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Cyberpunk’s patron saint of prose proves that his reality is every bit as trippy as his fiction.
Gibson’s gift for language is such that banal discussions of Steely Dan and even eBay easily take on otherworldly aspects. In his universe, Singapore is left of Pluto, London lies in the Crab Nebula and Tokyo, of course, might well have its own extra-dimensional zip code. Fans of Mona Lisa Overdrive, Neuromancer and Gibson’s other popular sci-fi novels will not find this at all strange. There is an element of exclusivity to Gibson’s writing that almost lies at the polar end of exposition—or as the author might write, “geared in some achingly complex sphere within sphere way.” The illumination in this text comes from the extent to which the complex author reveals himself to be entirely ordinary, just an average Joe trying to make a living off his writing. Recollections of learning the craft, avoiding the Vietnam War, meeting a woman and getting married show that the man who pioneered “cyberspace” (while actually coining the term) is actually just a normal guy. The welcome humanity seeping through the cracks of this matrix serve as an intriguing counterpoint to the esoteric musings heaped on everything from Japanese movie stars to curious storefront windows. Other targets of the author’s wonder include the Internet, Futurism and one dude’s particularly snazzy pair of jeans. Gibson bolsters the good feelings even further by following up each of these original entries with a brief explanation of what he was thinking about at the time of their creation. In this case, understanding the writer a little better makes the fantastic thoughts emanating from his head all the more captivating and strange.
A provocative, surprising look at the lesser-known parts of a sci-fi superstar’s writing career.
