Neuromancer

Had I read Neuromancer upon release I'm sure I would have loved it. But I didn't. I'm reading it years after its legacy has cemented itself as a tone-setting hallmark of the cyberpunk genre. I've seen this story told in movies and games to the point that its world, terminology and themes have been exhausted of what original value they brought to the table.

For its part, Neuromancer has an incredibly detailed, thoughtful backdrop. It is effectively the encyclopedia of cyberpunk tropes, having coined much of the language that is still used as shorthand in dystopian futurism stories today because of how evocative it is. If you want to be a tourist in such a world - to experience the voyeurism of a futuristic anti-corporate heist while being roped along in a criminal military-industrial plot - this book is your ticket to that nihilist amusement ride. In this regard the book excels. I grew up on The Matrix, Bladerunner, 2001, and have dabbled in Shadowrun; as a historical exercise, I feel like I'm uncovering the communal reference material for many of my favorite genre classics.

What it lacks, however, feels all the more absent now that we've seen twists on the genre that have improved on the source. The book's themes feel like cliches. The interface of humanity and technology, whether artificial intelligence is consciousness, and what extreme corporate power looks like in a future of ruthless space-capitalism - your typical technobabble base. Unfortunately, the book just never poses many questions beyond this standard dystopian affair. There's no suggestion of how society can do better, there's nobody fighting for salvation - the personalities all feel like uninspired cardboard cutouts of people. Despite posing so many dystopian questions, the questions just don't go anywhere. The book poses these questions and resigns to wallowing in their inevitability. It's long-form late-night couch philosophy culminating in "what does it all mean, man?", but at least it's set against the backdrop of futuristic drug abuse, robotic augmentation and cyberdecking into the matrix. What's worse, anything that isn't your standard heist plot dressed in a futuristic setting feels like it hangs all of the dirty laundry of the 80s out to dry - primary among them are sexism and xenophobia. Not for any critical purpose as far as I can tell - just the spirit of the times seeping through into a socially unimaginative distant future. And it's hard to chalk up to the era when contemporaries like Ursula K. Le Guin were exploring concepts like the fluidity of gender identity at the same time.

If there's any saving grace in the book from a critical perspective it is the time spent with the space Rastafarians. I'm not in a position to comment on the authenticity of Rastafarian beliefs or practices, but the introduction of a civilization living with intention to reject and disrupt the ruling corporatocracy was the furthest the book goes into philosophy or politics. It amounts to an unfortunately short detour before the book hops back into full-fledged space heist.

If you're new to cyberpunk worlds, this is a great start. It offers more than enough world building and drips with neon cybernetic style to help get you acquainted with the fundamentals of the genre. If you've been steeped in the genre already, this book offers a nice history lesson, but is a comparatively shallow experience after seeing how much better the genre can be.