout the entire book. Not only does he have extraordinary strength in describing the desperation and neon decay of what we all will undoubtedly recognize as the basis for The Cyberpunk Aesthetic, but also in the way he writes as a whole. The way drugs splinter us, the way memory taunts us, the way our senses overfill our cups… he illustrates the worlds outside of and inside of his characters in brilliant staccato rhythm, all scent and no rose. This book has some of my favorite usage of language about things I will likely never remember. The mastery of the craft is what will stand out above all else for me.
I’ve made this remark about old science fiction heads in the past, and I will definitely mention it again. If you do decide to read this book, it is hard to ignore how male-focused this book is. There are sex scenes that manifest from nothing, romances that exist simply because a woman is near our protagonist, mentions of breasts and body parts that come frothing simply from the male author’s libido taking the cockpit for a few seconds. That can be a bit distracting if that’s something you’re sensitive to, but for me I always remind myself that it might have just been “the way things were” or something that an editor or publisher forced his hands towards. It’s not egregious and doesn’t seem overly offensive… just a bit lame, to be honest.
I do recommend this book if you’re into broken futures, somewhat ‘high-level’ science fiction, or the cyberpunk aesthetic as a whole. It’s incredible to see where it’s born and even more staggering when you remind yourself that this place didn’t exist before he made it. It’s a bit of a tough one to enjoy and ‘believe’ if you’re only looking for an action narrative, and if you strip away a lot of the inventiveness of cyberspace, it can be just another good spy novel.
