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| **1/2 Stars |
It is with zero satisfaction that I have discovered that Neuromancer is not particularly good. I’ll speculate and say that the advent of post-modernism has allowed this book - which is very big on ideas and very short on execution - to be given the attention that is has. The narrative is barely coherent and I found it a slog to get through despite its meagre 320 pages. A mixture of genius and playful but abstruse musings. Basically, POMO. I say all this in the context of William Gibson’s own acknowledgement that producing this book was barely an enjoyable experience. He felt he was an emerging writer and the life of the book post-production surprised him. It went on to win the Nebula Award, the Philip K. Dick Award and the Hugo Award.
I appreciate Gibson's thoughts on this book and give him a lot of respect for his honesty. I will also fess up and let you know that I am being a hypocrite by saying this. I have little patience for authors who try to justify themselves after a work is published. Michael Crichton’s defending of Rising Sun is an especially good example of this. The work needs to stand alone and for Crichton and Gibson this is not the case for either of these books. Nonetheless, Gibson’s reflections are imbued with humbleness and a grappling to understand what Neuromancer is and what is has meant to him while Crichton’s responses always seemed strident and didactic.
