The above is a book by William Gibson (of “cyberspace” fame) that I devoured and finished reading in the wee hours of the night.
It was filled his usual grittiness and godless, forsaken characters struggling to survive in a harsh, post-modern world.
The one thing, however, that struck me the most was my own personal reaction to the plot of the book. In short, the book ended. It ended. Came to a “save the world” kind of conclusion.
Let me explain …
As I was reading the book I purposefully got involved and immersed in the characters and their world. They became real for me. Every time I would pick up the book after 100% focus on “reality” I easily and happily slipped into this dark and apocalyptic world whose denizens struggle to survive.
And I liked that feeling. It’s different from the other books I’m reading. Example: one starts out describing a handsome prince with long, blonde hair (a big hit with the ladies, it said) and his captain of the guard who jests about maids and ale. Oh, and they talk to ghosts.
Ummmm … no, thanks. Except for the ghost spin this is a very, very tired and overdone character. And the world they live in? I’ve been there before. Maybe I’m just not in the mood but it just didn’t click.
Not so with Gibsons’. It wasn’t about clicking, really– it was about surviving.
So I lived in my futuristic, imagined hovel with these characters, trying to understand, trying to make sense, trying not to judge … and it ends.
This is significant because now I have no more “futuristic, imagined hovel” to go back to. I’ll miss it.