I think I got hooked on books again. It started on the way to the US - I took William Gibson's Spook Country with me, just in case there was absolutely nothing to do on the plane. That I even had it in the first place was a small marvel in itself. I'd already resigned myself to my loss of literacy and simply stopped buying books, but it was only 25PLN, and I had such fond memories of Neuromancer...
Anyway, the book itself isn't exactly life-changing, but it has this instant accessibility - you get gently pulled into it from page one, and experience the same immediacy whenever you pick it up. It also seemed to provide me with a sense of stability (even though the main characters are constantly on the move* - I guess it's easier to cope with imaginary displacement). I always had this handy reference point, whether I was waiting for Ana at the Mall of America, or stuck in traffic entering New York City.
As for the plot, Spook Country takes place in the present, and is something of a spy thriller. Except, true to Gibson's cyberpunk pedigree, most of the spies aren't affiliated with any form of centralized government, and there's also a near-omnipotent, irrational, corporate presence. It also flirts with things like the nature of celebrity (and its data-preserving powers), the future of art, or Where The Hell Are Our VR Goggles - but these serve as ornaments rather than foundation.
It reminded me of some of the esthetic pleasures of reading. I liked some of his turns of phrase, like "Outside, wind found the windows from a different angle" or "Dawn was well under way, lots of it". Or how he somehow made an English-speaking French character sound French without using some weird accent transcription (I think the key was having her use the word "disconsolate"). But the thing that really stuck with me is how he made it seem like what you're reading is just a snapshot, and the fact that you close the book doesn't mean the people therin won't keep on doing their thing. Obviously, I know shit about literature, but the books I have read always seemed very self-contained and efficient, every plot point contributing to the greater whole, every detail a foreshadowing en route to revelation. Meanwhile, throughout Spook Country I found several threads that weren't neatly tucked in anywhere at all. It was always the tiniest of details: an extra sentence here, a small paragraph there... Almost subliminal in their subtlety, and never drawing your attention away from the main plot, but nevertheless succeeding in making the characters feel totally real. Like the story was merely something that happened to them, as opposed to them being a set of narrative tools used to tell a story. Unfortunately, I don't think I can make myself any clearer, and the only passage I marked at the time probably won't be much help either, but it at least gives you a sense of this non-sequiturial vibe (it's the end of a chapter):
"Milgrim nodded. Got up. He wasn't going to run, but for the first time, he thought Brown might be bluffing.
In the washroom he ran cool water over his wrists, then looked at his hands. They were still his. He wiggled his fingers. Amazing, really."
I remember Stephenson achieving a slightly similar effect in... Snow Crash, I think, except he made his world - not his characters - seem like something too big for the book to contain by hinting at certain, intriguing details only to return to the main plot a moment after, leaving you high and dry.
And now I'm on to Secrets of the Gotha, which reads like a tabloid adhering to the rules of the Spanish court protocol, so expect lots of random and absurd quotes about 19th century European royals in the near future.
* their route even mirrored ours to a certain extent, as they travelled from New York to D.C.. Eventually, they ended up in Vancouver, which I intend to treat as a portent.
Anyway, the book itself isn't exactly life-changing, but it has this instant accessibility - you get gently pulled into it from page one, and experience the same immediacy whenever you pick it up. It also seemed to provide me with a sense of stability (even though the main characters are constantly on the move* - I guess it's easier to cope with imaginary displacement). I always had this handy reference point, whether I was waiting for Ana at the Mall of America, or stuck in traffic entering New York City.
As for the plot, Spook Country takes place in the present, and is something of a spy thriller. Except, true to Gibson's cyberpunk pedigree, most of the spies aren't affiliated with any form of centralized government, and there's also a near-omnipotent, irrational, corporate presence. It also flirts with things like the nature of celebrity (and its data-preserving powers), the future of art, or Where The Hell Are Our VR Goggles - but these serve as ornaments rather than foundation.
It reminded me of some of the esthetic pleasures of reading. I liked some of his turns of phrase, like "Outside, wind found the windows from a different angle" or "Dawn was well under way, lots of it". Or how he somehow made an English-speaking French character sound French without using some weird accent transcription (I think the key was having her use the word "disconsolate"). But the thing that really stuck with me is how he made it seem like what you're reading is just a snapshot, and the fact that you close the book doesn't mean the people therin won't keep on doing their thing. Obviously, I know shit about literature, but the books I have read always seemed very self-contained and efficient, every plot point contributing to the greater whole, every detail a foreshadowing en route to revelation. Meanwhile, throughout Spook Country I found several threads that weren't neatly tucked in anywhere at all. It was always the tiniest of details: an extra sentence here, a small paragraph there... Almost subliminal in their subtlety, and never drawing your attention away from the main plot, but nevertheless succeeding in making the characters feel totally real. Like the story was merely something that happened to them, as opposed to them being a set of narrative tools used to tell a story. Unfortunately, I don't think I can make myself any clearer, and the only passage I marked at the time probably won't be much help either, but it at least gives you a sense of this non-sequiturial vibe (it's the end of a chapter):
"Milgrim nodded. Got up. He wasn't going to run, but for the first time, he thought Brown might be bluffing.
In the washroom he ran cool water over his wrists, then looked at his hands. They were still his. He wiggled his fingers. Amazing, really."
I remember Stephenson achieving a slightly similar effect in... Snow Crash, I think, except he made his world - not his characters - seem like something too big for the book to contain by hinting at certain, intriguing details only to return to the main plot a moment after, leaving you high and dry.
And now I'm on to Secrets of the Gotha, which reads like a tabloid adhering to the rules of the Spanish court protocol, so expect lots of random and absurd quotes about 19th century European royals in the near future.
* their route even mirrored ours to a certain extent, as they travelled from New York to D.C.. Eventually, they ended up in Vancouver, which I intend to treat as a portent.
No comments:
Post a Comment