Scan barcode
fishsauce's review against another edition
3.0
This is basically just a rehash of my comments from Twitter:
Seems like a missed opportunity. Made way too many assumptions. Critical method & language a good thirty years out of date. Often seemed hostile to his subject for not (or not obviously) sharing his interests. I think he misunderstood a lot of things. Mostly I think the book wound up exposing Westfahl's weaknesses as a critic rather than offering (much) insight into Gibson. The book has some value, but not much. I think he'd be more comfortable/better writing about a more mercenary, community-oriented writer like Charlie Stross. Stross is a fun writer, and--I don't mean this as an insult--notoriously concerned about markets/SF as a community. As Westfahl seems to be. Gibson, while also fun, outclasses Stross' abilities by an order of magnitude, and is mostly *not* concerned about those things. Or at least not obviously and publicly concerned with them. Westfahl seems hard-pressed to understand that anything other than money can be the primary motive for writing a book, or rather for making certain creative decisions when writing a book.
Seems like a missed opportunity. Made way too many assumptions. Critical method & language a good thirty years out of date. Often seemed hostile to his subject for not (or not obviously) sharing his interests. I think he misunderstood a lot of things. Mostly I think the book wound up exposing Westfahl's weaknesses as a critic rather than offering (much) insight into Gibson. The book has some value, but not much. I think he'd be more comfortable/better writing about a more mercenary, community-oriented writer like Charlie Stross. Stross is a fun writer, and--I don't mean this as an insult--notoriously concerned about markets/SF as a community. As Westfahl seems to be. Gibson, while also fun, outclasses Stross' abilities by an order of magnitude, and is mostly *not* concerned about those things. Or at least not obviously and publicly concerned with them. Westfahl seems hard-pressed to understand that anything other than money can be the primary motive for writing a book, or rather for making certain creative decisions when writing a book.
rosepetals1984's review against another edition
3.0
This probably rates around 2.5 stars for me overall, mostly likely because I expected more from it than what the text provided. I appreciated the short interview at the end of the collection, and the fact that this provides an overarching look at Gibson's writing career and some parts of his personal life and motivations, it made the text worth reading. However, I found the narrative a bit more difficult to get through than I expected. I read many academic texts and I'll admit that I learned many things in this that I didn't know about Gibson's life before, but I honestly didn't see that much passion in the narrative within this text. It felt a bit lacking and dry in the presentation of the material, and it's not necessarily a text you would want to peruse if you wanted a more comprehensive examination of Gibson's individual works and contributions. It's good for a short reference, and definitely organizes the material as far as his contributions of poetry, in fanzines, short stories, screenplays, and his novels, but somehow it left me wanting more when the narrative was all said and done.
Good for a quick reference, but not so much for a comprehensive resource for a man who's contributed remarkable work.
Overall score: 2.5/5 stars
Note: I received this as an ARC from NetGalley, from the publisher University of Illinois Press.
Good for a quick reference, but not so much for a comprehensive resource for a man who's contributed remarkable work.
Overall score: 2.5/5 stars
Note: I received this as an ARC from NetGalley, from the publisher University of Illinois Press.
gerhard's review
5.0
Review proof provided by net galley.com
Hot on the heels of William Gibson’s recent essay collection, Distrust That Particular Flavour, comes well-known Locus critic Gary Westfahl’s exhaustive and illuminating author study. Indeed, Westfahl quotes Distrust in the opening paragraph of Chapter 1: Journey To The Future, where he points out Gibson’s noted aversion to “the idea of direct, unfiltered autobiography”. Westfahl comments that Gibson has been “dribbling” out his autobiography over his entire writing career … seems to be a tinge of disapproval attached to that particular adjective. Perhaps “drip feed” would have been better.
As a long-time Gibson fan, it is incredible to consider that Neuromancer was first published 29 years ago, in what has to rank as one of the most auspicious genre debuts. The book made an indelible impact; I can still clearly recall my initial excitement upon reading it. What is interesting about Gibson is how he has developed since into a cultural lodestone for the genre, and how recent books like Pattern Recognition continue to mutate both his own concerns, as well as directing the future evolution of the genre. Equally interesting is how Gibson has remained a distinctly ‘science fiction’ writer. Despite the limited SF angle of a recent novel like Zero History, he has not been appropriated by the mainstream literary canon. At least I don’t think so…
Therefore it is both fitting and fascinating to approach Gibson as a subject of critical study. I think it is important to reiterate at the outset that this is a critical work – those expecting a speedy read that comfortably signposts Gibson’s oeuvre, influences and impact are likely to be put off by Westfahl’s dense writing, which fairly bristles with references. The research here is impeccable and rigorous.
Even my eyes started to glaze over in Chapter 2: A Dangerous Amateur, where Westfahl recounts the young Gibson’s fanzine output – including cartoons, of all things. “Gibson’s writings in adolescent fanzines are of more interest to scholars”, warns Westfahl. Towards the end of the book, he blows his own trumpet by stating that no scholar has “read or discussed” Gibson’s fanzine contributions. (Gibson himself ponders what impact social media like Twitter or Facebook will have on the juvenilia of writers).
In Chapter 3: Finding His Own Uses For Things, Westfahl notes that Gibson’s first “official” story was Fragments of A Hologram Rose in 1977. I am unsure if by “official” Westfahl means published or merely written. This introduced the concept of virtual reality, then called Apparent Sensory Perception. Of course, 1977 was also the year of Star Wars … It is with details like these that the reader is rather forcibly reminded just how old Gibson is…
Given his own interest in Hugo Gernsback, Westfahl slyly notes that Gibson’s initial stab at meta fiction was The Gernsback Continuum in 1981, the same year as Johnny Mnemonic, which saw the first delineation of that vast shadowy megalopolis that would come to be known as the Sprawl. Cyberspace itself – which many consider Gibson’s main contribution to the genre – only gets added to the mix in 1982’s Burning Chrome.
In addition to providing overviews and pointing out important stylistic quirks and details, Westfahl is careful to place Gibson’s early short fiction in the context of the nascent genre of the time, with Gibson himself acknowledging the influence of Samuel R. Delany, while other writers like Alfred Bester and Cordwainer Smith were treading a similar path.
Chapter 4 then is the ‘big one’, Legends of the Sprawl, which takes an in-depth look at Neuromancer, Count Zero and Mona Lisa Overdrive. Westfahl lays down the gauntlet at the outset by stating that any critic faces an enormous task in saying anything ‘new’ about these seminal novels, especially Neuromancer (and that famous opening line).
Westfahl points out that “one discerns within the seemingly assured Neuromancer a terrified author, with uncertainty radiating from every page”. It is therefore “ironic” that this novel is generally perceived as such a confident postmodern manifesto. Terrified? Uncertainty? I certainly did not detect any of this in my first reading of Neuromancer, which seered itself into my brain with its white-hot synaesthesia. It is a pity that Westfahl does not elaborate more on this apparent disconnect between the author’s own sense of insecurity and his fictional bravado.
Of particular interest to the SF fan is Westfahl’s discussion of the Freeside space habitat in Neuromancer, seen as a ‘mini Sprawl’, and how later novels would be set exclusively on Earth, which in a symbolic sense distanced Gibson from so many genre tropes, from space opera to alien contact. Westfahl notes, rather portentously, that what interested critics most about Neuromancer was the “ways that new technologies undermine conventional views of reality and human identity”. Why ‘undermine’? Has Westfahl forgotten what a mindfuck Neuromancer was to read at the time? We all wanted to be like Case, man! Westfahl does add the caveat though that “complex interpretations of Neuromancer may have their own validity but they do not necessarily represent Gibson’s own intentions or concerns”. Or the reader's.
Westfahl’s impassioned and detailed discussion of the Sprawl novels brought back happy reading memories, as well as joining the dots in a few places for me, and making me think a bit more about Gibson in particular and SF in general. I think this is the best way to approach this critical study, if you are an ‘armchair academic’ like myself.
After the intense Chapter 3, Westfahl gives the committed reader a bit of a break, with an eclectic look at The Difference Engine, screenplays (Alien 3 and Johnny Mnemonic), poetry, song lyrics and nonfiction. Chapter 6: A Bridge To The Present turns the spotlight on Virtual Light, Idoru and All Tomorrow’s Parties. Chapter 7: All Today’s Parties bookends the study with Pattern Recognition, Spook Country and Zero History.
And as for the future of one of the genre’s most celebrated futurists? Westfahl comments (rather coldly, like a doctor with bad bedside manners): “Entering his 65th year, Gibson will likely remain an active writer for at least another decade or two”. No one needs a crystal ball to predict that “his most significant future works will surely be novels”. Westfahl highlights a 2012 comment by Gibson of his intention to ‘return’ to SF, as opposed to the ‘near future’ concerns of his later work – it is emblematic of Gibson’s continued capacity to invigorate the genre that virtually every utterance like this is studied and emblazoned with significance.
While his status in SF is assured, Westfahl notes that how Gibson “will figure in modern histories of literature is less clear. Surprisingly, in the context of other writers categorised as postmodern, Gibson may be cast as a traditional, even old-fashioned sort of writer”. Westfahl argues that Gibson can be seen as being “fundamentally conservative”, having “never abandoned the values he absorbed in the 1950s”.
Well, this is a specious argument. Every writer has a context, including the ones that Westfahl are supposedly comparing Gibson to. And surely comparing SF writers to postmodern ones is a case of apples versus oranges? I also think Westfahl does a disservice to the genre here as he subconsciously seems to indicate it is inferior to the mainstream canon.
The book concludes with an edited email interview conducted on 22 and 24 July 2012, which is a graceful way of ending the study with the inclusion of Gibson’s own ‘voice’. I really enjoyed this book. SF readers are sometimes shocked to discover that the genre they love does, indeed, have a rather illustrious history...
Hot on the heels of William Gibson’s recent essay collection, Distrust That Particular Flavour, comes well-known Locus critic Gary Westfahl’s exhaustive and illuminating author study. Indeed, Westfahl quotes Distrust in the opening paragraph of Chapter 1: Journey To The Future, where he points out Gibson’s noted aversion to “the idea of direct, unfiltered autobiography”. Westfahl comments that Gibson has been “dribbling” out his autobiography over his entire writing career … seems to be a tinge of disapproval attached to that particular adjective. Perhaps “drip feed” would have been better.
As a long-time Gibson fan, it is incredible to consider that Neuromancer was first published 29 years ago, in what has to rank as one of the most auspicious genre debuts. The book made an indelible impact; I can still clearly recall my initial excitement upon reading it. What is interesting about Gibson is how he has developed since into a cultural lodestone for the genre, and how recent books like Pattern Recognition continue to mutate both his own concerns, as well as directing the future evolution of the genre. Equally interesting is how Gibson has remained a distinctly ‘science fiction’ writer. Despite the limited SF angle of a recent novel like Zero History, he has not been appropriated by the mainstream literary canon. At least I don’t think so…
Therefore it is both fitting and fascinating to approach Gibson as a subject of critical study. I think it is important to reiterate at the outset that this is a critical work – those expecting a speedy read that comfortably signposts Gibson’s oeuvre, influences and impact are likely to be put off by Westfahl’s dense writing, which fairly bristles with references. The research here is impeccable and rigorous.
Even my eyes started to glaze over in Chapter 2: A Dangerous Amateur, where Westfahl recounts the young Gibson’s fanzine output – including cartoons, of all things. “Gibson’s writings in adolescent fanzines are of more interest to scholars”, warns Westfahl. Towards the end of the book, he blows his own trumpet by stating that no scholar has “read or discussed” Gibson’s fanzine contributions. (Gibson himself ponders what impact social media like Twitter or Facebook will have on the juvenilia of writers).
In Chapter 3: Finding His Own Uses For Things, Westfahl notes that Gibson’s first “official” story was Fragments of A Hologram Rose in 1977. I am unsure if by “official” Westfahl means published or merely written. This introduced the concept of virtual reality, then called Apparent Sensory Perception. Of course, 1977 was also the year of Star Wars … It is with details like these that the reader is rather forcibly reminded just how old Gibson is…
Given his own interest in Hugo Gernsback, Westfahl slyly notes that Gibson’s initial stab at meta fiction was The Gernsback Continuum in 1981, the same year as Johnny Mnemonic, which saw the first delineation of that vast shadowy megalopolis that would come to be known as the Sprawl. Cyberspace itself – which many consider Gibson’s main contribution to the genre – only gets added to the mix in 1982’s Burning Chrome.
In addition to providing overviews and pointing out important stylistic quirks and details, Westfahl is careful to place Gibson’s early short fiction in the context of the nascent genre of the time, with Gibson himself acknowledging the influence of Samuel R. Delany, while other writers like Alfred Bester and Cordwainer Smith were treading a similar path.
Chapter 4 then is the ‘big one’, Legends of the Sprawl, which takes an in-depth look at Neuromancer, Count Zero and Mona Lisa Overdrive. Westfahl lays down the gauntlet at the outset by stating that any critic faces an enormous task in saying anything ‘new’ about these seminal novels, especially Neuromancer (and that famous opening line).
Westfahl points out that “one discerns within the seemingly assured Neuromancer a terrified author, with uncertainty radiating from every page”. It is therefore “ironic” that this novel is generally perceived as such a confident postmodern manifesto. Terrified? Uncertainty? I certainly did not detect any of this in my first reading of Neuromancer, which seered itself into my brain with its white-hot synaesthesia. It is a pity that Westfahl does not elaborate more on this apparent disconnect between the author’s own sense of insecurity and his fictional bravado.
Of particular interest to the SF fan is Westfahl’s discussion of the Freeside space habitat in Neuromancer, seen as a ‘mini Sprawl’, and how later novels would be set exclusively on Earth, which in a symbolic sense distanced Gibson from so many genre tropes, from space opera to alien contact. Westfahl notes, rather portentously, that what interested critics most about Neuromancer was the “ways that new technologies undermine conventional views of reality and human identity”. Why ‘undermine’? Has Westfahl forgotten what a mindfuck Neuromancer was to read at the time? We all wanted to be like Case, man! Westfahl does add the caveat though that “complex interpretations of Neuromancer may have their own validity but they do not necessarily represent Gibson’s own intentions or concerns”. Or the reader's.
Westfahl’s impassioned and detailed discussion of the Sprawl novels brought back happy reading memories, as well as joining the dots in a few places for me, and making me think a bit more about Gibson in particular and SF in general. I think this is the best way to approach this critical study, if you are an ‘armchair academic’ like myself.
After the intense Chapter 3, Westfahl gives the committed reader a bit of a break, with an eclectic look at The Difference Engine, screenplays (Alien 3 and Johnny Mnemonic), poetry, song lyrics and nonfiction. Chapter 6: A Bridge To The Present turns the spotlight on Virtual Light, Idoru and All Tomorrow’s Parties. Chapter 7: All Today’s Parties bookends the study with Pattern Recognition, Spook Country and Zero History.
And as for the future of one of the genre’s most celebrated futurists? Westfahl comments (rather coldly, like a doctor with bad bedside manners): “Entering his 65th year, Gibson will likely remain an active writer for at least another decade or two”. No one needs a crystal ball to predict that “his most significant future works will surely be novels”. Westfahl highlights a 2012 comment by Gibson of his intention to ‘return’ to SF, as opposed to the ‘near future’ concerns of his later work – it is emblematic of Gibson’s continued capacity to invigorate the genre that virtually every utterance like this is studied and emblazoned with significance.
While his status in SF is assured, Westfahl notes that how Gibson “will figure in modern histories of literature is less clear. Surprisingly, in the context of other writers categorised as postmodern, Gibson may be cast as a traditional, even old-fashioned sort of writer”. Westfahl argues that Gibson can be seen as being “fundamentally conservative”, having “never abandoned the values he absorbed in the 1950s”.
Well, this is a specious argument. Every writer has a context, including the ones that Westfahl are supposedly comparing Gibson to. And surely comparing SF writers to postmodern ones is a case of apples versus oranges? I also think Westfahl does a disservice to the genre here as he subconsciously seems to indicate it is inferior to the mainstream canon.
The book concludes with an edited email interview conducted on 22 and 24 July 2012, which is a graceful way of ending the study with the inclusion of Gibson’s own ‘voice’. I really enjoyed this book. SF readers are sometimes shocked to discover that the genre they love does, indeed, have a rather illustrious history...
More...