Neal Stephenson
Why am I reading Snow Crash now, more than fifteen years after it was first published? Well, for starters I was a mere twelve years old when it was first published in 1992. This point aside, however, the decision to read the book at this precise time can be attributed to a short Publisher's Weekly review of Stephenson's forthcoming novel Anathem (to be released in September). That review says that Anathem compares at some level to my favorite book of all time: Walter M. Miller, Jr.'s A Canticle for Leibowitz. Having never read any Stephenson before, I figured that I had better familiarize myself with his work ahead of the release of Anathem.
Snow Crash is hard to describe. It's a cyberpunk story set in a harshly violent future America in which the rule of law is no more and everything is operated by corporations. People live in separate "burbclaves" that are protected by privately hired security forces and mail is delivered by privately hired Kouriers. The federal government is a shell of its former self and functions as just another corporation.
In reality, Hiro Protagonist lives in a storage unit and delivers pizza for the Mafia. But as one of the original coders of the Metaverse, he also spends a lot of time goggled into his computer. The Metaverse is a computer-based alternate reality that people can visit via their computers or public terminals (think Second Life).
The main story begins when a fellow hacker is exposed to a virus while in the Metaverse. Unlike the computer viruses we're familiar with, however, this virus, called "Snow Crash," also afflicts the infected in real life. Without giving anything away, as the story progresses, we learn that the virus's power in reality has a lot to with the nature of language and Sumerian mythology. The resulting story is a well paced blend of action and explanatory information.
The best thing about this book is Stephenson's amazing ability to paint a bleak picture while being hilarious at the same time. Here's an example:
All these beefy Caucasians with guns! Get enough of them together, looking for the America they always believed they'd grow up in, and they glom together like overcooked rice, form integral, starchy little units. With their power tools, portable generators, weapons, four-wheel-drive vehicles, and personal computers, they are like beavers hyped up on crystal meth, manic engineers without a blueprint, chewing through the wilderness, building things and abandoning them, altering the flow of mighty rivers and then moving on because the place ain't what it used to be.
The byproduct of the lifestyle is polluted rivers, greenhouse effect, spouse abuse, televangelists, and serial killers. But as long as you have that four-wheel-drive vehicle and can keep driving north, you can sustain it, keep moving just quickly enough to stay one step ahead of your own waste stream. In twenty years, ten million white people will converge on the north pole and park their bagos there. The low-grade waste heat of their thermodynamically intense lifestyle will turn the crystalline icescape pliable and treacherous. It will melt a hole through the polar icecap , and all that metal will sink to the bottom, sucking the biomass down with it.
Stephenson excels at this sort of thing, and it was the book's chief asset. Another asset is Stephenson's ability to strike the perfect balance between moving the story along and giving the reader a good sense of the setting in which the action takes place. All too often, in my opinion, books that try to paint a picture of the future often spend too much time attempting to describe it at the expense of the story itself. Stephenson does not fall into this trap.
The biggest problem with Snow Crash, in my opinion, is that Stephenson's explanation of how the virus can be effective in reality just doesn't add up. Reduced to its essentials, the virus's effectiveness is a product of language and human brain structures. Even taking into account the requisite suspension of disbelief, it's simply asking too much for the reader to take this seriously. The fact that the rest of Stephenson's creation is so convincing and internally consistent makes this failure all the more glaring.
Overall, I was very impressed with this book and with Stephenson's ability as a writer and sense of humor. However, the story itself wasn't as interesting as it could have been.
Rating: 8/10
The True First
Snow Crash was first published by Bantam Spectra in 1992. So far as I can tell, the hardcover and trade paperback versions were published simultaneously. However, there were less than 1,000 hardcover firsts printed, which explains that a hardcover first of this book is usually listed at well over $1,000.
[This review was not based on a review copy]
5 comments:
I found Snow Crash a little hard to get into because of the pace of the prose, when I had been led to believe that it was a different sort of a book by a friend. It was a little like walking into a poetry slam but expecting to be at a chamber orchestra concert if you know what I mean.
However, I understand it was a massively new style at the time and helped popularise cyberpunk. It was also a good read if a confusing one (due to both speed and the lack of feasibility in some parts as you mentioned).
I know exactly what you mean. I didn't have too many preconceived notions about Snow Crash and so I didn't have that problem with this particular book but I've certainly had it with others before.
Nor did the pace of the prose bother me either. The feasibility issues really detracted from the experience though. Thanks for your comment!
I both enjoyed and hated this book with both emotions growing more & more intense with every page turned.
the Ideas behind it are incredibly enticing and described at great, great, great length which does create a believable atmosphere extremely effectively.
HOWEVER as believable as it may be it does not take away the fact that at the time the greatest battle within yourself is to not bash your own skull in with the hardest object within arms reach. I was beginning to speak in a language from within myself, not suitable for children every time Hiro walked in to talk to that damn Librarian. But it is effective as infuriating as it may be.
There was really only one thing that I just didn’t understand. Why oh why did he make Y.T 15 if he was going to put her in a love scene!? it is almost sickening. he attempts to create this sexual energy about her that works right up until you get a mention of her age. it makes certain parts of the storyline unbelievable and almost disturbing. for Gods sake change the age to 19 or 18, still a teenager so you dont have to change one single line in the book about her attitude or moxy and you dont get creeped out every time something slightly provocative happens.
Oh and the ending could of done with the Librarian dying a horrible, firey death.
Interesting comments, Martinez. I agree with you about Y.T. and frankly there were several things about her character that I thought were odd.
I see your difficulty as congruent with the falacy that the author perpetuated. Tackling General Semantics as he does , he misconstrues the cause and effect of one of its guiding principles:
"The Map IS Not The Territory", hence the thoughts of the phonemes or pronounciation of the phonemes could not sustain an effect (the virus in the real world). Still, even an attempt at semantics with smoke and mirrors is better than none,
Post a Comment