William Gibson, "Neuromancer"
(This is part 14 of an 18-part story, which begins here. Part 5 is here. And here is where you find part 10. Part 15? Right here. And the end of this entirely too long story is located here. After that, you�re on your own.)
I�m not much of a science fiction fan, as I�ve said before. But I�m trying to be fairly open, especially since I don�t read mysteries, romance novels, westerns, or military adventures. Still though, I really don�t know much about the genre, and despite being open-minded, I don�t have a lot of interest in it either.
A friend of mine once made the comment that science fiction was the romance novel for geeky pre-pubescent boys. I�m inclined to agree, and working in a used bookstore as I do, I�ve noticed a lot of similarities in the cover artwork.
That being said, this book is supposed to be absolutely amazing. It won a shitload of awards, not that this means anything � after all, Titanic won a shitload of awards as well. But I never would have thought to have picked this up, and probably never would have. My crazy ex-girlfriend (at a time when she was neither my girlfriend nor crazy � or at least she was really good at hiding it) gave it to me, saying that she thought it was great.
I started it, but gave up after getting just after halfway through, seeing a million different variations of standard clich�s. How many times can you poison the hero and have them have to scheme in order to solve the puzzle and beat his tormenters?
Not that I can give you any specific examples, but I know I�ve seen it before.
In fact there were only two things that I liked about this book: First, the fact that it was the third book that I had once started and had now finished just proves that I�m getting closer to reaching my goal. Second, when I was reading along, I came to a couple of points where I had written in the book the first time around. At one point, the text described a chemical that �had been shown to produce acute paranoia and homicidal psychosis in eighty-five percent of experimental subjects.�
Underneath that graph I had written, �So, what this book is saying is that the girl that gave me this has been exposed to this chemical.�
Man, I ought to play the lottery, �cause I had no idea how accurate I was!
Anyway, it was time again for another tourist excursion � a hike that culminates with a huge waterfall and wading pool. Apparently, the hike also takes you through the heart of mosquito valley, and despite my frequent spraying of repellant, mosquitoes flocked to me in droves. Since I had failed to get sunburned from the hike, I now seem destined to lose those five pounds from the bugs sucking the very blood out of me.
The hike itself was not hard however, despite the fact that we had to cross a river and navigate several hills. Eventually, after scaling a moderate cliff side, we reached the waterfall. And it�s absolutely deserted. Even the bugs had cleared out, leaving only my guide, seven chickens that were foraging for food, and me.
I climbed to the far end of the wading pool, snapped a couple of pictures of the waterfall, and started to take off my boots, which were now filled with water. Aside from the water spilling over the side, and the baby chicken peeping at me in his way of demanding food, there was no sound at all.
Except for some giggling.
I stopped and listened. The giggling became louder. Soon after, seven girls, all dressed in nothing but bikini�s came traipsing down the mountainside, stopping only to chuck off their sandals, then leaping in the water to frolic underneath the waterfall.
�My god,� I thought to myself, �I�m in a fucking beer commercial.�
If my guide didn�t happen to already be in the water, I would have given her a high five.
