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Bridge #1
Virtual Light
2005: Welcome to NoCal and SoCal, the uneasy sister-states of what used to be California. Here the millenium has come and gone, leaving in its wake only stunned survivors.
In Los Angeles, Berry Rydell is a former armed-response rentacop now working for a bounty hunter. Chevette Washington is a bicycle messenger turned pickpocket who impulsively snatches a pair of innocent-looking sunglasses. But these are no ordinary shades. What you can see through these high-tech specs can make you rich—or get you killed.
Now Berry and Chevette are on the run, zeroing in on the digitalized heart of DatAmerica, where pure information is the greatest high. And a mind can be a terrible thing to crash...
In Los Angeles, Berry Rydell is a former armed-response rentacop now working for a bounty hunter. Chevette Washington is a bicycle messenger turned pickpocket who impulsively snatches a pair of innocent-looking sunglasses. But these are no ordinary shades. What you can see through these high-tech specs can make you rich—or get you killed.
Now Berry and Chevette are on the run, zeroing in on the digitalized heart of DatAmerica, where pure information is the greatest high. And a mind can be a terrible thing to crash...
325 pages, Hardcover
First published September 1, 1993
About the author
William Gibson
239 books13.9k followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
William Ford Gibson is an American-Canadian writer who has been called the father of the cyberpunk subgenre of science fiction, having coined the term cyberspace in 1982 and popularized it in his first novel, Neuromancer (1984), which has sold more than 6.5 million copies worldwide.
While his early writing took the form of short stories, Gibson has since written nine critically acclaimed novels (one in collaboration), contributed articles to several major publications, and has collaborated extensively with performance artists, filmmakers and musicians. His thought has been cited as an influence on science fiction authors, academia, cyberculture, and technology.
---------------------------------
William Gibson. (2007, October 17). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 20:30, October 19, 2007, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?t...
William Ford Gibson is an American-Canadian writer who has been called the father of the cyberpunk subgenre of science fiction, having coined the term cyberspace in 1982 and popularized it in his first novel, Neuromancer (1984), which has sold more than 6.5 million copies worldwide.
While his early writing took the form of short stories, Gibson has since written nine critically acclaimed novels (one in collaboration), contributed articles to several major publications, and has collaborated extensively with performance artists, filmmakers and musicians. His thought has been cited as an influence on science fiction authors, academia, cyberculture, and technology.
---------------------------------
William Gibson. (2007, October 17). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 20:30, October 19, 2007, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?t...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 731 reviews
November 5, 2018
William Gibson begins his Bridge trilogy with this 1993 publication that was nominated for both the Hugo and the Locus awards.
In the air of great protagonist names won hands down by Neal Stephenson in his 1992 cyberpunkapalooza Snow Crash with Hiro Protagonist, Gibson introduces us to Chevette Washington, a messenger living on the Bay Bridge between San Francisco and Oakland who gets caught up in corporate espionage surrounding some stolen glasses.
But these are not just any glasses, they produce virtual light, enabling the viewer to see more than reality, and this is not just the Bay Bridge, this is Gibson’s world building after devastating earthquakes and after tumultuous socioeconomic and political upheavals.
Taking off from his archetypal Sprawl series, Gibson gives us another foray into a near future cyberpunk landscape that mesmerizes as it entertains. While this lacks the fringe element edgy cool of Neuromancer, this is told more straightforward and has some early indications of the kind of writing Gibson would do with his Blue Ant series. SF readers who could not buy into the Sprawl books may find this one more approachable.
Lots of fun and highly recommended.
In the air of great protagonist names won hands down by Neal Stephenson in his 1992 cyberpunkapalooza Snow Crash with Hiro Protagonist, Gibson introduces us to Chevette Washington, a messenger living on the Bay Bridge between San Francisco and Oakland who gets caught up in corporate espionage surrounding some stolen glasses.
But these are not just any glasses, they produce virtual light, enabling the viewer to see more than reality, and this is not just the Bay Bridge, this is Gibson’s world building after devastating earthquakes and after tumultuous socioeconomic and political upheavals.
Taking off from his archetypal Sprawl series, Gibson gives us another foray into a near future cyberpunk landscape that mesmerizes as it entertains. While this lacks the fringe element edgy cool of Neuromancer, this is told more straightforward and has some early indications of the kind of writing Gibson would do with his Blue Ant series. SF readers who could not buy into the Sprawl books may find this one more approachable.
Lots of fun and highly recommended.
January 3, 2010
Was rather disappointed by this one, and I'm starting to get the feeling that Gibson's been writing the same book over and over. While the technology mattered in Gibson's Sprawl trilogy, Virtual Light seemed more like a on-the-run-from-bad-guys thriller set in a vagueishly sci-fi setting. The tech that was stolen could have just as well been a candy bar. I wanted to find out more about the plan on the tech (to rebuild San Fran after an earthquake), the Bay Bridge community, and all the other interesting bits that Gibson created. Instead, all of that seems to be zooming by on the outside while the story focuses on one long chase scene; it's always present but is very blurry and merely serves as a backdrop.
May 31, 2024
I'm not sure what happened to William Gibson in the early 90's, but I don't like it. His authorial voice changed so dramatically in Virtual Light I might believe he actually didn't write this. Maybe he grew bored of his cyberpunk vision and needed a change to stretch his creative muscle. Many people seem to like this experiment but I find it uninspired. In hindsight, I think I rated this too charitably from memory.
December 8, 2019
Preromancer
This 1993 novel isn't so much set in the cyberspace of Gibson's “Neuromancer", as in the world of an imagined 2005/2006 (the exact date doesn't seem to be mentioned in the text itself, and there's a conflict in the extrinsic evidence), after some event (perhaps an earthquake) has destroyed much of San Francisco, and California has been split into two states, NoCal and SoCal.
The technology isn't as advanced as the digital matrix in “Neuromancer", which was apparently set in the 2030's. Some people communicate by “fax", not the faxes of the 1980’s, but some type of portable videophone that has an eyepiece.
It's late-stage capitalism, rather than post-capitalism.
Archaic Courier on a Bicycle
Chevette Washington is a messenger, a courier. Unlike Y. T. in Neal Stephenson's 1992 novel, “Snow Crash" (who rides a motor bike), “she's got a job riding a bicycle around San Francisco, delivering messages.” Chevette “earns her living at the archaic intersection of information and geography.” Data needs to be moved around.
Despite the prevalence of computers, there’s no mention of the world wide web or emails. “Even if she's just riding confidential papers around San Francisco, she's a courier. She's entrusted, Rydell. The data becomes a physical thing. She carries it.” The digital world is still partly analogue. The exercise might be the reason Chevette’s bare legs are “smooth and muscular”.
Chevette steals a case containing some sunglasses and some data from an abusive asshole she meets at a party. The glasses are virtual light glasses: “There are drivers in the frames and lenses. They affect the nerves directly...It's a virtual light display...you can see the datafeed at the same time...You can see the input.”
The Business of Real Estate
It turns out that the data consists of the plans for the redevelopment of San Francisco that were supposed to be delivered to an important recipient.
Constant Nieuwenhuys - New Babylon
The Bridge People and Their Accretion of Dreams
The people who are likely to oppose the plans are the residents of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge who live in improvised structures they have built on the bridge with found materials.
Gibson displays a sense of humour throughout the novel. One of the bars is called “Cognitive Dissidents”. Or as one resident says, “It’s not a bar. It's a chill.”
"Modernity was Ending"
These dissidents signal not just the end of the past, but the beginning of the future. It might even be a continuum:
The novel is an entertaining scifi action thriller with a profound but subtle counter-cultural political message.
SOUNDTRACK:
This 1993 novel isn't so much set in the cyberspace of Gibson's “Neuromancer", as in the world of an imagined 2005/2006 (the exact date doesn't seem to be mentioned in the text itself, and there's a conflict in the extrinsic evidence), after some event (perhaps an earthquake) has destroyed much of San Francisco, and California has been split into two states, NoCal and SoCal.
The technology isn't as advanced as the digital matrix in “Neuromancer", which was apparently set in the 2030's. Some people communicate by “fax", not the faxes of the 1980’s, but some type of portable videophone that has an eyepiece.
It's late-stage capitalism, rather than post-capitalism.
Archaic Courier on a Bicycle
Chevette Washington is a messenger, a courier. Unlike Y. T. in Neal Stephenson's 1992 novel, “Snow Crash" (who rides a motor bike), “she's got a job riding a bicycle around San Francisco, delivering messages.” Chevette “earns her living at the archaic intersection of information and geography.” Data needs to be moved around.
Despite the prevalence of computers, there’s no mention of the world wide web or emails. “Even if she's just riding confidential papers around San Francisco, she's a courier. She's entrusted, Rydell. The data becomes a physical thing. She carries it.” The digital world is still partly analogue. The exercise might be the reason Chevette’s bare legs are “smooth and muscular”.
Chevette steals a case containing some sunglasses and some data from an abusive asshole she meets at a party. The glasses are virtual light glasses: “There are drivers in the frames and lenses. They affect the nerves directly...It's a virtual light display...you can see the datafeed at the same time...You can see the input.”
The Business of Real Estate
It turns out that the data consists of the plans for the redevelopment of San Francisco that were supposed to be delivered to an important recipient.
“The problem is that a city like San Francisco has about as much sense of where it wants to go, of where it should go, as you do. Which is to say, very little. There are people, millions of them, who would object to the fact that this sort of plan even exists. Then there's the business of real estate...”
Constant Nieuwenhuys - New Babylon
The Bridge People and Their Accretion of Dreams
The people who are likely to oppose the plans are the residents of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge who live in improvised structures they have built on the bridge with found materials.
“And that bridge, man, that's one evil motherfucking place. Those people anarchists, antichrists, cannibal motherfuckers out there, man...”
“The bridge's steel bones, its stranded tendons, were lost within an accretion of dreams: tattoo parlors, gaming arcades, dimly lit stalls stacked with decaying magazines, sellers of fireworks, of cut bait, betting shops, sushi bars, unlicensed pawnbrokers, herbalists, barbers, bars... Rain-silvered plywood, broken marble from the walls of forgotten banks, corrugated plastic, polished brass, sequins, painted canvas, mirrors, chrome gone dull and peeling in the salt air...
“Down on the bottom deck, once you got in past a lot of food-wagons, there were mostly bars, the smallest ones Rydell had ever seen, some with only four stools and not even a door, just a big shutter they could pull down and lock... Now that he looked around, he saw lots of narrow little stairways snaking up between stalls and shuttered micro-bars, and no pattern to it at all. He guessed they all led up into the same rats-nest, but there was no guarantee they'd all connect up.”
Gibson displays a sense of humour throughout the novel. One of the bars is called “Cognitive Dissidents”. Or as one resident says, “It’s not a bar. It's a chill.”
"Modernity was Ending"
These dissidents signal not just the end of the past, but the beginning of the future. It might even be a continuum:
“We are come not only past the century's closing, the millennium's turning, but to the end of something else. Era? Paradigm? Everywhere, the signs of closure... Modernity was ending. Here, on the bridge, it long since had.”
The novel is an entertaining scifi action thriller with a profound but subtle counter-cultural political message.
SOUNDTRACK:
December 30, 2008
I felt like Gibson created a cool world for the story to take place in, but then just never wrote the story. A messenger nabs some VR glasses and gets the help of some ex-cop blah... who cares? He just never got me to care about the characters or their conflicts.
I wanted to hear more about the dystopian California-states and the fancy VR itself, but then all Gibson wanted to talk about Berry and Chevette.
3 stars purely because of the world Gibson dreamed up, but if you're looking for a good story you should probably try elsewhere.
I wanted to hear more about the dystopian California-states and the fancy VR itself, but then all Gibson wanted to talk about Berry and Chevette.
3 stars purely because of the world Gibson dreamed up, but if you're looking for a good story you should probably try elsewhere.
June 7, 2017
Not Gibson's best work, but still thoughtful. The whole cyberpunk genre is a valuable exploration of ideas about our near future. A future within reach of many who are alive today.
July 22, 2014
I'm re-reading the early Gibson because I remember liking them and I can't keep the books straight. Virtual Light stands as high-quality, maybe one of his more underrated titles, at least to me, upon a second reading, because except for a somewhat abrupt ending, the novel is excellent. The book's true star is the bridge, and if Gibson ever releases a "greatest hits" of passages from his work, his initial description of the bridge deserves a place of honor. You can see him extending Ballard's influence and perceptions of concurrent decay and advancement. The glasses connected to the title are cool, of course, and even better than whatever google's cooking up, but I think, throughout Gibson's work, the underlying focus is the tough, stubborn ability of humans to adapt, whether criminally or not, to roadblocks and opportunities. He's one of the best, one of my favorites, really, and his early work holds up.
February 1, 2022
Just like "Burning Chrome" and the Sprawl Trilogy, this first entry into the Bridge Trilogy that Wm. Gibson wrote throughout the 1990's is a very different reading experience than I expected.
"Virtual Light" is an easier read than any of those, taking place in a near future dystopia with few fantastic elements. The plot is also less convoluted despite Gibson as usual insisting on using as little exposition as possible, meaning that blink-and-you'll-miss-it details often turn out to be major plot points. As I might have mentioned in a previous review of a Gibson book, that stops being a problem if the reader pays enough attention. Considering that trashy reality TV shows and privatised law enforcement agencies play major roles in the plot, this actually feels like it could be set in the same universe as the "Robocop" movies. The plot even revolves around private initiatives to tear down a major US city and rebuild it from scratch, similar to the Delta City plan for Detroit in "Robocop", and the hunt to keep it secret from the population who insist on actually living there.
On the other hand, I am starting to get the impression much of Gibson's appeal comes from his talent at creating well thought out yet convincingly alienating future slang to write his books in. Something which the Sprawl Trilogy did better than any work of science-fiction since Anthony Burgess' "A Clockwork Orange". "Virtual Light" feels for the most part like a fairly conventional if competent crime thriller. Even the weirder social milieux described, like anarchist squatters and right-wing militias, have existed as depicted here in real life since the 1970's at least. The central MacGuffin, a pair of virtual reality glasses describing the plans for Delta City-ing San Francisco, could be any other container of those schemes for the function of the plot.
As a result, I am surprised at how much I ended up enjoying "Virtual Light". The large cast of eccentric main characters are memorable and interesting enough as people that I end up caring about their inner lives and what happens to them. The aforementioned subcultures are described with a high level of attention as well as giving the reader a sense of what the surrounding world looks like from their point of view. One thing I did like was that Gibson at the same time put much work into describing how off-putting these subcultures come across to so-called normal people, yet at the same time making it clear that their own parallel communities are in fact less dysfunctional than mainstream society.
Cut out in cardboard: "Virtual Light" is a disappointment if you go in expecting a "throw the reader headfirst into a bizarre unfamiliar future" novel like Gibson used to specialise in, but if you expect a crime thriller set largely among the weirder subcultures of 1990's America it's not bad at all.
"Virtual Light" is an easier read than any of those, taking place in a near future dystopia with few fantastic elements. The plot is also less convoluted despite Gibson as usual insisting on using as little exposition as possible, meaning that blink-and-you'll-miss-it details often turn out to be major plot points. As I might have mentioned in a previous review of a Gibson book, that stops being a problem if the reader pays enough attention. Considering that trashy reality TV shows and privatised law enforcement agencies play major roles in the plot, this actually feels like it could be set in the same universe as the "Robocop" movies. The plot even revolves around private initiatives to tear down a major US city and rebuild it from scratch, similar to the Delta City plan for Detroit in "Robocop", and the hunt to keep it secret from the population who insist on actually living there.
On the other hand, I am starting to get the impression much of Gibson's appeal comes from his talent at creating well thought out yet convincingly alienating future slang to write his books in. Something which the Sprawl Trilogy did better than any work of science-fiction since Anthony Burgess' "A Clockwork Orange". "Virtual Light" feels for the most part like a fairly conventional if competent crime thriller. Even the weirder social milieux described, like anarchist squatters and right-wing militias, have existed as depicted here in real life since the 1970's at least. The central MacGuffin, a pair of virtual reality glasses describing the plans for Delta City-ing San Francisco, could be any other container of those schemes for the function of the plot.
As a result, I am surprised at how much I ended up enjoying "Virtual Light". The large cast of eccentric main characters are memorable and interesting enough as people that I end up caring about their inner lives and what happens to them. The aforementioned subcultures are described with a high level of attention as well as giving the reader a sense of what the surrounding world looks like from their point of view. One thing I did like was that Gibson at the same time put much work into describing how off-putting these subcultures come across to so-called normal people, yet at the same time making it clear that their own parallel communities are in fact less dysfunctional than mainstream society.
Cut out in cardboard: "Virtual Light" is a disappointment if you go in expecting a "throw the reader headfirst into a bizarre unfamiliar future" novel like Gibson used to specialise in, but if you expect a crime thriller set largely among the weirder subcultures of 1990's America it's not bad at all.
November 16, 2020
Is there a plot, characters, a "story" here? Sure, I guess so. But it all seems like window dressing to the dystopian "have nots" sticking it to the "haves" and mega corporations in near future "experience". Slightly more comprehensible than Gibson's earlier work, with occasional attempts at humor, but still, if this were a painting people would call it a mood piece. Some people would get it, most would not, though many would pretend to.
December 4, 2014
Last week Kevin Mitnick was on The Colbert Report to promote his new book,
Ghost in the Wires
and talk about hacking. For those of us who grew up with the Web as a fact of life and absorbed "hacker culture" through Hollywood, Mitnick's experiences seem somewhat alien. Hacking started long before the Web, of course, and even today hacking is nothing like what one sees on the movies. However, it's just in this decade that we, as a society, are beginning to understand and react to the effects of hacking as a phenomenon. It seems like not a week goes by without another story in the news about a company or government database being hacked. Law enforcement agencies have taken cybercrime seriously for a long time now, as demonstrated by Mitnick's arrest and conviction, but lately arrests of alleged members of groups like Anonymous are making the news more often. We live in the WikiLeaks era, where it doesn't matter if information wants to be free. Once information is out there, there is no taking it back.
It strikes me that William Gibson gets this. In fact, he understood it a lot earlier than most of us. He was writing about this stuff before I was born. Neuromancer is indubitably his most famous and influential work, and the Hollywood vision of hacking probably owes a lot to his portrayal of the cyberspace experience of console cowboys (damn you, Gibson!). With Virtual Light, it feels like Gibson is looking at hacker culture, and its effects on society, from the other side now. The main characters are victims of hackers; they employ hackers; but they are not hackers themselves. Nevertheless, Gibson turns them into tools for making information free.
Virtual Light is a little confusing at first. I wasn't sure who the main character was—is it this nameless courier? This weird private security guard named "Berry Rydell"? This messenger whom we eventually learn is called Chevette? After the first few chapters, however, the story finally emerged, and its protagonists quickly followed. On a whim, Chevette picks a courier's pocket and steals a valuable pair of sunglasses, which contain information encoded optically about a sensitive business deal that will impact all of San Francisco. She ends up on the run with Rydell as an unlikely ally.
Rydell and Chevette wormed their way into my heart. This is good, because as far as its story goes, Virtual Light is surprisingly linear and predictable—surprising because I wouldn't expect it from Gibson. So I completely understand why people pan the book because of this aspect; story is not Virtual Light's strongest area. As an "on the run from the bad guys until we can broadcast our information" story, it keeps me entertained. To really appreciate it, however, one has to be willing to dig further into the way Gibson approaches the role of hacking, the flow of information, and the stratification of society in a broken United States of America.
I've already talked lots about hacking, but let me say a little more. I love how Rydell loses his job because someone hacked the computer on his company truck and created a false alarm. Not only are the scene and its subsequent debriefing hilarious, but this is something that could happen today (and probably already has). We get so much of our information from intangible, computer-moderated sources and have learned to trust that information implicitly. When Rydell's truck tells him there is an armed hostage situation on a client's property, he doesn't hesitate to respond aggressively. This trust is useful, because we can react a lot more quickly when the information comes to us instantaneously—but as Rydell learns, it is dangerous too. The same thing happens today, with hackers posting fake releases about celebrity deaths on legitimate news websites. So this is a very interesting phenomenon that we, as a society, are still struggling to adapt to, and I like how Gibson tackles it in Virtual Light.
In many ways this book is also similar to Gibson's "Johnny Mneumonic", of Keanu Reeves infamy. Both feature a courier carrying information that could incite unrest. In Johnny's case, it's hardwired into his brain. In Chevette's case, she appropriates the package as a pair of sunglasses. But the moral remains the same: in a world where we can send a message to someone across the ocean less than the blink of an eye, the only truly secure method of communicate remains a physical package (even if that package is only a one-time pad). As Loveless remarks in Virtual Light:
Imagine a map that depicts the world as lights connected by glowing lines—people, or buildings, or cities, connected by digital communication. Zoom in enough, and along the virtual representations of city streets, you will see glowing blue and red dots. These are the couriers, the physical purveyors of digital information. The trusted ones.
I guess ultimately what I'm trying to say here is that I appreciate Virtual Light for the way it raises relevant, contemporary issues about existing in the digital era. As always, Gibson's observations are a combination of chilling and seductive, with a little bit of edgy humour thrown in. There's Reverend Fallon's cult of Christians who believe they will find God in old movies, and the cult that worships Shapely, a man whose non-lethal strain of HIV resulted in a vaccine. Some of these subplots don't seem explored as fully as they could have been considering how much time Gibson devotes to them. Shapely's story in particular perplexes me, for we learn it all through exposition that seems otherwise unconnected from the rest of the narrative. Why is it all that important? I'm probably missing something larger here.
That being said, I can at least see how it works with Virtual Light's presentation of the rift between the various classes of American society. There's the sleek, slightly antiseptic feel of Karen Mendelsohn; the creepy vibe of the man we never see, Cody Harwood; the domineering little shit that is Lowell; the valiant, heroic, yet tragic Skinner; and of course, the working class: Rydell, Chevette, Sublett, et al. Karen treats Rydell as hot stuff while he is the best thing Cops in Trouble have going, but the moment a higher-profile opportunity arises, she kicks him to the curb. The people who want the data on those sunglasses kept secret, the people like Cody Harwood, do not hesitate to kill lesser people like Rydell and Chevette. And of course, there's the bridge.
People living on a ravaged Bay Bridge, having transformed it into an actual community, is a vision right out of something like The Wind-Up Girl, some sort of post-apocalyptic world gone mad. One might expect to see a little less civilization, and that's certainly what some of the minor characters in Virtual Light suggest. Warbaby gives Rydell a description of the Bridge community that Chevette and Skinner patently belie, and it's not entirely clear whether Warbaby actually believes this bit of bigotry or whether he's just coldly manipulating Rydell. (I suspect the latter, but with Gibson I'm not going to bet anything I value on it.) The Bridge community is intriguing, and I would have liked to learn more about it. But of course, that's what the other two books in this trilogy are for.
Virtual Light is not as stunning as Neuromancer, and it deserves the criticism levelled at its story and structure. I reject the idea that this is a bad novel, however, and certainly that this is somehow a lesser work of William Gibson. I think it does something useful and interesting, from its portrayal of hackers to the importance of securing the information that comes into Rydell and Chevette's possession. It might not do this as artfully or as skilfully as I would like, but it is still a fascinating piece of science fiction.
Except, of course, that it is no longer science fiction. Sure, the specifics of this 1990s novel, set in 2005, did not come to pass—but all of the issues Gibson raises are things we are confronting, or will soon confront, in our present decade. Virtual Light is a noteworthy example of how science fiction does not need to predict the future in order to predict the problems we will be facing and prompt us to ponder solutions before it's too late. As usual, William Gibson demonstrates that science fiction is valuable.
My reviews of the Bridge trilogy:
Idoru →
It strikes me that William Gibson gets this. In fact, he understood it a lot earlier than most of us. He was writing about this stuff before I was born. Neuromancer is indubitably his most famous and influential work, and the Hollywood vision of hacking probably owes a lot to his portrayal of the cyberspace experience of console cowboys (damn you, Gibson!). With Virtual Light, it feels like Gibson is looking at hacker culture, and its effects on society, from the other side now. The main characters are victims of hackers; they employ hackers; but they are not hackers themselves. Nevertheless, Gibson turns them into tools for making information free.
Virtual Light is a little confusing at first. I wasn't sure who the main character was—is it this nameless courier? This weird private security guard named "Berry Rydell"? This messenger whom we eventually learn is called Chevette? After the first few chapters, however, the story finally emerged, and its protagonists quickly followed. On a whim, Chevette picks a courier's pocket and steals a valuable pair of sunglasses, which contain information encoded optically about a sensitive business deal that will impact all of San Francisco. She ends up on the run with Rydell as an unlikely ally.
Rydell and Chevette wormed their way into my heart. This is good, because as far as its story goes, Virtual Light is surprisingly linear and predictable—surprising because I wouldn't expect it from Gibson. So I completely understand why people pan the book because of this aspect; story is not Virtual Light's strongest area. As an "on the run from the bad guys until we can broadcast our information" story, it keeps me entertained. To really appreciate it, however, one has to be willing to dig further into the way Gibson approaches the role of hacking, the flow of information, and the stratification of society in a broken United States of America.
I've already talked lots about hacking, but let me say a little more. I love how Rydell loses his job because someone hacked the computer on his company truck and created a false alarm. Not only are the scene and its subsequent debriefing hilarious, but this is something that could happen today (and probably already has). We get so much of our information from intangible, computer-moderated sources and have learned to trust that information implicitly. When Rydell's truck tells him there is an armed hostage situation on a client's property, he doesn't hesitate to respond aggressively. This trust is useful, because we can react a lot more quickly when the information comes to us instantaneously—but as Rydell learns, it is dangerous too. The same thing happens today, with hackers posting fake releases about celebrity deaths on legitimate news websites. So this is a very interesting phenomenon that we, as a society, are still struggling to adapt to, and I like how Gibson tackles it in Virtual Light.
In many ways this book is also similar to Gibson's "Johnny Mneumonic", of Keanu Reeves infamy. Both feature a courier carrying information that could incite unrest. In Johnny's case, it's hardwired into his brain. In Chevette's case, she appropriates the package as a pair of sunglasses. But the moral remains the same: in a world where we can send a message to someone across the ocean less than the blink of an eye, the only truly secure method of communicate remains a physical package (even if that package is only a one-time pad). As Loveless remarks in Virtual Light:
"Look at her, Rydell. She knows. Even if she's just riding confidential papers around San Francisco, she's a courier. She's entrusted, Rydell. The data becomes a physical thing. She carries it. Don't you carry it, baby?"
She was still as some sphinx, white fingers deep in the gray fabric of the center bucket.
"That's what I do, Rydell. I watch them carry it. I watch them. Sometimes people try to take it from them."
Imagine a map that depicts the world as lights connected by glowing lines—people, or buildings, or cities, connected by digital communication. Zoom in enough, and along the virtual representations of city streets, you will see glowing blue and red dots. These are the couriers, the physical purveyors of digital information. The trusted ones.
I guess ultimately what I'm trying to say here is that I appreciate Virtual Light for the way it raises relevant, contemporary issues about existing in the digital era. As always, Gibson's observations are a combination of chilling and seductive, with a little bit of edgy humour thrown in. There's Reverend Fallon's cult of Christians who believe they will find God in old movies, and the cult that worships Shapely, a man whose non-lethal strain of HIV resulted in a vaccine. Some of these subplots don't seem explored as fully as they could have been considering how much time Gibson devotes to them. Shapely's story in particular perplexes me, for we learn it all through exposition that seems otherwise unconnected from the rest of the narrative. Why is it all that important? I'm probably missing something larger here.
That being said, I can at least see how it works with Virtual Light's presentation of the rift between the various classes of American society. There's the sleek, slightly antiseptic feel of Karen Mendelsohn; the creepy vibe of the man we never see, Cody Harwood; the domineering little shit that is Lowell; the valiant, heroic, yet tragic Skinner; and of course, the working class: Rydell, Chevette, Sublett, et al. Karen treats Rydell as hot stuff while he is the best thing Cops in Trouble have going, but the moment a higher-profile opportunity arises, she kicks him to the curb. The people who want the data on those sunglasses kept secret, the people like Cody Harwood, do not hesitate to kill lesser people like Rydell and Chevette. And of course, there's the bridge.
People living on a ravaged Bay Bridge, having transformed it into an actual community, is a vision right out of something like The Wind-Up Girl, some sort of post-apocalyptic world gone mad. One might expect to see a little less civilization, and that's certainly what some of the minor characters in Virtual Light suggest. Warbaby gives Rydell a description of the Bridge community that Chevette and Skinner patently belie, and it's not entirely clear whether Warbaby actually believes this bit of bigotry or whether he's just coldly manipulating Rydell. (I suspect the latter, but with Gibson I'm not going to bet anything I value on it.) The Bridge community is intriguing, and I would have liked to learn more about it. But of course, that's what the other two books in this trilogy are for.
Virtual Light is not as stunning as Neuromancer, and it deserves the criticism levelled at its story and structure. I reject the idea that this is a bad novel, however, and certainly that this is somehow a lesser work of William Gibson. I think it does something useful and interesting, from its portrayal of hackers to the importance of securing the information that comes into Rydell and Chevette's possession. It might not do this as artfully or as skilfully as I would like, but it is still a fascinating piece of science fiction.
Except, of course, that it is no longer science fiction. Sure, the specifics of this 1990s novel, set in 2005, did not come to pass—but all of the issues Gibson raises are things we are confronting, or will soon confront, in our present decade. Virtual Light is a noteworthy example of how science fiction does not need to predict the future in order to predict the problems we will be facing and prompt us to ponder solutions before it's too late. As usual, William Gibson demonstrates that science fiction is valuable.
My reviews of the Bridge trilogy:
Idoru →
July 12, 2012
The last time I read this book was in the mid-90s. It came out in 1993, nine years after Gibson's Neuromancer, the novel that coined the phrase "cyberspace" and posited a world where we'd all be interconnected through an information network. He was wrong about the virtual reality stuff, but right about almost everything else. If Neuromancer was somewhat predictive of the future, Virtual Light reads like someone had gone to the future of 2005 and sent a postcard back to us.
Reading it now and reading it in 1995 are two different experiences. Back then, I read this and saw a future that was advanced, but full of sickness and decay. I saw some hope because humans had ingenuity, but despair because of waste and pollution. Now, I read it and it seems that we're only a few years away from things like the disappearance of the middle class, the privatization of public space, the adulteration of natural resources, and the occupying of space by squatters who turn unused space into a living space.
It's the future, AIDS has been cured, but new diseases pop up. Journalism and entertainment have merged to give us shows like Cops in Trouble, a show that Fox would be proud to show. Berry Rydell was a cop in trouble because he shot a guy who held his family hostage, and was subsequently sued by said family for his trouble. But in the midst of all this, a new story comes up about a cop who shoots a serial killer that preys on children and Rydell becomes yesterday's news before his story hits the air. Trapped in Los Angeles, Rydell again becomes a victim of circumstance and computer hackers as he gets fired and ends up working as a driver for a bounty hunter in San Francisco.
Chevette Washington lives on the Bay Bridge in San Francisco (the suspension side, not the cantilever side; it makes a difference in the book). She's in her early 20s, a ward of the state who was abandoned by her mother, and who made it from an orphanage in Oregon with barbed wire surrounding it, to NoCal and was taken in by Skinner, an old man who was there when the homeless occupied the bridge. In the book, she's lived there for some time and is a bike messenger. Some guy at a party she accidentally walked into hit on her in an obnoxious way and she stole a pair of very valuable glasses from him to shut him up. These aren't ordinary glasses though. They act as both MacGuffin and object through which social commentary on gentrification is dispersed.
Rydell and Chevette's paths cross. And that's what this book is about. Intersections. Just as the Bay Bridge becomes a living place that used to connect two cities but is now a place where many people's lives connect, we also see what happens when rich and poor meet, when technology and art meet, and when reality and entertainment meet. Gibson not only wrote a good story, but could predict things like the rise and fall of the Euro, the use of drones by law enforcement, and the shrinking of the middle class, and make them only passing mentions in this book to add color and background to the story.
While reading, I saw I had used many of his conventions in stories I have written, but forgotten where they'd come from. Things like jumping in time chronologically, using objects for something different than they had been intended for, and characters with convoluted pasts dealing with the situations they find themselves in now, are themes I recognize in my writing. But ultimately, that's what good writing comes down to. You write something that other writers "steal" without realizing they have "stolen" it. Like the bridge in the story, it all melds together to form a new place, a new setting, and a new way to look at things. This look at the "future" of 2005 helps us to see our present in a new way.
Reading it now and reading it in 1995 are two different experiences. Back then, I read this and saw a future that was advanced, but full of sickness and decay. I saw some hope because humans had ingenuity, but despair because of waste and pollution. Now, I read it and it seems that we're only a few years away from things like the disappearance of the middle class, the privatization of public space, the adulteration of natural resources, and the occupying of space by squatters who turn unused space into a living space.
It's the future, AIDS has been cured, but new diseases pop up. Journalism and entertainment have merged to give us shows like Cops in Trouble, a show that Fox would be proud to show. Berry Rydell was a cop in trouble because he shot a guy who held his family hostage, and was subsequently sued by said family for his trouble. But in the midst of all this, a new story comes up about a cop who shoots a serial killer that preys on children and Rydell becomes yesterday's news before his story hits the air. Trapped in Los Angeles, Rydell again becomes a victim of circumstance and computer hackers as he gets fired and ends up working as a driver for a bounty hunter in San Francisco.
Chevette Washington lives on the Bay Bridge in San Francisco (the suspension side, not the cantilever side; it makes a difference in the book). She's in her early 20s, a ward of the state who was abandoned by her mother, and who made it from an orphanage in Oregon with barbed wire surrounding it, to NoCal and was taken in by Skinner, an old man who was there when the homeless occupied the bridge. In the book, she's lived there for some time and is a bike messenger. Some guy at a party she accidentally walked into hit on her in an obnoxious way and she stole a pair of very valuable glasses from him to shut him up. These aren't ordinary glasses though. They act as both MacGuffin and object through which social commentary on gentrification is dispersed.
Rydell and Chevette's paths cross. And that's what this book is about. Intersections. Just as the Bay Bridge becomes a living place that used to connect two cities but is now a place where many people's lives connect, we also see what happens when rich and poor meet, when technology and art meet, and when reality and entertainment meet. Gibson not only wrote a good story, but could predict things like the rise and fall of the Euro, the use of drones by law enforcement, and the shrinking of the middle class, and make them only passing mentions in this book to add color and background to the story.
While reading, I saw I had used many of his conventions in stories I have written, but forgotten where they'd come from. Things like jumping in time chronologically, using objects for something different than they had been intended for, and characters with convoluted pasts dealing with the situations they find themselves in now, are themes I recognize in my writing. But ultimately, that's what good writing comes down to. You write something that other writers "steal" without realizing they have "stolen" it. Like the bridge in the story, it all melds together to form a new place, a new setting, and a new way to look at things. This look at the "future" of 2005 helps us to see our present in a new way.
February 25, 2009
Read "Snow Crash" by Neal Stephenson instead.
October 14, 2015
Great sociological science fiction with a cool vibe and, in my opinion, a vast improvement over Gibson's previous Sprawl trilogy. Some scary observations on 90's culture and crackling prose with a cool kind of dialogue for Gibson's characters. A brilliant piece of cyberpunk literature.
March 23, 2017
If Haruki Murakami and Philip K Dick had ever written a book together this would have been it (they didn't have no baby or anything though). To me it felt like Philip's story but in the voice of Murakami.
My first William Gibson novel and I've enjoyed it, he has created an interesting future, things are only slightly more advanced than they are now which makes it easier to get into. There are a fair number of characters, all having little bit parts, I only really had an issue with one of then, Yamazaki, I could see the point of including him, was he telling the story or not? The setting was brilliant, the bridge and how it had been built on was described so well I was able to picture it in me head with ease.
Glad to see that this is down as book one, should mean I'll get to read about the characters again. woooo
My first William Gibson novel and I've enjoyed it, he has created an interesting future, things are only slightly more advanced than they are now which makes it easier to get into. There are a fair number of characters, all having little bit parts, I only really had an issue with one of then, Yamazaki, I could see the point of including him, was he telling the story or not? The setting was brilliant, the bridge and how it had been built on was described so well I was able to picture it in me head with ease.
Glad to see that this is down as book one, should mean I'll get to read about the characters again. woooo
May 31, 2020
In Virtual Light, William Gibson dials down the cyberpunk motifs nearly to zero and what's left is a noirish cat and mouse chase. Gibson's novels often feature individuals caught up in grand, mostly offscreen machinations. This time they were too offscreen for my taste, or perhaps the characters weren't interesting enough for me. I would have liked to see more of the Bridge community. All in all, I didn't love it, sorry.
March 11, 2018
Having read about 70% of Gibson's work, I'd have to say, this is one of my favorites.
Tight plot. Rapid movement and action. Dystopian, but not too depressingly so (sort of). Well done book, looking forward to the rest of the trilogy.
Tight plot. Rapid movement and action. Dystopian, but not too depressingly so (sort of). Well done book, looking forward to the rest of the trilogy.
October 22, 2023
This is a cyberpunk novel written a decade after cyberpunk was ‘the next big thing’, first published in 1993. It's the first book in the Bridge Trilogy. I read it as a part of the monthly reading for October 2023 at Hugo & Nebula Awards: Best Novels group. The novel was nominated for Hugo and Locus in 1994.
The story starts with some guy at a hotel, a courier in Mexico City, who after wandering aimlessly wears high-tech eyeglasses to have virtual sex, while the world behind his luxury suit burns. Then the true story begins, with Berry Rydell, a young cop riding with his partner Sublett, a refugee from some weird trailer-camp video-sect. They do their job, but something goes wrong and Rydell’s career is changed. Then we shift to Chevette Washington, a courier on a pumped-up bike, who delivers stuff and lives in the Bridge – after a massive earthquake that has reshaped the landscape of Frisco and LA, people live in towers of San Francisco–Oakland Bay Bridge. Chevette isn’t a criminal, but when she delivers her last package for the day and gets irritated by a drunk wealthy European, in pure spite she steals something from his pocket. Don’t follow her example, kids!
This is a weird gritty, post-cyberpunk vision of California, by 2005, the year of the story, split into NoCal and SoCal. However, actually, it exaggerates to absurd problems of the early 1990s USA with crack, youth gangs and skyrocketed crime.
The story has its good sides, but overall it hasn’t worked for me – a lot of trying to be poetic description, some new words like ‘proj’ a dystopian atmosphere.
The story starts with some guy at a hotel, a courier in Mexico City, who after wandering aimlessly wears high-tech eyeglasses to have virtual sex, while the world behind his luxury suit burns. Then the true story begins, with Berry Rydell, a young cop riding with his partner Sublett, a refugee from some weird trailer-camp video-sect. They do their job, but something goes wrong and Rydell’s career is changed. Then we shift to Chevette Washington, a courier on a pumped-up bike, who delivers stuff and lives in the Bridge – after a massive earthquake that has reshaped the landscape of Frisco and LA, people live in towers of San Francisco–Oakland Bay Bridge. Chevette isn’t a criminal, but when she delivers her last package for the day and gets irritated by a drunk wealthy European, in pure spite she steals something from his pocket. Don’t follow her example, kids!
This is a weird gritty, post-cyberpunk vision of California, by 2005, the year of the story, split into NoCal and SoCal. However, actually, it exaggerates to absurd problems of the early 1990s USA with crack, youth gangs and skyrocketed crime.
The story has its good sides, but overall it hasn’t worked for me – a lot of trying to be poetic description, some new words like ‘proj’ a dystopian atmosphere.
February 2, 2012
Reading something like this after something like Snow Crash can only really leave you feeling one thing. There's no real comparison. This is basically Snow Crash Lite.
William Gibson wrote an occasionally entertaining novel of an interesting possible future with some very good observations about humanity BUT it's characters and story structure are so similar to Neal Stephenson's masterpiece of the genre that you can't help but compare. Virtual Light will always lose, not least because Berry Rydell is no Hiro Protagonist.
Aside from the brief touches on cyber technology and the near future setting this could easily have been just another political/crime thriller about some form of mafia/drug cartel and crooked congressman and the plucky law students who stumble upon the truth of their evil scheme and must save the day before McDonalds eats their soul (see The Pelican Brief which from my memories of reading as a 13 year old was actually better than this book.)
I recently read Savages which this book reminded me of in some ways but again whilst Savages was exciting and raw Virtual Light was positively tame.
This being the first book in a trilogy, I must admit to having read Idoru first. I cannot see how the sequel relates to the world created in this first book in any way, unless it was set quite a long time afterwards. The third part apparently contains characters from the first two books so perhaps that will enlighten me. But not for a while I think.
William Gibson wrote an occasionally entertaining novel of an interesting possible future with some very good observations about humanity BUT it's characters and story structure are so similar to Neal Stephenson's masterpiece of the genre that you can't help but compare. Virtual Light will always lose, not least because Berry Rydell is no Hiro Protagonist.
Aside from the brief touches on cyber technology and the near future setting this could easily have been just another political/crime thriller about some form of mafia/drug cartel and crooked congressman and the plucky law students who stumble upon the truth of their evil scheme and must save the day before McDonalds eats their soul (see The Pelican Brief which from my memories of reading as a 13 year old was actually better than this book.)
I recently read Savages which this book reminded me of in some ways but again whilst Savages was exciting and raw Virtual Light was positively tame.
This being the first book in a trilogy, I must admit to having read Idoru first. I cannot see how the sequel relates to the world created in this first book in any way, unless it was set quite a long time afterwards. The third part apparently contains characters from the first two books so perhaps that will enlighten me. But not for a while I think.
July 23, 2014
Okay, here's the thing: this book is FUN. Essentially you have a good cop accidentally getting railroaded, a good poor person who makes one mistake and pays the price, and then some evil corporation stuff and then it's just a fun little chase. Light, slight, well-written and fun. You get to hear about the near future Gibson imagined, which is interesting, you get to see some really interesting main protagonists, who are more fully fleshed out and intriguing than usually happens with these things, and there are some very well written action sequences, as well as a clever ending.
But that's it. There is nothing here. There are some satirical jabs at religion that feel entirely puerile; there are evil corporations and their schemes, but that feels entirely hollow, as well as overly twist the mustache villainesque; there is literally a scene in which a character says I'm not racist, and I have the tests to prove it but... (WHAT? WHY?); there is a cure from AIDS that feels simple even for how stupidly simple it is, and doesn't really fit into any sort of thematic package with the chase them or corporate conspiracy angle; there is a discussion about the rich and the displaced, but it is mangled, like the memory of an old man in the story, and has no sense or reason, even as a basic human response to outside stimuli.
It TRIES to be about other things, but there are too many, too shallowly discussed, too randomly tossed in, to actually mean anything. Oh well. It's a fun little story.
But that's it. There is nothing here. There are some satirical jabs at religion that feel entirely puerile; there are evil corporations and their schemes, but that feels entirely hollow, as well as overly twist the mustache villainesque; there is literally a scene in which a character says I'm not racist, and I have the tests to prove it but... (WHAT? WHY?); there is a cure from AIDS that feels simple even for how stupidly simple it is, and doesn't really fit into any sort of thematic package with the chase them or corporate conspiracy angle; there is a discussion about the rich and the displaced, but it is mangled, like the memory of an old man in the story, and has no sense or reason, even as a basic human response to outside stimuli.
It TRIES to be about other things, but there are too many, too shallowly discussed, too randomly tossed in, to actually mean anything. Oh well. It's a fun little story.
January 1, 2020
Great read, but more like an action thriller than the cyberpunk Matrixy stuff I like. As always, Gibson pleased with his unique rhythmic-technical, beat-poet style. I liked the characters. Some of the religious overtones reminded me of P.K. Dick, particularly the world of Palmer Eldritch.
Anyways, still a joy to read this man.
Anyways, still a joy to read this man.
July 29, 2018
Bene pras... ne, paprasčiausia maestro knyga. Neįmantrus bad future bajavičiokas, kuris tačiaugi susiskaitė lengvai ir greitai. Aišku tikėjaus iš pirmos The Bridge trilogijos knygos aš daugiau ir todėl tik mažiukas #Recom nuo #LEBooks #VirtualLight
March 16, 2021
Ever imagine being the first one on your block to own the hot new technology? Now imagine everyone being so envious of you that they chase after you endlessly, hound you into seclusion and for good measure hire bounty hunters proficient in a wide variety of firearms. Maybe you didn't need that phone upgrade as badly as you thought.
William Gibson is, probably through no fault of his own, the inspiration for a lot of good and bad SF, as well as the reason for a lot of people assuming our bodies are really hooked up to giant nutrient vats overseen by our tentacled overlords. I first read his initial trilogy years ago in college during a phase that can best be described as "attempting to absorb the entire history of SF in my spare time". As "Neuromancer" was seen an immortal milestone that evoked the future so well it somehow managed to reach into the past to facilitate its own creation, I plunged in and was blown away . . . by the prose (the opening line is still of my favorites in literature). But while it was eerie that even back in the eighties he was able to convincingly evoke a feel for a world that didn't exist yet but felt like it was about to I didn't find the plot quite as memorable as the setting. Maybe I wasn't ready for it, maybe my brain was stuffed with too much organic chemistry and thus not quite grasping all the nuances but you can call me stubborn all you want, I'm still not totally convinced it was my fault. Interestingly the other two books in the trilogy dialed down the atmosphere slightly but upped the coherency of the plot and I found those more to my liking (amusingly a friend of mine had the opposite reaction).
And then I stayed away from Gibson for years. It wasn't anything against the guy, I felt I had gotten all I came for with those three books and there wasn't any compelling need for me to experience more . . . cyberpunk was never a genre I really warmed to (other than Bruce Sterling) and I was distracted by more important things like apparently trying to read every "Doctor Who" book in existence. But at some point I must have been curious because working through my queue and lo and behold I find the entire "Bridge Trilogy" here. And while we're both older, Gibson reportedly wrote "Neuromancer" on a typewriter and I'm writing this with a keyboard that sounds an awful lot like one so maybe we have more in common now than we once did when I was hiding in the basement of a college library computer lab surrounded by terminals that aren't as powerful as what people routinely carry in their pockets.
Coming back, to some extent its like I never left. "Virtual Light" takes place in what was then the far future of 2005 (which now sounds like the halcyon days of yore where the streets were paved with gold and all our problems were solved with hugs and a handshake) where California, instead of doing what everyone expected and sliding into the ocean (or leaving the earth in a giant boat powered by good vibes), has split into northern and southern sister states (and it doesn't sound like the rest of the country is doing so hot either). Much like our future, the rich are super-rich and don't rub it in our faces so much as hire people to do the face-rubbing, while pure information remains the hottest commodity understood by everyone except for that one guy who hoarded Beanie Babies because he was convinced they'd make a comeback. Hey, even a dystopia has to have some hope.
Into this come our two main characters. Berry Rydell has an extensive resume but only because he keeps getting fired from jobs, not always due to his own fault. His latest job has him working for a bounty hunter, which will cause his path to cross with Chevette, a plucky and streetwise bike messenger living by nerve and wits (otherwise known as the cyberpunk version of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl). She's gone and opened her own can of mega-oops by stealing the stylish sunglasses of some rude rich dude during a party where she had to deliver something. Returning the glasses would go a long way toward making this all better except that the rich snob is dead and the glasses are showing something that everyone wants and are willing to bring out the ordinance to get. Hint: it has nothing to with fashion although glasses that are slimming or give me washboard abs would be worth paying off the cops and sending out hired killers. But in this new world nobody really understands priorities.
If you think this would lead to a madcap chase through the less known underbelly of the city forcing our cast to interact with a variety of folks living on the edge of the law, often with specific skillsets the characters right around that time, then you've probably read about as many cyberpunk novels as I have, although he does mix it up by sticking the underbelly on top of a grimy bridge. Fortunately what Gibson does understand is atmosphere and he heaps on gobs of it, lathering every scene with the misfit love child of "Blade Runner", Raymond Chandler and a really gritty version of "Hair". His eye for all the small but telling details of a world, what they wear, what vehicles they drive, how the buildings have gone to pieces, even the new slang in how they talk and relate to each other, is apparent on every page, no more so than his depiction of the aforementioned giant community that has sprung up on the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge, a group of people that exist off the grid and in strange balance each other. What could be nothing more than a cyberpunk cosplay convention winds up having real weight to it as Gibson takes us through a world that has figured out its own rules in how to function and everyone involved has developed a certain implied understanding about how it all works.
For me the book works the best when the different factions that exist in this world that normally barely interact rub up uneasily against each other and have to figure out what the hell to do about it. Whether its the bridge community, the police, the off-the-books police, the hacking rings, the shady kids who feel important because they have connections to the hacking rings, or the people who are just surviving, he gives the impression of a world where everyone tries to avoid each other except when they absolutely have no choice and even then its about taking advantage as best you can. And if that involves blowing up stuff, then so be it. Its a world that pulses with its own dark toned music and to me doesn't seem to bog the story down too much, although one could argue that since there isn't much story to bog down, you might as well stop and absorb the scenery.
Those looking further than the scenery might be wondering what the fuss is all about. Gibson never pretended to be predicting the future and while the gritty grey morality of it feels like today, setting it in a date that was thirteen years after the book was published (and thus plausibly near) but now almost thirteen years behind us (and thus like a hundred years ago to anyone reading it now who was born around then) makes it feel like some strange alternate universe where life got worse without the gauzy comfort of nostalgia for sitcoms and indie rock bands to fall back on. It doesn't help that the MacGuffin of the plot, the stolen glasses, doesn't work that hard to justify why everyone goes nuts to hunt it down. Anyone looking through sees plans for a future that I guess would be nice to possess but for all the running around and scheming that results it sure seems like a lot of effort for a piece of technology that was just past cutting edge when the book was written but is now so commonplace that we have commercials featuring senior citizens oooh and aahing while staring through them.
If it succeeds, and I think it does for the most part, it does so on the incredible amount of style points that Gibson dispenses with frightening ease. He's got a talent for keeping things moving and more than a lot of his contemporaries he has a way with words and shading along with a sly sense of humor that never makes the story feel as super-serious as his imitators sometimes could get, yet he never goes all out satirically goofy either (I enjoyed the glimpse of the Christian sect based around movies). Sure, it seems like the entire story takes place at night and everyone is wearing black on top of black but there's a slight acknowledgement of how ridiculous this is at times by the characters themselves that at least makes it go down easier. And when one of your spinoff adventures could conceivably be called "The Adventures of Lucius Warbaby and Freddie" taking it with just a little pinch of salt, virtual or otherwise, might be warranted.
William Gibson is, probably through no fault of his own, the inspiration for a lot of good and bad SF, as well as the reason for a lot of people assuming our bodies are really hooked up to giant nutrient vats overseen by our tentacled overlords. I first read his initial trilogy years ago in college during a phase that can best be described as "attempting to absorb the entire history of SF in my spare time". As "Neuromancer" was seen an immortal milestone that evoked the future so well it somehow managed to reach into the past to facilitate its own creation, I plunged in and was blown away . . . by the prose (the opening line is still of my favorites in literature). But while it was eerie that even back in the eighties he was able to convincingly evoke a feel for a world that didn't exist yet but felt like it was about to I didn't find the plot quite as memorable as the setting. Maybe I wasn't ready for it, maybe my brain was stuffed with too much organic chemistry and thus not quite grasping all the nuances but you can call me stubborn all you want, I'm still not totally convinced it was my fault. Interestingly the other two books in the trilogy dialed down the atmosphere slightly but upped the coherency of the plot and I found those more to my liking (amusingly a friend of mine had the opposite reaction).
And then I stayed away from Gibson for years. It wasn't anything against the guy, I felt I had gotten all I came for with those three books and there wasn't any compelling need for me to experience more . . . cyberpunk was never a genre I really warmed to (other than Bruce Sterling) and I was distracted by more important things like apparently trying to read every "Doctor Who" book in existence. But at some point I must have been curious because working through my queue and lo and behold I find the entire "Bridge Trilogy" here. And while we're both older, Gibson reportedly wrote "Neuromancer" on a typewriter and I'm writing this with a keyboard that sounds an awful lot like one so maybe we have more in common now than we once did when I was hiding in the basement of a college library computer lab surrounded by terminals that aren't as powerful as what people routinely carry in their pockets.
Coming back, to some extent its like I never left. "Virtual Light" takes place in what was then the far future of 2005 (which now sounds like the halcyon days of yore where the streets were paved with gold and all our problems were solved with hugs and a handshake) where California, instead of doing what everyone expected and sliding into the ocean (or leaving the earth in a giant boat powered by good vibes), has split into northern and southern sister states (and it doesn't sound like the rest of the country is doing so hot either). Much like our future, the rich are super-rich and don't rub it in our faces so much as hire people to do the face-rubbing, while pure information remains the hottest commodity understood by everyone except for that one guy who hoarded Beanie Babies because he was convinced they'd make a comeback. Hey, even a dystopia has to have some hope.
Into this come our two main characters. Berry Rydell has an extensive resume but only because he keeps getting fired from jobs, not always due to his own fault. His latest job has him working for a bounty hunter, which will cause his path to cross with Chevette, a plucky and streetwise bike messenger living by nerve and wits (otherwise known as the cyberpunk version of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl). She's gone and opened her own can of mega-oops by stealing the stylish sunglasses of some rude rich dude during a party where she had to deliver something. Returning the glasses would go a long way toward making this all better except that the rich snob is dead and the glasses are showing something that everyone wants and are willing to bring out the ordinance to get. Hint: it has nothing to with fashion although glasses that are slimming or give me washboard abs would be worth paying off the cops and sending out hired killers. But in this new world nobody really understands priorities.
If you think this would lead to a madcap chase through the less known underbelly of the city forcing our cast to interact with a variety of folks living on the edge of the law, often with specific skillsets the characters right around that time, then you've probably read about as many cyberpunk novels as I have, although he does mix it up by sticking the underbelly on top of a grimy bridge. Fortunately what Gibson does understand is atmosphere and he heaps on gobs of it, lathering every scene with the misfit love child of "Blade Runner", Raymond Chandler and a really gritty version of "Hair". His eye for all the small but telling details of a world, what they wear, what vehicles they drive, how the buildings have gone to pieces, even the new slang in how they talk and relate to each other, is apparent on every page, no more so than his depiction of the aforementioned giant community that has sprung up on the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge, a group of people that exist off the grid and in strange balance each other. What could be nothing more than a cyberpunk cosplay convention winds up having real weight to it as Gibson takes us through a world that has figured out its own rules in how to function and everyone involved has developed a certain implied understanding about how it all works.
For me the book works the best when the different factions that exist in this world that normally barely interact rub up uneasily against each other and have to figure out what the hell to do about it. Whether its the bridge community, the police, the off-the-books police, the hacking rings, the shady kids who feel important because they have connections to the hacking rings, or the people who are just surviving, he gives the impression of a world where everyone tries to avoid each other except when they absolutely have no choice and even then its about taking advantage as best you can. And if that involves blowing up stuff, then so be it. Its a world that pulses with its own dark toned music and to me doesn't seem to bog the story down too much, although one could argue that since there isn't much story to bog down, you might as well stop and absorb the scenery.
Those looking further than the scenery might be wondering what the fuss is all about. Gibson never pretended to be predicting the future and while the gritty grey morality of it feels like today, setting it in a date that was thirteen years after the book was published (and thus plausibly near) but now almost thirteen years behind us (and thus like a hundred years ago to anyone reading it now who was born around then) makes it feel like some strange alternate universe where life got worse without the gauzy comfort of nostalgia for sitcoms and indie rock bands to fall back on. It doesn't help that the MacGuffin of the plot, the stolen glasses, doesn't work that hard to justify why everyone goes nuts to hunt it down. Anyone looking through sees plans for a future that I guess would be nice to possess but for all the running around and scheming that results it sure seems like a lot of effort for a piece of technology that was just past cutting edge when the book was written but is now so commonplace that we have commercials featuring senior citizens oooh and aahing while staring through them.
If it succeeds, and I think it does for the most part, it does so on the incredible amount of style points that Gibson dispenses with frightening ease. He's got a talent for keeping things moving and more than a lot of his contemporaries he has a way with words and shading along with a sly sense of humor that never makes the story feel as super-serious as his imitators sometimes could get, yet he never goes all out satirically goofy either (I enjoyed the glimpse of the Christian sect based around movies). Sure, it seems like the entire story takes place at night and everyone is wearing black on top of black but there's a slight acknowledgement of how ridiculous this is at times by the characters themselves that at least makes it go down easier. And when one of your spinoff adventures could conceivably be called "The Adventures of Lucius Warbaby and Freddie" taking it with just a little pinch of salt, virtual or otherwise, might be warranted.
September 2, 2024
Якось дочитав😓 Ще початок норм був, а далі повна фігня. Дуже нудно, неякі персонажі, сюжет простий та ледь рухається, все так повільно відбувається та і взагалі не цікаво. Продовження точно не буду читати.
March 31, 2009
Probably the least engaging book of Gibson I have read so far, this one is a very competent story with great storytelling that somehow fails to deliver on the plot-plot. I mean, it was fun and fast paced and interesting and an interpretation of our social future, and it had lots of interesting background choices of historical events and crazy urban tribes and religions created for the universe, along with Gibson's trademark shifting POVs and archetypal characters. It was good, it was fun, it was interesting, but it didn't have the oomph that other of his stories had for me.
This might be because the central plot, the theft of a device that contains information about an urban development, wasn't exactly... well, it wasn't half as interesting as the story of the bridge, or the story of Shapely and how he was the key to the cure for AIDS, or Tokyo's Godzilla earthquake and further rebuilding.. it's like, out of a book full of amazing stories to be told, and the central one isn't quite as interesting. Still, the characters are a lot of fun, I loved Sammy Sal, and it was all very action-y. Would be a really awesome movie, given all the amazing visuals Gibson works into it.
I sound kind of discouraged by this one but I actually enjoyed it quite a lot! just.. not as much as the others, I guess. It will probably build up and more of this will be explored in the other two books of the trilogy.
This might be because the central plot, the theft of a device that contains information about an urban development, wasn't exactly... well, it wasn't half as interesting as the story of the bridge, or the story of Shapely and how he was the key to the cure for AIDS, or Tokyo's Godzilla earthquake and further rebuilding.. it's like, out of a book full of amazing stories to be told, and the central one isn't quite as interesting. Still, the characters are a lot of fun, I loved Sammy Sal, and it was all very action-y. Would be a really awesome movie, given all the amazing visuals Gibson works into it.
I sound kind of discouraged by this one but I actually enjoyed it quite a lot! just.. not as much as the others, I guess. It will probably build up and more of this will be explored in the other two books of the trilogy.
July 10, 2021
1.5 out of five stars
Frankly, I was only able to follow about 25% of the plot and dialogue. The remaining time, I was completely lost.
I suppose if you truly enjoy cyberpunk than you will like this much more than I did.
Frankly, I was only able to follow about 25% of the plot and dialogue. The remaining time, I was completely lost.
I suppose if you truly enjoy cyberpunk than you will like this much more than I did.
September 24, 2020
I'm so on the fence...made this one more approachable, more a count zero, than neuro...does provide some great descriptions minimally, I guess that's postmodern... he's great like that. If you take out the tech stuff, made up words, would it stand as a current time crime/noirish novel?. it would...well that's his schtick...can't help compare this cali to scanner darker cali since the dystopia background is really the whole novel...while comparing you see how VL characters make it hard to believe their so innocent and blasé, read it in another review, 'naive charisma'. They are a bit flat to me...40s noir novels have more cynicism and street smarts than Chevette and Rydell...hard to think in this dystopia,they dont more "oompf"...Really dunno why Skinner, scooter exists. But I like Gibson, his overall dystopia does eventually match up with 2020.
December 9, 2015
Παρόλες τις εξαιρετικές περιγραφές δε βρήκα καποια εξισου ισχυρή αφήγηση ιστορίας. ηταν σαν να ξετυλιγες πολλά κουβάρια και στο τέλος τα έβρισκες άσχημα μπλεγμενα.
ο συγγραφέας ξεκινά με το στησιμο του κοσμου του ο οποιος ειναι αρκετα παρων καθ' όλη την αναγνωση. υστερα αρχίζει να διαγραφεται αχνα μια ιστορια η οποια ωστόσο δεν εχει αρκετή συνοχή ή ένταση οσο ο ιδιος χωρος. επειτα αλλαζει η ροη αφήγησης αναλογα με την οπτικη καθε προσωπου. το αποτελεσμα ειναι καπως χλιαρό, όπως οταν βλέπεις μια ταινια και δεν ακους τους διαλογους αλλα το σαουντρακ. τρια αστερια μόνο και μονο για την ερευνα που φαινεται πως εχει γινει επανω στη πολεοδομικη δυστοπια και την οικειοποιηση εγκαταλελειμμενων χώρων- υποδομών
ο συγγραφέας ξεκινά με το στησιμο του κοσμου του ο οποιος ειναι αρκετα παρων καθ' όλη την αναγνωση. υστερα αρχίζει να διαγραφεται αχνα μια ιστορια η οποια ωστόσο δεν εχει αρκετή συνοχή ή ένταση οσο ο ιδιος χωρος. επειτα αλλαζει η ροη αφήγησης αναλογα με την οπτικη καθε προσωπου. το αποτελεσμα ειναι καπως χλιαρό, όπως οταν βλέπεις μια ταινια και δεν ακους τους διαλογους αλλα το σαουντρακ. τρια αστερια μόνο και μονο για την ερευνα που φαινεται πως εχει γινει επανω στη πολεοδομικη δυστοπια και την οικειοποιηση εγκαταλελειμμενων χώρων- υποδομών
August 4, 2024
Too bleak for me
Virtual Light is the first novel in William Gibson's Bridge trilogy, published from 1993-1999 after his huge success with the Cyberspace trilogy (1984-1988). The Bridge trilogy is not, in my opinion, as good as the Cyberspace trilogy.
The structure of Virtual Light is similar to that of the Cyberspace novels -- each chapter is told from the point of view of one character, and the POV character rotates through four principle characters. These are Chevette Washington, a young woman (teenager?), Berry Rydell, a former policeman turned security guard, a data courier, whose name I am not sure we ever learn, and Yamazaki, a Japanese sociology grad student studying San Francisco culture. Most of the action takes place in the San Francisco Bay Area. It's a postapocalyptic world. The nature of the apocalypse is not spelled out, although several elements of it are sketchily described. The USA no longer really exists as such -- it, like most of the world's large nations, has broken down into smaller countries.
It's a world in which everyone is hanging on by a thread, except for those who aren't. Much of the action takes place on the Bridge, after which the series is presumably named. There are several bridges around and across the Bay. The longest is the Bay Bridge that connects the cities of San Francisco and Oakland. Although it is never named in the novel, this is the one that became the Bridge. It appears to be largely intact, though no longer useful as a road. Instead, it has become the home of a feral culture of hundreds or thousands of people who manage to eke out a life there. Chevette is one of these.
The Cyberspace trilogy was bleak, but Virtual Light is bleaker. Also, there are no interesting new inventions, like Cyberspace. In fact, Virtual Light had the misfortune of being overtaken by reality. The telephones of Virtual Light are early 1990s flip phones -- Gibson did not envision anything like the modern cell-phone culture and social media. I read Idoru, the second book, years ago, and the only thing I remember is that I didn't enjoy it much. I will not be rereading it, nor the third book, All Tomorrow's Parties.
Blog review.
Virtual Light is the first novel in William Gibson's Bridge trilogy, published from 1993-1999 after his huge success with the Cyberspace trilogy (1984-1988). The Bridge trilogy is not, in my opinion, as good as the Cyberspace trilogy.
The structure of Virtual Light is similar to that of the Cyberspace novels -- each chapter is told from the point of view of one character, and the POV character rotates through four principle characters. These are Chevette Washington, a young woman (teenager?), Berry Rydell, a former policeman turned security guard, a data courier, whose name I am not sure we ever learn, and Yamazaki, a Japanese sociology grad student studying San Francisco culture. Most of the action takes place in the San Francisco Bay Area. It's a postapocalyptic world. The nature of the apocalypse is not spelled out, although several elements of it are sketchily described. The USA no longer really exists as such -- it, like most of the world's large nations, has broken down into smaller countries.
It's a world in which everyone is hanging on by a thread, except for those who aren't. Much of the action takes place on the Bridge, after which the series is presumably named. There are several bridges around and across the Bay. The longest is the Bay Bridge that connects the cities of San Francisco and Oakland. Although it is never named in the novel, this is the one that became the Bridge. It appears to be largely intact, though no longer useful as a road. Instead, it has become the home of a feral culture of hundreds or thousands of people who manage to eke out a life there. Chevette is one of these.
The Cyberspace trilogy was bleak, but Virtual Light is bleaker. Also, there are no interesting new inventions, like Cyberspace. In fact, Virtual Light had the misfortune of being overtaken by reality. The telephones of Virtual Light are early 1990s flip phones -- Gibson did not envision anything like the modern cell-phone culture and social media. I read Idoru, the second book, years ago, and the only thing I remember is that I didn't enjoy it much. I will not be rereading it, nor the third book, All Tomorrow's Parties.
Blog review.
December 3, 2017
Storyline: 3/5
Characters: 3/5
Writing Style: ?/5
World: 3/5
Whenever I start a cyberpunk novel, I think, "Oh no, not another one of those." I dread the jagged, clipped sentence structure and the bitingly hip timbre. With Gibson, it at least didn't read as affectation. This was an irascible vision of the future written with bitter resignation of the knowledge of things to come. Not a dystopia warning us off a certain trajectory or an embrace of current trends, the world here is the inevitable consequence of advancing technology on predatory systems. Classic cyberpunk.
As much as I dislike the genre's ostentation, I have to appreciate coming across a sentence like this:
Elsewhere everything was sufficient to the task. The story took a while to get the right players in place, and just when I thought we were finally set up for the slow and steady build-up, Gibson was ratcheting it down and settling in for the resolution. There were some characters, side-stories, and gadgets that were left oddly incomplete. The cyberpunk world, though, was remarkably prescient. I liked this much more than I did Neuromancer, which I think is generally regarded as both his and the genre's seminal novel (Oddly, my cover advertises Gibson as the author of The Difference Engine and Mona Lisa Smile but omits Neuromancer). Neuromancer might have been groundbreaking, but I didn't think that it weathered the technological developments of the internet very well and verges on the side of ridiculous when read post-2000. The worldbuilding here was a much more convincing version of the Sprawl, and the inhabiting characters were both relatable and believable as well. This might not have been as significant as the first in the Sprawl series, but it was a more perfected vision.
I did think it odd to have so many similarities between this and another 1990s cyberpunk novel. That other novel was published first, I was surprised to learn, but not by very much time. Presumably both would have been in the editing phase in the same period. The themes and character roles in this went beyond simple similarity, and I wonder about the story behind that.
Characters: 3/5
Writing Style: ?/5
World: 3/5
Whenever I start a cyberpunk novel, I think, "Oh no, not another one of those." I dread the jagged, clipped sentence structure and the bitingly hip timbre. With Gibson, it at least didn't read as affectation. This was an irascible vision of the future written with bitter resignation of the knowledge of things to come. Not a dystopia warning us off a certain trajectory or an embrace of current trends, the world here is the inevitable consequence of advancing technology on predatory systems. Classic cyberpunk.
As much as I dislike the genre's ostentation, I have to appreciate coming across a sentence like this:
The music, some weird hollow techie stuff that sounded like bombs going off in echo-chambers, started to make a different kind of sense.That's the way to describe a future that hasn't come about yet. Just specific enough to make it vivid but without enough concrete descriptors for it to be identifiable. I could see myself as an old man on the block yelling at the kids to turn the volume down and how could they call that noise music anyhow. To the concrete-grey, oppressive sheen that coats Gibson's future, he'll toss in something like this:
Separated at Birth was a police program you used in missing persons cases. You scanned a photo of the person you wanted, got back the names of half a dozen celebrities who looked vaguely like the subject, then went around asking people if they'd seen anybody lately who reminded them of A, B, C... The weird thing was, it worked better than just showing them a picture of the subject. The instructor at the Academy in Knoxville had told Rydell's class that that was because it tapped into the part of the brain that kept track of celebrities.Funny. Sad. Livens up the story but makes you even more despondent about society. There was enough of that to reward a reader who makes it to the end but not enough to make it the tell-tale mark of the book or writer.
Elsewhere everything was sufficient to the task. The story took a while to get the right players in place, and just when I thought we were finally set up for the slow and steady build-up, Gibson was ratcheting it down and settling in for the resolution. There were some characters, side-stories, and gadgets that were left oddly incomplete. The cyberpunk world, though, was remarkably prescient. I liked this much more than I did Neuromancer, which I think is generally regarded as both his and the genre's seminal novel (Oddly, my cover advertises Gibson as the author of The Difference Engine and Mona Lisa Smile but omits Neuromancer). Neuromancer might have been groundbreaking, but I didn't think that it weathered the technological developments of the internet very well and verges on the side of ridiculous when read post-2000. The worldbuilding here was a much more convincing version of the Sprawl, and the inhabiting characters were both relatable and believable as well. This might not have been as significant as the first in the Sprawl series, but it was a more perfected vision.
I did think it odd to have so many similarities between this and another 1990s cyberpunk novel. That other novel was published first, I was surprised to learn, but not by very much time. Presumably both would have been in the editing phase in the same period. The themes and character roles in this went beyond simple similarity, and I wonder about the story behind that.
August 23, 2017
This is a thriller novel written in a dystopian setting in the near future. As far as the main story goes - a girl, in a pique, steals some special glasses from a guy, which results in her being chased by bad guys and helped by the main character. Standard good cop/bad cop stuff. The only scifi technology introduced of any measure is the glasses and you never get a real feel for what they do. If I am to rate this novel strictly on the main storyline it would get 2 stars...tops.
Then there is the sub-plot. Much time is spent with a character called Skinner who lives in a box atop the Golden gate bridge. Outside of the fact the heroine lives there, and hardly focuses on that, this subplot really goes nowhere in relation to the main story. After reading you think, "What the heck was that all about?"
Where this novel does excel is in the world building. The lurid detail in the novel is really quite good. In rating world building, this novel is a solid 5 star.
Sadly, world building alone is not enough to give a weak story a high rating. My final analysis - 3 stars.
Then there is the sub-plot. Much time is spent with a character called Skinner who lives in a box atop the Golden gate bridge. Outside of the fact the heroine lives there, and hardly focuses on that, this subplot really goes nowhere in relation to the main story. After reading you think, "What the heck was that all about?"
Where this novel does excel is in the world building. The lurid detail in the novel is really quite good. In rating world building, this novel is a solid 5 star.
Sadly, world building alone is not enough to give a weak story a high rating. My final analysis - 3 stars.
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