Return of the Cyberpunk

10 September 2004



William Gibson’s Career Recovers with Pattern Recognition

Perhaps, it was enough that Canadian writer William Gibson gave the world the term “cyberspace” in his novelette Burning Chrome. His early works were a breath of fresh air in science fiction, and his fellow cyberpunk writers (Bruce Sterling, Rudy Rucker, Walter Jon Williams, etc.) created a sub-genre every bit as exciting and visionary as the greats of the 1950s. Then, his work wandered from its previous quality: Virtual Light, Idoru, and All Tomorrow’s Parties just weren’t as good. Mr. Gibson, though, has revived his craft and vision with Pattern Recognition.

Even in his weaker books, Mr. Gibson’s writing style has resembled the staccato of a machine gun or a teletype (horrible anachronistic though the comparison is), the literary equivalent ofchannel surfing. The first sentence is, frankly, just beautiful: “Five hour's New York jet lag and Cayce Pollard wakes in Camden Town to the dire and ever-circling wolves of disrupted circadian rhythm.” Read aloud, the words border on poetry.

Cayce Pollard is a “coolhunter,” a front-line marketer whose job is to find the next “big thing” so it can be commoditized. Although in reality that is evil and those who do it are equally bad, in the reality of Gibson’s world circa summer 2002, she’s likable, sane, decent but suffers from an allergy to brands. Logos, slogans and such make her physically sick. If only that were an adaptive trait . . . .

The story revolves around fragments of film circulating on the internet, the “footageheads” who obsess about it, and the Russian Mafia. Mr. Gibson’s telling of it is better than the narration of his previous three novels, and the story is stronger as well. But the world has caught up to Mr. Gibson technologically. In the days of Neuromancer, the internet was barely understood, and e-mail far less common. His vision is less staggering because so much of what he foresaw is commonplace now. The gobsmacked and stunned feeling one got from the first reading of the short story “Johnny Mnemonic” can’t be replicated.

That is not Mr. Gibson’s fault, and Pattern Recognition, had it come out fifteen years ago, could possibly have resulting in that same literary, creative rush. As it is, it’s a fine read, and a joy to see that a talent has rediscovered his abilities.



© Copyright 2004 by The Kensington Review, J. Myhre, Editor. No part of this publication may be reproduced without written consent.



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