Showing posts with label Asimov. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Asimov. Show all posts

Friday, February 3, 2012

William Gibson's particular flavor


What writers do you rely on? Whom do you go back to again and again for soul-satisfying poetry or prose?

Such writers seem all the more important as our lives seem to find a sixth gear, despite ourselves. Such writers can help us slow down (just a little), make us think (just a little), make us reflect (just a little).

Have a look at my recent reading list, and you can see a few of my "usual suspects": Milan Kundera, Ray Bradbury, Kurt Vonnegut. And here's someone else I've been revisiting this year: William Gibson.

I read Neuromancer (1984) in school, loved it, and never followed up on it. I guess I was more focused on other key SF titles (Foundation, The Martian Chronicles, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Stranger in a Strange Land, The Dispossessed, etc.) than going terribly deep on this or that author.

But that's starting to change: I just read Bradbury's Zen in the Art of Writing (1990) in an attempt to jump-start some of my own writing; I'm in the midst of picking through Arthur C. Clarke's short-story collection, More Than One Universe (1991), which I wanted to re-read before gifting away; I'm half-way through my Library of America volume of Philip K. Dick novels. So it goes.

I went back to Gibson this year: first with the future-past, post 9/11 novel Pattern Recognition (2003), and now with the collection of short nonfiction Distrust That Particular Flavor (2012). I got Flavor home from the library yesterday, and I find myself already 1/4th of the way through it...

You get Gibson's homage to Takeshi Kitano, entitled "The Baddest Dude on Earth," originally written for Time Asia in 2002. You get Gibson bluffing a vision of "The Web" in Rolling Stone circa 1989. And you get amazing little nuggets popped off to Forbes (of all places) you really never had a chance to see otherwise.

Here, in "Dead Man Sings" (1998), he opens with a thought that reverberates Milan Kundera's Book of Laughter and Forgetting (1978):

Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

If you're a fan of William Gibson, you need to check this one out. If you're not a fan of William Gibson, you still need to check this one out.

Busy, busy, busy.