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Sprawl #2
Count Zero
William Gibson continues the visionary Sprawl Trilogy that began with Neuromancer in this frighteningly probable parable of the future.
A corporate mercenary wakes in a reconstructed body, a beautiful woman by his side. Then Hosaka Corporation reactivates him, for a mission more dangerous than the one he’s recovering to get a defecting chief of R&D—and the biochip he’s perfected—out intact. But this proves to be of supreme interest to certain other parties—some of whom aren’t remotely human....
A corporate mercenary wakes in a reconstructed body, a beautiful woman by his side. Then Hosaka Corporation reactivates him, for a mission more dangerous than the one he’s recovering to get a defecting chief of R&D—and the biochip he’s perfected—out intact. But this proves to be of supreme interest to certain other parties—some of whom aren’t remotely human....
308 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1986
2943 people are currently reading
33928 people want to read
About the author
William Gibson
297 books14.9k 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.
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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 2,026 reviews
December 16, 2025
The coolest thing about reading Gibson is jacking in to his urbane and hip way of descriptive narration.
William Gibson, as prophet of cyber punk and also as the herald of his later Blue Ant works, returns to The Sprawl for a continuation of the setting he began in his masterwork, Neuromancer.
But like many of his books, this sequel is only that in regard to a return to the original setting, Count Zero works as a stand alone. The Sprawl, the megalopolis formed by the Eastern United States, from Boston to Atlanta, is his futuristic, over population setting where artificial intelligence spooks the Matrix, where cowboy hackers can jack into cyberspace and where corporate mercenaries compete in clandestine adventures.
Gibson also demonstrates his remarkable skill at depicting corporate espionage amidst an anarcho-capitalistic world dominated by multi-national corporations. Count Zero also explores the results of unrestrained individual wealth in a global economy and wealth as an analog for a new aristocracy as corporations melded into capitalistic clans. The super rich are not even human, so far removed from ordinary circumstances and from the constraints of mortality.
Gibson’s Sprawl trilogy (completed in 1988 with Mona Lisa Overdrive) bridges the cyberpunk genre from the release of Bladerunner to the beginning of The Matrix films and is the cornerstone of this sub-genre.
*** 2022 rearead –
Neuromancer is one of my all-time favorite books, I love it.
But after re-reading the 1986 “sequel” I will join many other reviewers in stating that Count Zero is actually the better written novel.
I still love Neuromancer, still one of my all-time favs – it is raw and energetic like the garage band origins of a great rock show. Count Zero is from a writer with some street cred, a little more polished, a little more intricacy and with some more diesel in the tank.
A sequel in that it is in the same “Sprawl” universe and shares with its predecessor some of the same cyberspace themes, this also made me think of the review that describes Gibson’s writing as “high tech – low life”. This is crime writing hardwired and jacked in.
Speaking of crime writing, let me here emphasize and highlight a great character who was also in Neuromancer and is apparently also in the third book, Mona Lisa Overdrive. I’m talking about The Finn. In crime literature parlance, the Fence is where the rubber meets the road. This is the bridge between the shady underworld of crime and the “respectable” market. Think of Dickens’ Fagan and you know that you’ve got to have a good fence in the lineup. The Finn is all that and a bag of chips – bio chips that is.
Great fun, and I'm on to Mona Lisa Overdrive.
*** 2025 reread -
Wow.
I knew when I first read this that it was good, a bright point on the cyberpunk landscape, a worthy sequel to the brilliant Neuromancer. Then I reread it a few years ago and realized that it was very good, masterfully crafted by an experienced writer and was a great book in its own right, not just the next in line after its famous prequel.
Now. Now I am amazed at what Gibson has done here.
First of all, Neuromancer was the prequel, the embarkation point for the journey into Gibson’s cyberpunk world building, but Count Zero was where he blasted off and left the gravity well behind for something new and magnificent. Neuromancer got our attention, Count Zero put it all together.
There is a scene that was used almost verbatim in Ready Player One, first published twenty five years later. Also, this may have been a greater influence on the Matrix films, as several of the themes explored in that seminal work of cinema were lifted from Gibson’s second book.
It is dense the way Hemingway is stacked together.
Hemingway? Dense? Gibson? What?
Yes.
There is what is written and the reader must slowly pay attention to all the minute detail Gibson is laying down but there is also what is not stated, the in between story that tells so much more.
And like any good noir mystery, Gibson provides details within clues within foreshadowing and ties it all together for the patient, thoughtful and erudite reader. Reading it more than once helps too.
William Gibson, as prophet of cyber punk and also as the herald of his later Blue Ant works, returns to The Sprawl for a continuation of the setting he began in his masterwork, Neuromancer.
But like many of his books, this sequel is only that in regard to a return to the original setting, Count Zero works as a stand alone. The Sprawl, the megalopolis formed by the Eastern United States, from Boston to Atlanta, is his futuristic, over population setting where artificial intelligence spooks the Matrix, where cowboy hackers can jack into cyberspace and where corporate mercenaries compete in clandestine adventures.
Gibson also demonstrates his remarkable skill at depicting corporate espionage amidst an anarcho-capitalistic world dominated by multi-national corporations. Count Zero also explores the results of unrestrained individual wealth in a global economy and wealth as an analog for a new aristocracy as corporations melded into capitalistic clans. The super rich are not even human, so far removed from ordinary circumstances and from the constraints of mortality.
Gibson’s Sprawl trilogy (completed in 1988 with Mona Lisa Overdrive) bridges the cyberpunk genre from the release of Bladerunner to the beginning of The Matrix films and is the cornerstone of this sub-genre.
*** 2022 rearead –
Neuromancer is one of my all-time favorite books, I love it.
But after re-reading the 1986 “sequel” I will join many other reviewers in stating that Count Zero is actually the better written novel.
I still love Neuromancer, still one of my all-time favs – it is raw and energetic like the garage band origins of a great rock show. Count Zero is from a writer with some street cred, a little more polished, a little more intricacy and with some more diesel in the tank.
A sequel in that it is in the same “Sprawl” universe and shares with its predecessor some of the same cyberspace themes, this also made me think of the review that describes Gibson’s writing as “high tech – low life”. This is crime writing hardwired and jacked in.
Speaking of crime writing, let me here emphasize and highlight a great character who was also in Neuromancer and is apparently also in the third book, Mona Lisa Overdrive. I’m talking about The Finn. In crime literature parlance, the Fence is where the rubber meets the road. This is the bridge between the shady underworld of crime and the “respectable” market. Think of Dickens’ Fagan and you know that you’ve got to have a good fence in the lineup. The Finn is all that and a bag of chips – bio chips that is.
Great fun, and I'm on to Mona Lisa Overdrive.
*** 2025 reread -
Wow.
I knew when I first read this that it was good, a bright point on the cyberpunk landscape, a worthy sequel to the brilliant Neuromancer. Then I reread it a few years ago and realized that it was very good, masterfully crafted by an experienced writer and was a great book in its own right, not just the next in line after its famous prequel.
Now. Now I am amazed at what Gibson has done here.
First of all, Neuromancer was the prequel, the embarkation point for the journey into Gibson’s cyberpunk world building, but Count Zero was where he blasted off and left the gravity well behind for something new and magnificent. Neuromancer got our attention, Count Zero put it all together.
There is a scene that was used almost verbatim in Ready Player One, first published twenty five years later. Also, this may have been a greater influence on the Matrix films, as several of the themes explored in that seminal work of cinema were lifted from Gibson’s second book.
It is dense the way Hemingway is stacked together.
Hemingway? Dense? Gibson? What?
Yes.
There is what is written and the reader must slowly pay attention to all the minute detail Gibson is laying down but there is also what is not stated, the in between story that tells so much more.
And like any good noir mystery, Gibson provides details within clues within foreshadowing and ties it all together for the patient, thoughtful and erudite reader. Reading it more than once helps too.
February 6, 2016
“it involved the idea that people who were genuinely dangerous might not need to exhibit the fact at all, and that the ability to conceal a threat made them even more dangerous.”
― William Gibson, Count Zero
I haven't read Sprawl # 3 (Mona Lisa Overdrive), but after reading Neuromancer and now 'Count Zero', I think I will start referring to the Sprawl trilogy as the Sprawl Dialectic. 'Neuromancer' = Thesis. 'Count Zero' = Antithesis, so I guess I have to wait to see if 'Mona Lisa Overdrive' = Synthesis.
Gibson's warnings about cyberspace, the matrix, electronic hallucinations, corporate excess, etc., in 'Neuromancer' served only to codify/name the culture/future he was warning about. Instead of serving as a warning, Gibson ended up vibrating, slicking, sexing a whole webby nest of proto-cyberbabies into a real cyberpunk counter-culture. 'Count Zero' appears to be him trying again, but using a different tact. He spends less time with the easy, 'fun', matrix-fueled side of the future and instead spends more time examining the people, the fragments and residue of a dystopian future where corporations have become like people and computers and AI have become like gods.
Gibson trademarks, however, are still swarming all over 'Count Zero'. It is hard to read a page without a sentence where Gibson waxes poetic about an article of clothing, a fabric type, a piece of art, or a stylized way of wearing one's hair. But still, 'Count Zero' appears to be Gibson saying, yeah, that 'Neuromancer' book you are all so turned on about is fine, but it was an adolescent idea. Let me tell you the story again, but from another way, so you can understand that it isn't sexy, it isn't beautiful, it isn't glorious. The future is dangerous, manipulative, and has the potential to completely change our relationships with with each other, with art, with our history and even with our future. Let's just slow it down a bit and think.
I'm not sure if he changed the velocity of 'Neuromancer' or changed any minds, and I'm not sure 'Count Zero' was nearly as good a book (Not a 'Godfather, Part II'), but I'm glad he wrote it and it is interesting as a reader to see Gibson gain some real confidence in his art and his message.
― William Gibson, Count Zero
I haven't read Sprawl # 3 (Mona Lisa Overdrive), but after reading Neuromancer and now 'Count Zero', I think I will start referring to the Sprawl trilogy as the Sprawl Dialectic. 'Neuromancer' = Thesis. 'Count Zero' = Antithesis, so I guess I have to wait to see if 'Mona Lisa Overdrive' = Synthesis.
Gibson's warnings about cyberspace, the matrix, electronic hallucinations, corporate excess, etc., in 'Neuromancer' served only to codify/name the culture/future he was warning about. Instead of serving as a warning, Gibson ended up vibrating, slicking, sexing a whole webby nest of proto-cyberbabies into a real cyberpunk counter-culture. 'Count Zero' appears to be him trying again, but using a different tact. He spends less time with the easy, 'fun', matrix-fueled side of the future and instead spends more time examining the people, the fragments and residue of a dystopian future where corporations have become like people and computers and AI have become like gods.
Gibson trademarks, however, are still swarming all over 'Count Zero'. It is hard to read a page without a sentence where Gibson waxes poetic about an article of clothing, a fabric type, a piece of art, or a stylized way of wearing one's hair. But still, 'Count Zero' appears to be Gibson saying, yeah, that 'Neuromancer' book you are all so turned on about is fine, but it was an adolescent idea. Let me tell you the story again, but from another way, so you can understand that it isn't sexy, it isn't beautiful, it isn't glorious. The future is dangerous, manipulative, and has the potential to completely change our relationships with with each other, with art, with our history and even with our future. Let's just slow it down a bit and think.
I'm not sure if he changed the velocity of 'Neuromancer' or changed any minds, and I'm not sure 'Count Zero' was nearly as good a book (Not a 'Godfather, Part II'), but I'm glad he wrote it and it is interesting as a reader to see Gibson gain some real confidence in his art and his message.
April 30, 2009
I would perhaps complain that the ending was a bit to deus ex machina for my taste, but then the entire book is wound around the theme of god being in the machine. From the vodou loa who seemingly possess various characters and steer the entire plot; to the mad European trillionare who has reached near immortality through preservation vats and virtual reality; to the insane former net cowboy who now believes he has found god in the random yet deeply moving works of art created by long abandoned industrial robot; everything in Count Zero is about god, machines, and that perhaps the line between the two is not so clear.
Then again, Neuromancer was largely about sentient AI, and how if computers and the net become omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent, that is pretty much the definition of God. I personally enjoyed Neuromancer a bit more, simply because I like the question of god to remain fuzzy, for the factor of faith to blur the interpretation of what occurs -- both see the same bolt of lightening, but to the atheist the lightening is just a meteorological, to the believer, it is a sign from above. In Count Zero the loas seem to actually haunt the net and actually seem to sculpt the events in the book. It could be that they are merely highly advanced AI manifesting as African gods, but Gibson seems to lean a bit more towards the divine here.
That said, Gibson is perhaps one of the best stylists writing sci-fi. I love the genre, but read less of it than I might like simply because the prose in most sci-fi is mediocre, if not down-right bad. There is this generic, functional "sci-fi voice" that the majority of "good" SF writers fall into, where the sentences and paragraphs are merely scaffolds to prop up their ideas: whatever intriguing plot they've devises, some moral or spiritual crisis explored through technology or alien species. As long as the ideas are good enough, I don't usually mind, and that's what SF tends to be about, both for the authors and their audience -- ideas. It doesn't matter that Canticle for Lebowitz, Anvil of Stars, or I, Robot all sound about the same, because the ideas are fascinating and hold you spell-bound.
Gibson, on the other hand, has ideas that grab you and prose can make you pause and re-read a sentence. He can craft brilliant, even quotable lines, and shift his style to near stream-of-consciousness to show the mind-blowing effects of hitting black ice, being drugged, or having one's memory artificially restored. He throws around lingo and slang just to the edge of being pretentious without (usually) falling over, with the effect of having a living, breathing world whose dirt and grime are familiar enough to make it immediate and real, yet just alien enough to be the exotic future.
Well, on to Mona Lisa Overdrive, then I can review the entire Sprawl Trilogy.
Then again, Neuromancer was largely about sentient AI, and how if computers and the net become omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent, that is pretty much the definition of God. I personally enjoyed Neuromancer a bit more, simply because I like the question of god to remain fuzzy, for the factor of faith to blur the interpretation of what occurs -- both see the same bolt of lightening, but to the atheist the lightening is just a meteorological, to the believer, it is a sign from above. In Count Zero the loas seem to actually haunt the net and actually seem to sculpt the events in the book. It could be that they are merely highly advanced AI manifesting as African gods, but Gibson seems to lean a bit more towards the divine here.
That said, Gibson is perhaps one of the best stylists writing sci-fi. I love the genre, but read less of it than I might like simply because the prose in most sci-fi is mediocre, if not down-right bad. There is this generic, functional "sci-fi voice" that the majority of "good" SF writers fall into, where the sentences and paragraphs are merely scaffolds to prop up their ideas: whatever intriguing plot they've devises, some moral or spiritual crisis explored through technology or alien species. As long as the ideas are good enough, I don't usually mind, and that's what SF tends to be about, both for the authors and their audience -- ideas. It doesn't matter that Canticle for Lebowitz, Anvil of Stars, or I, Robot all sound about the same, because the ideas are fascinating and hold you spell-bound.
Gibson, on the other hand, has ideas that grab you and prose can make you pause and re-read a sentence. He can craft brilliant, even quotable lines, and shift his style to near stream-of-consciousness to show the mind-blowing effects of hitting black ice, being drugged, or having one's memory artificially restored. He throws around lingo and slang just to the edge of being pretentious without (usually) falling over, with the effect of having a living, breathing world whose dirt and grime are familiar enough to make it immediate and real, yet just alien enough to be the exotic future.
Well, on to Mona Lisa Overdrive, then I can review the entire Sprawl Trilogy.
May 21, 2024
Gibson's writing evolves here towards his Blue Ant series. A few characters continue from Neuromancer and it takes place of the world of The Sprawl and the shared consensual hallucination of Cyberspace, but it's a significant pivot. The characters in Count Zero echo into his later work. As I read Marly Krushkhova's chapters, I said yep, that is definitely Cayce Pollard (Cool, stylish, specialized in art/design, skilled as a sensitive intuitive) from Pattern Recognition.
The three character POV doesn't quite come together elegantly or satisfactorily, but I enjoyed the ride. I love Gibson's detached style, descriptions, timing. Some of his info dumps still awkward - "So why don't you tell me the plan, I want to make sure you understand", but I find myself very forgiving. Probably because I find a certain je ne sais quoi, a magic in Gibson's work I lack the horsepower to dissect and analyze. It's probably better that way.
The three character POV doesn't quite come together elegantly or satisfactorily, but I enjoyed the ride. I love Gibson's detached style, descriptions, timing. Some of his info dumps still awkward - "So why don't you tell me the plan, I want to make sure you understand", but I find myself very forgiving. Probably because I find a certain je ne sais quoi, a magic in Gibson's work I lack the horsepower to dissect and analyze. It's probably better that way.
December 24, 2014
When I was maybe halfway through this book, I wrote this elsewhere:
--------------------
It’s funny reading “classic” William Gibson now because he basically imagined a version of the internet that was much less life-changing than the actual internet.
"There will be instant electronic full VR communication but there will be no communities or subcultures in it, people will still just be friends in real life and then talk on the (video) phone sometimes. Using the internet is sort of like playing a video game on psychedelic drugs, and it it is mainly used as a substitute for drugs, or for Crimes. Being good at this weird game has replaced actual technical skill so the ‘technical’ people involved in the Crimes are not nerds, they are edgy adrenaline junkies who wouldn’t be out of place in a bank heist story. Everyone uses information technology but it works flawlessly all the time so there is no reorganization of society where people who like ‘boring’ technical details can now provide a newly valuable service. The story could effortlessly be rewritten as urban fantasy where ‘the matrix’ is some dreamtime accessed through magic, and the result could be set at any point in the 20th century without changing anything."
It’s not just that it’s anachronistic, it’s that he didn’t actually imagine any social change (for the most part).
--------------------
Having finished the book, that still sums up my reaction to it. It is essentially a generic noir story with some fantasy elements, onto which computer-themed wallpaper has been grafted. The one important change in social structure that Gibson imagines is the increased influence of powerful corporations, but this makes little functional difference; the characters who do dangerous jobs for corporations might as well be doing those jobs for governments, for all the difference it makes. Gibson imagines a world where cyber-security is important, but his world is one that couldn't accommodate Edward Snowden; the people who deal with security here are not tech geeks but macho adrenaline junkies, heist wheelmen with computer-themed makeovers.
I guess there is nothing wrong with a generic noir story. What makes this book frustrating is the intimation that it is something more. In hindsight, it's easy to see that it isn't. Gibson almost studiously avoids introducing real deviations from the noir template. Computer hacking is described so impressionistically that it bears no connection to real-world computing whatsoever -- it could be effortlessly rewritten as magic in a fantasy setting.
This renders one of the core elements of the book's plot largely pointless. Entities presenting themselves as Haitian Voodoo gods have appeared in the matrix, and there are arguments between those who believe that these are "really" the gods they say they are, and those that believe they are "merely" artificial intelligences pretending to be gods. However, the book's notion of "artificial intelligence" is already entirely fantastical and unconstrained by any information about real-world computing, so the difference is moot from the reader's perspective. Overall there is a complete sense that Gibson's choices of scenery have no consequences whatsoever. It makes no difference whether something is a "god" or an "AI," whether a character is "jacking into the matrix" as opposed to "casting a spell to enter the dreamtime." It makes no difference that Gibson has chosen a futuristic "look" for his noir story, because in the end it's just a noir story.
Near the end of the book it is mentioned that one character has resistors braided into her hair, which seems like a perfect summary of the weight technology has (i.e. doesn't have) in this book. In a different genre those resistors would be something else, but in any case they are non-functioning parts, used only for aesthetic value. Technology is non-functionally "tacked onto" this book like those resistors.
I remember being very impressed with Gibson's prose when I read Neuromancer at age 18. Either Gibson declined a lot between that book and this one, or I'm no longer as easily impressed by competent prose in plot-driven genre stories anymore (the latter seems more likely). The only way to determine which is the case would be to re-read Neuromancer, but I'm not eager to do that at this point.
One star is too harsh a rating for a competent if totally unremarkable genre story, but Gibson pretends to do so much more, and that's frustrating. He's pretentious, in a much more direct sense of the term than the kind of authors who more commonly get slammed with it. So this book gets one star for being so much less than it pretends to be.
--------------------
It’s funny reading “classic” William Gibson now because he basically imagined a version of the internet that was much less life-changing than the actual internet.
"There will be instant electronic full VR communication but there will be no communities or subcultures in it, people will still just be friends in real life and then talk on the (video) phone sometimes. Using the internet is sort of like playing a video game on psychedelic drugs, and it it is mainly used as a substitute for drugs, or for Crimes. Being good at this weird game has replaced actual technical skill so the ‘technical’ people involved in the Crimes are not nerds, they are edgy adrenaline junkies who wouldn’t be out of place in a bank heist story. Everyone uses information technology but it works flawlessly all the time so there is no reorganization of society where people who like ‘boring’ technical details can now provide a newly valuable service. The story could effortlessly be rewritten as urban fantasy where ‘the matrix’ is some dreamtime accessed through magic, and the result could be set at any point in the 20th century without changing anything."
It’s not just that it’s anachronistic, it’s that he didn’t actually imagine any social change (for the most part).
--------------------
Having finished the book, that still sums up my reaction to it. It is essentially a generic noir story with some fantasy elements, onto which computer-themed wallpaper has been grafted. The one important change in social structure that Gibson imagines is the increased influence of powerful corporations, but this makes little functional difference; the characters who do dangerous jobs for corporations might as well be doing those jobs for governments, for all the difference it makes. Gibson imagines a world where cyber-security is important, but his world is one that couldn't accommodate Edward Snowden; the people who deal with security here are not tech geeks but macho adrenaline junkies, heist wheelmen with computer-themed makeovers.
I guess there is nothing wrong with a generic noir story. What makes this book frustrating is the intimation that it is something more. In hindsight, it's easy to see that it isn't. Gibson almost studiously avoids introducing real deviations from the noir template. Computer hacking is described so impressionistically that it bears no connection to real-world computing whatsoever -- it could be effortlessly rewritten as magic in a fantasy setting.
This renders one of the core elements of the book's plot largely pointless. Entities presenting themselves as Haitian Voodoo gods have appeared in the matrix, and there are arguments between those who believe that these are "really" the gods they say they are, and those that believe they are "merely" artificial intelligences pretending to be gods. However, the book's notion of "artificial intelligence" is already entirely fantastical and unconstrained by any information about real-world computing, so the difference is moot from the reader's perspective. Overall there is a complete sense that Gibson's choices of scenery have no consequences whatsoever. It makes no difference whether something is a "god" or an "AI," whether a character is "jacking into the matrix" as opposed to "casting a spell to enter the dreamtime." It makes no difference that Gibson has chosen a futuristic "look" for his noir story, because in the end it's just a noir story.
Near the end of the book it is mentioned that one character has resistors braided into her hair, which seems like a perfect summary of the weight technology has (i.e. doesn't have) in this book. In a different genre those resistors would be something else, but in any case they are non-functioning parts, used only for aesthetic value. Technology is non-functionally "tacked onto" this book like those resistors.
I remember being very impressed with Gibson's prose when I read Neuromancer at age 18. Either Gibson declined a lot between that book and this one, or I'm no longer as easily impressed by competent prose in plot-driven genre stories anymore (the latter seems more likely). The only way to determine which is the case would be to re-read Neuromancer, but I'm not eager to do that at this point.
One star is too harsh a rating for a competent if totally unremarkable genre story, but Gibson pretends to do so much more, and that's frustrating. He's pretentious, in a much more direct sense of the term than the kind of authors who more commonly get slammed with it. So this book gets one star for being so much less than it pretends to be.
February 26, 2014
Following the resounding success of my Locus Quest, I faced a dilemma: which reading list to follow it up with? Variety is the spice of life, so I’ve decided to diversify and pursue six different lists simultaneously. This book falls into my FINISHING THE SERIES! list.
I loves me a good series! But I'm terrible for starting a new series before finishing my last - so this reading list is all about trying to close out those series I've got on the go...
A quick look at the numbers...
Why is it that Neuromancer , the first book in Gibson's Sprawl trilogy, has 137,000 ratings on Goodreads - but Count Zero , the second book, has just 22,000 - and the third book, Mona Lisa Overdrive , just 17,000?
That's roughly 16% of Neuromancer readers following on to the next book and just 12% making it to the end of the series.
You have to ask - why the big drop-off?
The series scores reasonably well - between 3.8/3.9 - so it's not as if everyone is reading Neuromancer and saying "that was horrible, no more, please!" - although, I'll admit it does spark a greater love/hate split than most books.
From what investigations I've had time to do, the more common attitude seems to be along the lines of "Wow. That was quite something. I'm glad I've read it, but I don't need to read any more. Job done."
A thought on character...
Count Zero isn't a direct sequel - it doesn't pick-up the same characters - but it's set in the same world, orbiting the same scene, with some common threads - but each stands alone perfectly well. For most series it's the characters which act as the hook, pulling you on. You want to read the next instalment to find out how they fare in their next adventure. Not the case here. Which, again, explains some of that drop-off rate.
But even if Gibson had rejoined Case and co, I don't think everyone would have read on because character empathy is not his strong suit. Gibson is a stylist; a poetic, lyrical, idiosyncratic and wildly imaginative dreamer. He sketches out his anti-heroes with the minimum amount of effective brush-strokes, and animates his stories with a kinetic energy and effervescence that I find enthralling.
Why not so good?
Everything I love about Neuromancer is still present in Count Zero - but the story type isn't quite as suited to highlighting those strengths. Neuromancer is a heist story - and I have a special fondness for those. Heist's make criminals likeable, so they're a common lens for antihero crime tales - especially in cinema. For a classic heist tale, you collect your gang of crooks together, each bringing their own specialist skills, and set them a seemingly impossible job, which can only by overcome through careful co-operation and the whole becoming greater than the sum of the parts. Exact same formula as the classic 'gang on a quest' fantasy - and it works for Neuromancer .
Count Zero is almost a portmanteau. Several unrelated characters, each with their own smaller adventure, are tied together by the ending and some thematic resonance. While I was reading it, I kept thinking that it actually made an easier introduction to Gibson's Sprawl than Neuromancer did. The characters are mostly 'innocents' - a newbie hacker, a betrayed art dealer, a genius daughter on the run... they're all being introduced to the grimey world of corporate war, cybercrime, and god-like ghosts in the machines getting cosy with the mob.
But the portmanteau is a more artsy format, and coupled with Gibson's approach, for me, it ends-up a little too dilute. No one thread packs enough of a punch to deliver the killer blow, and the resonance between the threads isn't strong enough to compensate.
But still pretty damn good?
Hell yeah! My personal highlight was the mash-up of fragmented AI personae with voodoo loa (such as Baron Samedi)! Made me wonder how much influence Simmons drew from Gibson. I love the idea of "god-like" technological entities interpreting themselves as spiritual intermediaries with God. It's a concept with far greater scope than Gibson has chance to explore here.
I have mixed feelings about the prominence of the corporate mercenary, Turner. He's the main driving force behind the plot action, but within his thread it's the scientist's daughter he rescues, Angie, who really keys into the common themes. Sadly she's massively overshadowed by Turner, which is part of the dissonance amongst the threads I alluded to earlier. But on the plus side, Turner is a very cool character in his own right and the primary inspiration (I would assume) behind Richard Morgan's Takeshi Kovac books. So - swings and roundabouts, eh?
No awards?
Sadly not. Count Zero went up against Card's Speaker for the Dead (the sequel to Ender's Game ) and it's hard to argue against that one. Speaker for the Dead is superb (I gave it 5 stars, hands-down) and it took both the Hugo and Nebula awards away from Count Zero .
Carry on?
Well, I clicked "buy, buy now!" for book 3 in the series, Mona Lisa Overdrive within about thirty seconds of finishing the book... so I think you can safely say I'm keen for the next instalment! But I'm pretty disciplined with my reading lists these days so I'll force myself to wait at last a month or two... but yeah... I'm definitely looking forward to it.
After this I read: A Feast for Crows
February 11, 2023
Story is alright but like in previous book the world is the main star. I just love Cyberpunk as genre/setting.
May 13, 2013
With Count Zero, William Gibson employs the familiar device of fragmenting his narrative between multiple protagonists. On paper, this was a good idea. By utilising four characters and telling their stories separately, it had to the potential to go into greater detail with the world building and increase the complexity of the plot. The problem however, is that by incorporating four protagonists, his weakness in characterisation is made that more apparent. In Neuromancer, Molly was the linchpin. She provided the human investment needed through her background and clear emotional challenges. Count Zero sourly lacks this type of character because none are given the space to develop defined qualities. It's not that they're all unlikeable, but that they're all forgettable, and consequently, this effects the rest of the book's impact.
It's quite surprising in all honesty how much of an impact this lack of characterization had. I would read a chapter, be impressed with its structure, then when meeting the character that featured in that scene again, I couldn't remember what had happened to them. This occurred often and as I went on I realised I was detached from the narrative. This effect was also true for the world itself. While we arguably see more of The Sprawl due to the four perspectives, it didn't feel alive like in Neuromancer, each location read like a staging area for the characters to say their lines and push the plot forward.
It's entirely possible that I didn't connect to this book because I wasn't in the mood or another subjective reason. But I know there was a plot here that I wanted to be immersed in. Unfortunately, I was blocked by the bland characters and lifeless world.
It's quite surprising in all honesty how much of an impact this lack of characterization had. I would read a chapter, be impressed with its structure, then when meeting the character that featured in that scene again, I couldn't remember what had happened to them. This occurred often and as I went on I realised I was detached from the narrative. This effect was also true for the world itself. While we arguably see more of The Sprawl due to the four perspectives, it didn't feel alive like in Neuromancer, each location read like a staging area for the characters to say their lines and push the plot forward.
It's entirely possible that I didn't connect to this book because I wasn't in the mood or another subjective reason. But I know there was a plot here that I wanted to be immersed in. Unfortunately, I was blocked by the bland characters and lifeless world.
July 1, 2019
This is my second read of Count Zero, the first read shortly after publishing as a paperback.
I read it again, and like Neuromancer, what I thought I read back then (1986/87), and what I re-read was two different things. I will be reading Mona Lisa Overdrive next, and hope that my recall of what I read in that book more lines up with my next reread.
Three different main stories that end up being threaded into a grand finale. There is the story of Bobby (Count Zero). This reading, I realized that Count Zero was a wanna-be, stupid, naive unlike the charactor Case from Neuromancer. Turner was the mercenary, and Turner was the plot portion that I remember from the first reading oof this book. Finaly there is Marly, the art dealer, collector and formal Gallery owner. She is smart, wiise but only barely manages to stay one step ahead of her employer. Marly's plotline is also the plotline that I remember correctly from my first read. All three threads converge together for a grand ending.
The book, for those unfamilar with Gibson's style of writing can be hard to follow at first. I had to reread a passage here and there to understand what Gibson is trying to say. The book, in MHO is good. I remember as I started reading Gibson, I spent what time and money looking for and buying works by Gibson. My only regrete would be mis-remembering what I thought I read to what my second reading and my much better understanding.
I read it again, and like Neuromancer, what I thought I read back then (1986/87), and what I re-read was two different things. I will be reading Mona Lisa Overdrive next, and hope that my recall of what I read in that book more lines up with my next reread.
Three different main stories that end up being threaded into a grand finale. There is the story of Bobby (Count Zero). This reading, I realized that Count Zero was a wanna-be, stupid, naive unlike the charactor Case from Neuromancer. Turner was the mercenary, and Turner was the plot portion that I remember from the first reading oof this book. Finaly there is Marly, the art dealer, collector and formal Gallery owner. She is smart, wiise but only barely manages to stay one step ahead of her employer. Marly's plotline is also the plotline that I remember correctly from my first read. All three threads converge together for a grand ending.
The book, for those unfamilar with Gibson's style of writing can be hard to follow at first. I had to reread a passage here and there to understand what Gibson is trying to say. The book, in MHO is good. I remember as I started reading Gibson, I spent what time and money looking for and buying works by Gibson. My only regrete would be mis-remembering what I thought I read to what my second reading and my much better understanding.
September 22, 2011
ORIGINALLY POSTED AT Fantasy Literature.
"They plot with men, my other selves, and men imagine they are gods."
Several years have passed since Molly and Case freed the AI who calls himself Neuromancer. Neuromancer’s been busy and now his plots have widened to involve several people whom we meet in Count Zero:
Turner is a recently reconstructed mercenary who’s been hired by the Hosaka Corporation to extract Christopher Mitchell and his daughter Angie from Mitchell’s job at Maas Biolabs. Mitchell is the creator of the world’s first biochip, and he’s secretly agreed to move to Hosaka. Extracting an indentured research scientist is a deadly game, but Turner is one of the best.
Bobby “Count Zero” Newmark, who wants to be a console cowboy, has just pulled a Wilson (that means he majorly screwed up) on his first attempt at running an unknown icebreaker. He nearly died in the matrix but was saved by a girl he’d never seen before. Now he’s freaked out, on the run, and buildings are exploding behind him as he’s being hunted by a mysterious helicopter with a rocket launcher.
Marly Krushkova lost her art gallery after her boyfriend tried to sell a forgery. Now she’s been hired by Joseph Virek, the world’s richest man, to find the artist who’s creating and selling some strange shadowboxes. These expensive and enigmatic objets d'art seem like collections of random pieces of junk, but they speak to Marly. Using her intuition, and Joseph Virek’s money, she hopes to find the unknown artist.
Other memorable characters are the voodoo priests and priestesses, The Finn, Tally Isham the Sense/Net celebrity, the prophet Wigan Ludgate who thinks God lives in the matrix, a bar owner named Jammer, and a whole mob of Gothicks and Kasuals. All of their stories eventually collide as we discover who’s haunting cyberspace.
Count Zero is the first sequel to William Gibson’s cyberpunk classic Neuromancer. If you haven’t read Neuromancer yet, you’ll probably be lost because Gibson just drops you into his world without instructions, explanations, or technical support. Even though you think you’ve been to his world before (it’s Earth after all), you haven’t, and Gibson never tells us what happened to make it unrecognizable. It appears that large biotech companies are in control (or maybe I should say they’re out of control) and there are no authorities to check their ruthless behaviors. What happened to the U.S. government? Why are so many cities ruined and abandoned? What is “the war” that people keep referring to? Where is the middle class? There are still rich people who buy art, wear stylish clothes, and set trends for the masses, but many of those who try to keep up are illiterate, addicted, and without electricity and clean water. They escape their lives with designer drugs and by plugging into cheap simstim fantasies.
It’s partly these questions, which are never answered, that make Neuromancer’s sequel work so well. Many sequels feel pallid because the world and the characters are no longer new and exciting, but Gibson avoids sequel stagnancy by creating a gaudy and grueling world that we feel like we should understand, and making us desperate for more information (but rarely delivering it).
It also helps that in each book of the Sprawl trilogy, we have new characters to get to know. And you have to admire Gibson’s characters. Not as people, perhaps, but as characters. For example, Bobby (Count Zero) is a total loser. He’s like that obnoxious kid in high school who was always trying so hard to make people like him. Gibson gets this just right, never explaining Bobby to us, but letting us gradually figure him out just by listening to him talk or by seeing things from his perspective. This is carefully and cleverly done for every character.
The plot of Count Zero is fascinating, unique, and unpredictable as Gibson finally brings together all of these weird and colorful events and characters. There are some answers in the end, and the story's connection to Neuromancer is eventually made clear. But there are many questions left to answer, so after you finish Count Zero, you’ll want to have Mona Lisa Overdrive, the concluding novel of the Sprawl trilogy, ready to go.
I listened to Brilliance Audio’s version of Count Zero which was read by one of my favorite voice actors, Jonathan Davis. He is always wonderful and his grimy and jaded male voices are perfect for this kind of novel. My only issue is one I’ve had with Davis before: he has essentially one female voice. I have listened to so many books read by Mr. Davis that I actually feel like this one woman is showing up in all these different novels. (Hey, what are Thecla and Agia and Vlana and Ivrian doing in the Sprawl??) Count Zero has only a few female characters who don’t overlap much, so Davis does well with this story, but I’ll be listening for Angie and Marly next time I’m in Lankhmar.
"They plot with men, my other selves, and men imagine they are gods."
Several years have passed since Molly and Case freed the AI who calls himself Neuromancer. Neuromancer’s been busy and now his plots have widened to involve several people whom we meet in Count Zero:
Turner is a recently reconstructed mercenary who’s been hired by the Hosaka Corporation to extract Christopher Mitchell and his daughter Angie from Mitchell’s job at Maas Biolabs. Mitchell is the creator of the world’s first biochip, and he’s secretly agreed to move to Hosaka. Extracting an indentured research scientist is a deadly game, but Turner is one of the best.
Bobby “Count Zero” Newmark, who wants to be a console cowboy, has just pulled a Wilson (that means he majorly screwed up) on his first attempt at running an unknown icebreaker. He nearly died in the matrix but was saved by a girl he’d never seen before. Now he’s freaked out, on the run, and buildings are exploding behind him as he’s being hunted by a mysterious helicopter with a rocket launcher.
Marly Krushkova lost her art gallery after her boyfriend tried to sell a forgery. Now she’s been hired by Joseph Virek, the world’s richest man, to find the artist who’s creating and selling some strange shadowboxes. These expensive and enigmatic objets d'art seem like collections of random pieces of junk, but they speak to Marly. Using her intuition, and Joseph Virek’s money, she hopes to find the unknown artist.
Other memorable characters are the voodoo priests and priestesses, The Finn, Tally Isham the Sense/Net celebrity, the prophet Wigan Ludgate who thinks God lives in the matrix, a bar owner named Jammer, and a whole mob of Gothicks and Kasuals. All of their stories eventually collide as we discover who’s haunting cyberspace.
Count Zero is the first sequel to William Gibson’s cyberpunk classic Neuromancer. If you haven’t read Neuromancer yet, you’ll probably be lost because Gibson just drops you into his world without instructions, explanations, or technical support. Even though you think you’ve been to his world before (it’s Earth after all), you haven’t, and Gibson never tells us what happened to make it unrecognizable. It appears that large biotech companies are in control (or maybe I should say they’re out of control) and there are no authorities to check their ruthless behaviors. What happened to the U.S. government? Why are so many cities ruined and abandoned? What is “the war” that people keep referring to? Where is the middle class? There are still rich people who buy art, wear stylish clothes, and set trends for the masses, but many of those who try to keep up are illiterate, addicted, and without electricity and clean water. They escape their lives with designer drugs and by plugging into cheap simstim fantasies.
It’s partly these questions, which are never answered, that make Neuromancer’s sequel work so well. Many sequels feel pallid because the world and the characters are no longer new and exciting, but Gibson avoids sequel stagnancy by creating a gaudy and grueling world that we feel like we should understand, and making us desperate for more information (but rarely delivering it).
It also helps that in each book of the Sprawl trilogy, we have new characters to get to know. And you have to admire Gibson’s characters. Not as people, perhaps, but as characters. For example, Bobby (Count Zero) is a total loser. He’s like that obnoxious kid in high school who was always trying so hard to make people like him. Gibson gets this just right, never explaining Bobby to us, but letting us gradually figure him out just by listening to him talk or by seeing things from his perspective. This is carefully and cleverly done for every character.
The plot of Count Zero is fascinating, unique, and unpredictable as Gibson finally brings together all of these weird and colorful events and characters. There are some answers in the end, and the story's connection to Neuromancer is eventually made clear. But there are many questions left to answer, so after you finish Count Zero, you’ll want to have Mona Lisa Overdrive, the concluding novel of the Sprawl trilogy, ready to go.
I listened to Brilliance Audio’s version of Count Zero which was read by one of my favorite voice actors, Jonathan Davis. He is always wonderful and his grimy and jaded male voices are perfect for this kind of novel. My only issue is one I’ve had with Davis before: he has essentially one female voice. I have listened to so many books read by Mr. Davis that I actually feel like this one woman is showing up in all these different novels. (Hey, what are Thecla and Agia and Vlana and Ivrian doing in the Sprawl??) Count Zero has only a few female characters who don’t overlap much, so Davis does well with this story, but I’ll be listening for Angie and Marly next time I’m in Lankhmar.
November 19, 2025
Just as brilliant as the first, if not slightly more so. Really connected with the characters in this one and how it was all brought together.
May 17, 2012
An interesting addition to the Sprawl trilogy started with Neuromancer, taking a look at similar themes from a different perspective. What makes us human? What effect is technology having on us as a species? What happens if technology develops beyond our understanding and of its own free will?
I wasn't blown away, in fact I found it quite difficult to read at times yet managed to read it what felt like no time at all. This sort of sums up the contradiction of my experience of this book. Bored yet unable to stop reading. Putting the book down every 15 minutes yet never able to leave it alone for very long. Seeing ideas that would go on to be developed in new, interesting, more entertaining ways, yet overwhelmed at the foresight and inventiveness of the author.
I want to believe in William Gibson, I want to be a massive fan of all of his work yet I find myself struggling with these early books. If this wasn't a Gibson I may not have even finished it, if the sequence wasn't important to the development of the genre I probably wouldn't have started this one after Neuromancer.
So what now? Maybe the Blue Ant sequence will re-affirm my allegiance to the man.
I wasn't blown away, in fact I found it quite difficult to read at times yet managed to read it what felt like no time at all. This sort of sums up the contradiction of my experience of this book. Bored yet unable to stop reading. Putting the book down every 15 minutes yet never able to leave it alone for very long. Seeing ideas that would go on to be developed in new, interesting, more entertaining ways, yet overwhelmed at the foresight and inventiveness of the author.
I want to believe in William Gibson, I want to be a massive fan of all of his work yet I find myself struggling with these early books. If this wasn't a Gibson I may not have even finished it, if the sequence wasn't important to the development of the genre I probably wouldn't have started this one after Neuromancer.
So what now? Maybe the Blue Ant sequence will re-affirm my allegiance to the man.
October 2, 2022
Ґібсон не планував писати продовження Нейроманта. Він навіть спеціально дописав фінал так, щоб закрити будь-які питання: чи буде продовження, чи ні. І після того написав продовження. Всього через два роки. Одночасно видавши збірку Спалити Хром.
І одразу попереджу: цей роман Ґібсон задумував як другу частину трилогії. Це відчутно, бо жодної розв'язки ми не отримаємо. Точніше так, "тактичну" (тобто вирішення проблем головних героїв) ми отримаємо, але "стратегічну" (що за чортівня творилася весь роман?!) нам слід почекати до наступного тому.
В Зануленні Ґібсон підходить до побудови тексту та сюжету зовсім інакше. Ми занурюємося в три сюжетні лінії, між якими перемикання відбувається в режимі стробоскопа: тільки вдалося зрозуміти, що ж відбувається в одному епізоді однієї лінії, як ми одразу перемикаємося - і знову треба звикати, бо там нова ситуація. Це на початку втомлює, але після 2/3 роману раптом всі лінії складаються. Як пазл, причому миттєво. І після цього "перемикання" вже не дратує, а тільки додає розгортанню подій інтенсивності.
Зміна стилю, до речі, як я розумію, обурює багатьох фанатів циклу. Адже Нейромант написаний дуже нуарно, тобто головний герой (а там він один - Кейс) - це справжній анти-герой, а сама мова, якою він описує все, що з ним відбувається, дуже рвана і лаконічна. Натомість в Зануленні Ґібсон обирає повільніший темп. Тут і герої поводяться "спокійніше", і сама мова більш розлога. І темп оповіді повільніший.
Втім, до цього всього є ключ - речі. Ґібсон майже всюди додає описи матеріального світу. Герої вже не просто в кіберпросторі чи фізичному просторі, розміченому дуже умовно, як це було в Нейроманті. Ні, Ґібсон смакує описи - навіть якщо йдеться про стіл з вчорашнього бенкету одного ділка середнього розмаху. Цей поворот тут не випадковий, а є частиною послання автора. Власне тому хочеться відзначити саме український переклад назви - Занулення. В оригіналі - Count Zero, що може також означати "граф Нуль". Це нік одного з героїв роману, а тому росіяни так і написали "Граф Ноль". Втім, Ґібсону йдеться саме про занулення - системи, свідомості, суспільства. І поворот до речей тут центральний: як би не фантазували про кіберпростір як альтернативну реальність, рано чи пізно ми повертаємося до фізичного світу - речей та людей. Нам потрібен фізичний комфорт та безпечне і рідне коло людей. В цьому плані роман шикарний. Він не просто відтіняє Нейроманта, а навпаки - доповнює його.
І цілком погоджуюся з критиками: герої тут виписані просто шикарно. Тернер - найманець, його брат Руді та дружина Саллі, екс-кураторка галереї Марла та хотдожник Боббі Ньюмарк. Останній - просто перлина. Він починає роман як ламер, який мріє стати гакером (хотдожник, що хоче стати жокеєм), а завершує... Тут я лише можу зняти капелюха перед Ґібсоном. Фінал лінії Боббі просто чудовий. Ґібсон вкотре показує, що він ігнорує всі кліше, але водночас виписує таку класну історію, що вона не виглядає як "а зараз я так закручу сюжет, щоб ви аж охнули і не повірили, що так можна". Всі повороти в нього дуже логічні. Коли вони відбуваються, то відчуваєш не стільки здивування, що автор так закрутив, скільки... тепло чи сум за героїв. Бо це дуже правдиві повороти, які трапляються з живими людьми в реальному світі. Так Ґібсон створює відчуття справжності своїх героїв. До речі, другорядні персонажі також дуже виразні і запам'ятовуються.
В цьому плані Ґібсон просто методично ігнорує final battle, бо так само було й в Нейроманті. Він абсолютно швидко і невимушено, проте логічно і послідовно, розрубує вузол конфлікту, який сплітався весь роман. Це настільки талановито, наскільки ж бунтарсько. Мовляв, ви чекаєте грандіозної битви, стінки на стінку, запеклої сутички з final boss'ом, а їх не буде. Бо в реальному житті все не так.
І так, цей роман по духу дуже нагадує збірку Спалити Хром. А початок лінії Тернера - пряма відсилка до оповідання Готель "Нью-Роуз". Але для цих двох томів спільною є тема людяності. Попри всі ринкові відносини, що панують між людьми в цьому світі, Ґібсон ненав'язливо показує: без хоча б дрібки людяності вся машина кібер(панку/простору) просто зупинилася б на місці. Хто думає інакше - дуже помиляється. Власне, більше й не скажу, щоб не спойлерити. Та й навіть зав'язку сюжету переказати складно, бо... Бо важко це зробити так, що не заспойлерити, але зацікавити. Бо три лінії настільки різні, що варто просто довіритися Ґібсону - і рушити за ним вслід за текстом. Це неодмінно винагородиться.
І одразу попереджу: цей роман Ґібсон задумував як другу частину трилогії. Це відчутно, бо жодної розв'язки ми не отримаємо. Точніше так, "тактичну" (тобто вирішення проблем головних героїв) ми отримаємо, але "стратегічну" (що за чортівня творилася весь роман?!) нам слід почекати до наступного тому.
В Зануленні Ґібсон підходить до побудови тексту та сюжету зовсім інакше. Ми занурюємося в три сюжетні лінії, між якими перемикання відбувається в режимі стробоскопа: тільки вдалося зрозуміти, що ж відбувається в одному епізоді однієї лінії, як ми одразу перемикаємося - і знову треба звикати, бо там нова ситуація. Це на початку втомлює, але після 2/3 роману раптом всі лінії складаються. Як пазл, причому миттєво. І після цього "перемикання" вже не дратує, а тільки додає розгортанню подій інтенсивності.
Зміна стилю, до речі, як я розумію, обурює багатьох фанатів циклу. Адже Нейромант написаний дуже нуарно, тобто головний герой (а там він один - Кейс) - це справжній анти-герой, а сама мова, якою він описує все, що з ним відбувається, дуже рвана і лаконічна. Натомість в Зануленні Ґібсон обирає повільніший темп. Тут і герої поводяться "спокійніше", і сама мова більш розлога. І темп оповіді повільніший.
Втім, до цього всього є ключ - речі. Ґібсон майже всюди додає описи матеріального світу. Герої вже не просто в кіберпросторі чи фізичному просторі, розміченому дуже умовно, як це було в Нейроманті. Ні, Ґібсон смакує описи - навіть якщо йдеться про стіл з вчорашнього бенкету одного ділка середнього розмаху. Цей поворот тут не випадковий, а є частиною послання автора. Власне тому хочеться відзначити саме український переклад назви - Занулення. В оригіналі - Count Zero, що може також означати "граф Нуль". Це нік одного з героїв роману, а тому росіяни так і написали "Граф Ноль". Втім, Ґібсону йдеться саме про занулення - системи, свідомості, суспільства. І поворот до речей тут центральний: як би не фантазували про кіберпростір як альтернативну реальність, рано чи пізно ми повертаємося до фізичного світу - речей та людей. Нам потрібен фізичний комфорт та безпечне і рідне коло людей. В цьому плані роман шикарний. Він не просто відтіняє Нейроманта, а навпаки - доповнює його.
І цілком погоджуюся з критиками: герої тут виписані просто шикарно. Тернер - найманець, його брат Руді та дружина Саллі, екс-кураторка галереї Марла та хотдожник Боббі Ньюмарк. Останній - просто перлина. Він починає роман як ламер, який мріє стати гакером (хотдожник, що хоче стати жокеєм), а завершує... Тут я лише можу зняти капелюха перед Ґібсоном. Фінал лінії Боббі просто чудовий. Ґібсон вкотре показує, що він ігнорує всі кліше, але водночас виписує таку класну історію, що вона не виглядає як "а зараз я так закручу сюжет, щоб ви аж охнули і не повірили, що так можна". Всі повороти в нього дуже логічні. Коли вони відбуваються, то відчуваєш не стільки здивування, що автор так закрутив, скільки... тепло чи сум за героїв. Бо це дуже правдиві повороти, які трапляються з живими людьми в реальному світі. Так Ґібсон створює відчуття справжності своїх героїв. До речі, другорядні персонажі також дуже виразні і запам'ятовуються.
В цьому плані Ґібсон просто методично ігнорує final battle, бо так само було й в Нейроманті. Він абсолютно швидко і невимушено, проте логічно і послідовно, розрубує вузол конфлікту, який сплітався весь роман. Це настільки талановито, наскільки ж бунтарсько. Мовляв, ви чекаєте грандіозної битви, стінки на стінку, запеклої сутички з final boss'ом, а їх не буде. Бо в реальному житті все не так.
І так, цей роман по духу дуже нагадує збірку Спалити Хром. А початок лінії Тернера - пряма відсилка до оповідання Готель "Нью-Роуз". Але для цих двох томів спільною є тема людяності. Попри всі ринкові відносини, що панують між людьми в цьому світі, Ґібсон ненав'язливо показує: без хоча б дрібки людяності вся машина кібер(панку/простору) просто зупинилася б на місці. Хто думає інакше - дуже помиляється. Власне, більше й не скажу, щоб не спойлерити. Та й навіть зав'язку сюжету переказати складно, бо... Бо важко це зробити так, що не заспойлерити, але зацікавити. Бо три лінії настільки різні, що варто просто довіритися Ґібсону - і рушити за ним вслід за текстом. Це неодмінно винагородиться.
November 13, 2015
A Modish Synopsis, A Modest Assemblage, A Little Looksee
It's a whole long story, and it's open to interpretation. Each chapter begins with a pronoun, or two. And then it's off like a robber's dog. I decided you and I might hit the matrix for a little looksee. You followed, forgetting your fears, forgetting the nausea and constant vertigo. You were there, and you understood this was our space, our construct. It came on, a flickering, non-linear flood of fact and sensory data, a kind of narrative conveyed in surreal jumpcuts and juxtapositions. Machine dreams. Rollercoaster. It was fast, too fast, too alien to grasp. You could hallucinate in the matrix as easily as anywhere else. You looked at me through the thicket of manipulators. I came simultaneously to see that I was the focus of some vast device fuelled by an obscure desire. I kissed your mouth as it opened, cut loose in time by talk and the fireflies and the subliminal triggers of memory. It seemed to me, as I ran my palms up the warmth of your white t-shirt, that the people in my life weren't beads strung on a wire of sequence, but clustered like quanta. Eventually, I came to feel that this was a situation in which real becomes merely another concept. It doesn't tell the whole story. Remember that. Nothing ever does...
SOUNDTRACK:
It's a whole long story, and it's open to interpretation. Each chapter begins with a pronoun, or two. And then it's off like a robber's dog. I decided you and I might hit the matrix for a little looksee. You followed, forgetting your fears, forgetting the nausea and constant vertigo. You were there, and you understood this was our space, our construct. It came on, a flickering, non-linear flood of fact and sensory data, a kind of narrative conveyed in surreal jumpcuts and juxtapositions. Machine dreams. Rollercoaster. It was fast, too fast, too alien to grasp. You could hallucinate in the matrix as easily as anywhere else. You looked at me through the thicket of manipulators. I came simultaneously to see that I was the focus of some vast device fuelled by an obscure desire. I kissed your mouth as it opened, cut loose in time by talk and the fireflies and the subliminal triggers of memory. It seemed to me, as I ran my palms up the warmth of your white t-shirt, that the people in my life weren't beads strung on a wire of sequence, but clustered like quanta. Eventually, I came to feel that this was a situation in which real becomes merely another concept. It doesn't tell the whole story. Remember that. Nothing ever does...
SOUNDTRACK:
August 1, 2018
Every time I re-read the Sprawl trilogy, I speed through "Neuromancer" and, when I get to it, "Mona Lisa Overdrive;" but "Count Zero" usually holds me up for a month at least. This time it held me up for about five months (granted, I've been busy with various personal projects, work, and wasting time online). Whatever. Gibson is one of my all-time favorite writers, I worship the keys he types on (be they computer or typewriter); but reading "Count Zero" is like trying to run through knee-high mud with a baby killer whale under each arm--and some very intriguing scenery off in the distance.
The plot is confusing to the point of seeming nonexistent, and when I finally did get it figured out, it didn't thrill me, chill me or fullfill me.
This book is Gibson's first experiment with multiple protagonists. I LOVE this model of storytelling, but none of these three really do it for me. Turner and Marley mostly bore me; Bobby feels alive, but I had some gripes with his character. Where Case was a dark new spin on the hacker archtype, Bobby is an '80s cliche (lives with his mother, owns porn, desperate to run with the cool crowd). On top of that, Bobby for some reason has to do or experience something disgusting at least once a chapter, for the first two thirds of the book. BUT, to be fair, Bobby does grow on you, and he's the only of the protagonists who feels alive from start to finish. He also delivers the most hilarious eulogy in all of fiction: "He was, he was a dude." On the other hand, Turner and Marley are wall-bangingly bland; maybe if the same characters appeared by another author, I wouldn't think so, but compared to Gibson's usually amazing characters, Turner and Marley are like slabs of cardboard for most of the book. Turner's chapters also involve some rather uncomfortable peodphilic moments when he's with Angie Mitchell.
But speaking of Angie Mitchell, the supporting cast of "Count Zero" is the reason to read it.
Angie Mitchell, the teenage girl whose scientist father put a matrix-linked implant in her brain, is going to be a great lead character in the final book, "Mona Lisa Overdrive." Then there's Jackie, the voodoo priestess hacker with computer chips in her cornrows; Rez, the butch pilot with the rose boob tattoo; Jaylene Slide; and the FINN. The Finn's sceen is the highlight of the book, and the one thing about "Count Zero" that I would call truly great. Jaylene Slide and her henchman Bunny, who fly in to save the day right the f**k out of nowhere within the last few chapters, are possibly THE most blatant example of a deus ex machina in all of fiction, but they're fittingly weird and badass so I don't mind at all. Granted, the fact that I'd completely stopped caring by the time they showed up helped.
Which brings me to one of the main problems with this book. With two out of the three protagonists boring me to tears for the first two thirds of the book, it took until this re-read (which must be read number I've-honestly-lost-count) for me to notice that they both become more alive and sympathetic in the last few chapters. Marley's final chapters are beautifully surreal. I applaud Gibson for conveying these characters being dead inside for most of the book, and then "waking up" so to speak at the end; but the problem is that with them being so "dead" for so long, I'd usually given up before their chapters got good, on most reads.
Finally, the writing style. For the most part, it's still Gibson's usual fantastic prose. Even at its most boring, "Count Zero" can be a serene and compelling read, just from the unique way Gibson words things. His descriptions of Turner's short dreams really stick in my mind (especially the line about how he "dreamed of running water;" for some reason I love that). But the atmosphere from "Neuromancer" is sadly lacking in this book, but a bit of it is still there, especially in the last few chapters.
My final complaint is that Gibson's usually clever vocabulary has taken a hit in this book. In "Neuromancer" we had "the Sprawl," "punching deck," "joeboys," "wintermute," and "Freeside;" here in "Count Zero," we have "Gothicks" and "Kasuals" (spelled exactly like that), "Big Playground," and "hot-doggers." Again, if this were another author, I wouldn't think as much of it. But this is Gibson, man! Luckily he dumps the '80s corn in "Mona Lisa Overdrive."
The book isn't bad by any means, it's okay. But the supporting characters really make me mourn for the far more interesting book that could have been. Why not let Angie and the Voodoo hackers be the center of the story? THAT would be a book I'd read the crap out of.
The plot is confusing to the point of seeming nonexistent, and when I finally did get it figured out, it didn't thrill me, chill me or fullfill me.
This book is Gibson's first experiment with multiple protagonists. I LOVE this model of storytelling, but none of these three really do it for me. Turner and Marley mostly bore me; Bobby feels alive, but I had some gripes with his character. Where Case was a dark new spin on the hacker archtype, Bobby is an '80s cliche (lives with his mother, owns porn, desperate to run with the cool crowd). On top of that, Bobby for some reason has to do or experience something disgusting at least once a chapter, for the first two thirds of the book. BUT, to be fair, Bobby does grow on you, and he's the only of the protagonists who feels alive from start to finish. He also delivers the most hilarious eulogy in all of fiction: "He was, he was a dude." On the other hand, Turner and Marley are wall-bangingly bland; maybe if the same characters appeared by another author, I wouldn't think so, but compared to Gibson's usually amazing characters, Turner and Marley are like slabs of cardboard for most of the book. Turner's chapters also involve some rather uncomfortable peodphilic moments when he's with Angie Mitchell.
But speaking of Angie Mitchell, the supporting cast of "Count Zero" is the reason to read it.
Angie Mitchell, the teenage girl whose scientist father put a matrix-linked implant in her brain, is going to be a great lead character in the final book, "Mona Lisa Overdrive." Then there's Jackie, the voodoo priestess hacker with computer chips in her cornrows; Rez, the butch pilot with the rose boob tattoo; Jaylene Slide; and the FINN. The Finn's sceen is the highlight of the book, and the one thing about "Count Zero" that I would call truly great. Jaylene Slide and her henchman Bunny, who fly in to save the day right the f**k out of nowhere within the last few chapters, are possibly THE most blatant example of a deus ex machina in all of fiction, but they're fittingly weird and badass so I don't mind at all. Granted, the fact that I'd completely stopped caring by the time they showed up helped.
Which brings me to one of the main problems with this book. With two out of the three protagonists boring me to tears for the first two thirds of the book, it took until this re-read (which must be read number I've-honestly-lost-count) for me to notice that they both become more alive and sympathetic in the last few chapters. Marley's final chapters are beautifully surreal. I applaud Gibson for conveying these characters being dead inside for most of the book, and then "waking up" so to speak at the end; but the problem is that with them being so "dead" for so long, I'd usually given up before their chapters got good, on most reads.
Finally, the writing style. For the most part, it's still Gibson's usual fantastic prose. Even at its most boring, "Count Zero" can be a serene and compelling read, just from the unique way Gibson words things. His descriptions of Turner's short dreams really stick in my mind (especially the line about how he "dreamed of running water;" for some reason I love that). But the atmosphere from "Neuromancer" is sadly lacking in this book, but a bit of it is still there, especially in the last few chapters.
My final complaint is that Gibson's usually clever vocabulary has taken a hit in this book. In "Neuromancer" we had "the Sprawl," "punching deck," "joeboys," "wintermute," and "Freeside;" here in "Count Zero," we have "Gothicks" and "Kasuals" (spelled exactly like that), "Big Playground," and "hot-doggers." Again, if this were another author, I wouldn't think as much of it. But this is Gibson, man! Luckily he dumps the '80s corn in "Mona Lisa Overdrive."
The book isn't bad by any means, it's okay. But the supporting characters really make me mourn for the far more interesting book that could have been. Why not let Angie and the Voodoo hackers be the center of the story? THAT would be a book I'd read the crap out of.
March 12, 2018
Barely made it to 3*s...
Parts of the book were good and made me want to keep reading, but then invariably the chapter changed and we went back to people whose story I wasn't interested in.
And in the end it just kinda all fizzles out... If it's going to do that I at least want it to make me think, like a Philip K Dick book, but this one almost just left me thinking that I was glad it was over because I can forget about it.
Parts of the book were good and made me want to keep reading, but then invariably the chapter changed and we went back to people whose story I wasn't interested in.
And in the end it just kinda all fizzles out... If it's going to do that I at least want it to make me think, like a Philip K Dick book, but this one almost just left me thinking that I was glad it was over because I can forget about it.
October 22, 2017
The second instalment in Gibson's sprawl series contains all the elements that made cyberpunk so much fun. The plot is a breakneck thrill ride complete with augmented humans, mercenaries, Rastafarian warriors and a tactical nuke. However, Gibson also finds room for plenty of brain food as we are forced to consider a future where government is irrelevant and information the only real currency.
June 16, 2022
This is the second volume of the Sprawl Trilogy and first of all I must say I found it easier to follow than the first volume was (Neuromancer). There are basically three subplots running through the novel. The first follows Turner, who has been hired to get a scientist named Mitchell out of Maas. The second follows Marly Krushkhova, a sometime art gallery owner in Paris who is taken on by a trillionaire named Josef Virek who lives in a vat in Stockholm and is seeking immortality. The third follows Bobby Newmark (AKA Count Zero) who at the beginning is living with his mother in Barrytown, New Jersey, in the Sprawl, the urban conglomerate which stretches down the East Coast from Boston to Atlanta. Their's is a world of high tech, dominated by multinational corporations and super wealthy clans, with the masses living in places like the Sprawl. The chapters alternate between these three main characters and their accomplices, friends, or whoever. Eventually their paths converge to produce a satisfying ending.
June 7, 2017
There was a time in my life where cyberpunk was where it was at and this book really fitted the bill.
February 17, 2019
Not gonna lie, this book took me a while.
Part of me thinks those who give it a good review are too proud to admit they didn't understand a word of it, thereby admitting their ignorance. Another part of me thinks those who give it a good review are simply relying on the fact that it's a cyberpunk classic. Either way, WHAT EVEN IS THIS BOOK?!?
Or maybe I'm just too stupid to understand it. Here's the thing: Gibson can obviously put words together to form a coherent thought. That's not the issue. My main complaint with this book (and the previous one, Neuromancer, as well) is that he just doesn't give you a sense of logic in the sequence of events, thereby failing to build a cohesive story.
The man has obviously never heard of an introductory sentence before. He gives us these brand names and products they use in his futuristic universe, but never (I mean NEVER) explains what they are or how they work. I get it that we're supposed to intuit these details from the context, but if you never take the time to set up said context in the first place, the reader is left scratching their head, wondering why this or that is happening to so-and-so.
All I'm saying is he should have written it more like a Dutch angle and less like shaky cam. At least with the Dutch angle you can tell what's going on. Long story short, this book is a MESS.
Part of me thinks those who give it a good review are too proud to admit they didn't understand a word of it, thereby admitting their ignorance. Another part of me thinks those who give it a good review are simply relying on the fact that it's a cyberpunk classic. Either way, WHAT EVEN IS THIS BOOK?!?
Or maybe I'm just too stupid to understand it. Here's the thing: Gibson can obviously put words together to form a coherent thought. That's not the issue. My main complaint with this book (and the previous one, Neuromancer, as well) is that he just doesn't give you a sense of logic in the sequence of events, thereby failing to build a cohesive story.
The man has obviously never heard of an introductory sentence before. He gives us these brand names and products they use in his futuristic universe, but never (I mean NEVER) explains what they are or how they work. I get it that we're supposed to intuit these details from the context, but if you never take the time to set up said context in the first place, the reader is left scratching their head, wondering why this or that is happening to so-and-so.
All I'm saying is he should have written it more like a Dutch angle and less like shaky cam. At least with the Dutch angle you can tell what's going on. Long story short, this book is a MESS.
March 28, 2017
-Otro libro del padre putativo del Cyberpunk pero cuidando más las formas desde lo narrativamente convencional.-
Género. Ciencia ficción.
Lo que nos cuenta. Turner es un mercenario especializado en operaciones de extracción que tras ser dañado en un atentado provoca dudas sobre su capacidad actual en sus nuevos potenciales empleadores. Marly es una galerista caída en desgracia por un escándalo de falsificación del que en realidad no era directamente responsable y que ahora parece ser del interés de un famosísimo y multimillonario coleccionista de arte para que forme parte de su personal. Bobby Newmark, más conocido como Conde Cero en su mundillo, es un hacker novato y ambicioso que al trabajar un software que nunca había visto para invadir una base de datos sufre un ataque de las correspondientes contramedidas electrónicas que teóricamente debería terminar con él, aunque algo que parece fruto de su imaginación o incluso de una alucinación lo impide. Segundo libro de la trilogía del Sprawl (o del Ensanche) pero no una continuación propiamente dicha de “Neuromante”, el primer libro de la serie.
¿Quiere saber más de este libro, sin spoilers? Visite:
http://librosdeolethros.blogspot.com/...
Género. Ciencia ficción.
Lo que nos cuenta. Turner es un mercenario especializado en operaciones de extracción que tras ser dañado en un atentado provoca dudas sobre su capacidad actual en sus nuevos potenciales empleadores. Marly es una galerista caída en desgracia por un escándalo de falsificación del que en realidad no era directamente responsable y que ahora parece ser del interés de un famosísimo y multimillonario coleccionista de arte para que forme parte de su personal. Bobby Newmark, más conocido como Conde Cero en su mundillo, es un hacker novato y ambicioso que al trabajar un software que nunca había visto para invadir una base de datos sufre un ataque de las correspondientes contramedidas electrónicas que teóricamente debería terminar con él, aunque algo que parece fruto de su imaginación o incluso de una alucinación lo impide. Segundo libro de la trilogía del Sprawl (o del Ensanche) pero no una continuación propiamente dicha de “Neuromante”, el primer libro de la serie.
¿Quiere saber más de este libro, sin spoilers? Visite:
http://librosdeolethros.blogspot.com/...
January 29, 2012
This review was written in the late nineties (for my eyes only), and it was buried in amongst my things until recently when I uncovered the journal in which it was written. I have transcribed it verbatim from all those years ago (although square brackets may indicate some additional information for the sake of readability or some sort of commentary from now). This is one of my lost reviews.
"She's gone and the present is trivia." That line from Memento scrawled in my handwriting at the back of Count Zero. It captures the hyperreality of Count Zero.
I sure dig Turner, the extractor, in this tale. Distant, cold, re-built, Turner becomes the most traditionally romantic of Gibson's Sprawl characters. [I must have been drunk when I wrote this. What a bizarre review. It's mroe like a list.]
My favourite is young Bobby, the count himself. He's not pathetic. he's never whiny. And he's got big, brass balls. Go Bobby. To cap it all off he gets the girl. What I missed in Count Zero was Neuromancer/Wintermute. Sure there were references, but its power was so huge that it could no longer engage as a character. Bummer.
Still, I dug this book. Fun, thought-provoking, riddled with despair. It's a future I see coming, and as depressing as it is I'd like to live to see it. I could be part of it. A world of action. The old west everywhere.
"She's gone and the present is trivia." That line from Memento scrawled in my handwriting at the back of Count Zero. It captures the hyperreality of Count Zero.
I sure dig Turner, the extractor, in this tale. Distant, cold, re-built, Turner becomes the most traditionally romantic of Gibson's Sprawl characters. [I must have been drunk when I wrote this. What a bizarre review. It's mroe like a list.]
My favourite is young Bobby, the count himself. He's not pathetic. he's never whiny. And he's got big, brass balls. Go Bobby. To cap it all off he gets the girl. What I missed in Count Zero was Neuromancer/Wintermute. Sure there were references, but its power was so huge that it could no longer engage as a character. Bummer.
Still, I dug this book. Fun, thought-provoking, riddled with despair. It's a future I see coming, and as depressing as it is I'd like to live to see it. I could be part of it. A world of action. The old west everywhere.
July 15, 2009
My problem with a lot of genre fiction is that when not wholly unimaginative, it is often too restrained and quasi-literary to take full advantage of the opportunities open to it. Not so here. Gibson shows a rare willingness to plunge as far into his crazed techno-mythology as I could reasonably hope. Haitian gods manifesting (or seeming to manifest) in lost corners of the internet, megacorporations more powerful than nations which have all but ceased to exist, rewired brains and bodies, and pilgrimage to the broken chapels of scuttled spacecraft. Some definite plots holes and inconsistencies, but this is first-rate pulp anyway, lurching directly between startling inventions and pushing creative license as far as needed.
April 18, 2015
William Gibson can write. I keep exploring this in different ways and different words as I read through Gibson’s oeuvre, but in the end it comes down to two appropriately alliterative words: William Gibson has voice and vision. He has a way with language that not every writer, even really good ones, ever manages to master. He knows how to use and manipulate words and phrases to create cultures. With this talent, he creates novels that conjure up pocket universes of our future.
Count Zero is much more spiritual and emotionally evocative than its predecessor, Neuromancer. There are three main characters and three intertwined plots. Turner is a mercenary hired to manage the defection of a scientist from one transnational to another, but he ends up with the scientist’s daughter instead. Bobby, who is attempting to establish himself as a console cowboy by the name of “Count Zero”, finds himself neck-deep in a situation far more serious than he ever desired to encounter. And Marly is a curator hunting up the provenance of an intrigue art object at the behest of a reclusive collector. At the risk of sounding reductionist, the three plotlines conveniently symbolize three of the primary themes in Count Zero: a weary mercenary confronting the emptiness of his chosen profession; a new, untested youth struggling with his coming-of-age; and a young woman pulled inexorably deeper into the grey and black areas of the art world, pulled by a man who is not entirely human anymore.
So there is no denying that Count Zero is a complex book, when one really stops to consider everything that happens in it. The language that Gibson uses can often conceal this fact, because sometimes it is difficult to follow the train of the story (or at least, I found this to be the case). There is a lyrical, almost dream-like quality to his prose; I encountered this in some of his other novels, but it seems particularly noticeable in this one. Sometimes this vagueness is advantageous. For example, Gibson does not go into detail when he explains how the consensual illusion that is cyberspace is generated, nor how the “decks” that console cowboys use work. This lends a timeless quality to the setting (though his use of the term tapes stands out as an exception).
With that in mind, then, I don’t see Count Zero as the best or the easiest of Gibson’s novels. But that’s almost like saying The Tempest is neither the best nor the easiest of Shakespeare’s plays—this is still a fine book. In particular, I love the hints and whispers at post/trans-humanism that permeate the story. They never quite overwhelm the narrative (Gibson’s vagueness can also be a consequence of the fact that he is so damned subtle). Yet they crop up at the most interesting moments. In Neuromancer Gibson raised questions regarding how an AI that is essentially an alien being would co-exist with humanity. He never quite re-visits the fate of the Neuromancer/Wintermute construct, but he drops all these tantalizing hints about strange things happening in cyberspace, not to mention the odd god inhabiting space junk in orbit.
On the other side of the divide, we have humans like Turner or Angela or even Bobby, people who have jacks that allow them to download data directly into their brain. I honestly don’t know why N. Katherine Hayles has had such an effect on me, since I only ever read a single article by her so far—but I keep seeing the motif of embodiment show up all the time in my posthuman fiction. Turner might be a cyborg, and his body might recently have undergone dramatic reconstructive surgery. But he still has a body. And so, unlike the shady Josef Virek, who is more of a construct than a human being any more, Turner is still human—or at least, seems to perform as human in a way that satisfies the rest of us. Gibson is good at asking these questions without beating them over our heads. There is a refreshing lack of pretentiousness to books like Count Zero, even as they force us to think about difficult ideas.
The second instalment in the Sprawl trilogy also recalls Gibson’s post-national corporate-driven vision of the future. In this case, it’s tech giants Hosaka and Maas Industries competing for a brilliant researcher by the name of Mitchell. He has been developing revolutionary biochip technology for Maas, but now apparently he wants to defect to Hosaka. This little game of industrial brinksmanship has its precedent in present-day industry, of course, but I suspect that few companies go to the lengths that Hosaka does, hiring mercenaries and a medical team to extract any destructive implants Maas might have installed to dissuade Mitchell from walking. In this future, the companies might not own you outright, but they almost certainly own you in any way that matters. And this vision has never been more compelling, because as Gibson himself has famously said, “the future is already here—it’s just not evenly distributed”. I can’t speak to what Gibson had in mind when he wrote Count Zero or what contemporary readers might have imagined, but it certainly resonates with some of the events that are happening globally today, such as the Occupy Wall Street movement and, in general, the growing awareness that corporations have a great deal of influence in the political process.
Although not my favourite aspect of Count Zero, its spiritual component deserves consideration as well. Science and secularism seems to go hand-in-hand these days. Certainly, I consider science’s foundation on rational principles one of the influences on my transition to agnosticism and eventually atheism as I grew to adulthood. Yet this partnership has not, historically, always been the case. Science and spirituality have a much longer history, and many science fiction authors acknowledge this fact. In this book, some of the minor characters are involved in a techno-voodoo worship of loa that inhabit cyberspace. These loa manifest at unpredictable moments and “ride” a chosen human body, a point that becomes important at the climax of the novel. Gibson declines to pull back the curtain and explain the true nature of the loa (there are certainly hints that they are related to an AI or even to Neuromancer/Wintermute itself). So it’s a worthwhile question: regardless of the existence of an actual deity, what are we going to encounter if we continue to create and inhabit digital spaces? What will happen as we allow programs to go feral, to roam, and to mix code in unpredictable ways?
I don’t always love Gibson’s novels, but I do always appreciate them. Quality triumphs over quantity, and while Gibson has not been as prolific as some of his contemporaries, his novels are always worth reading. He has a grasp on the ways in which technology challenges and changes our society, the ways we react to these changes and initiate our own. His characters feel real and always have interesting, diverse voices, whether it’s Turner, Bobby, or even a minor character like the Finn. Gibson provides a general vocabulary and dialect, but inflection and idiom are always the character’s own. Such attentiveness! Such style! Count Zero is interesting and cool, and it’s a well-written piece of science fiction. Although it did not quite manage to capture and hold my attention like Pattern Recognition did, I still enjoyed it thoroughly.
My reviews of the Sprawl trilogy:
← Neuromancer | Mona Lisa Overdrive →
Count Zero is much more spiritual and emotionally evocative than its predecessor, Neuromancer. There are three main characters and three intertwined plots. Turner is a mercenary hired to manage the defection of a scientist from one transnational to another, but he ends up with the scientist’s daughter instead. Bobby, who is attempting to establish himself as a console cowboy by the name of “Count Zero”, finds himself neck-deep in a situation far more serious than he ever desired to encounter. And Marly is a curator hunting up the provenance of an intrigue art object at the behest of a reclusive collector. At the risk of sounding reductionist, the three plotlines conveniently symbolize three of the primary themes in Count Zero: a weary mercenary confronting the emptiness of his chosen profession; a new, untested youth struggling with his coming-of-age; and a young woman pulled inexorably deeper into the grey and black areas of the art world, pulled by a man who is not entirely human anymore.
So there is no denying that Count Zero is a complex book, when one really stops to consider everything that happens in it. The language that Gibson uses can often conceal this fact, because sometimes it is difficult to follow the train of the story (or at least, I found this to be the case). There is a lyrical, almost dream-like quality to his prose; I encountered this in some of his other novels, but it seems particularly noticeable in this one. Sometimes this vagueness is advantageous. For example, Gibson does not go into detail when he explains how the consensual illusion that is cyberspace is generated, nor how the “decks” that console cowboys use work. This lends a timeless quality to the setting (though his use of the term tapes stands out as an exception).
With that in mind, then, I don’t see Count Zero as the best or the easiest of Gibson’s novels. But that’s almost like saying The Tempest is neither the best nor the easiest of Shakespeare’s plays—this is still a fine book. In particular, I love the hints and whispers at post/trans-humanism that permeate the story. They never quite overwhelm the narrative (Gibson’s vagueness can also be a consequence of the fact that he is so damned subtle). Yet they crop up at the most interesting moments. In Neuromancer Gibson raised questions regarding how an AI that is essentially an alien being would co-exist with humanity. He never quite re-visits the fate of the Neuromancer/Wintermute construct, but he drops all these tantalizing hints about strange things happening in cyberspace, not to mention the odd god inhabiting space junk in orbit.
On the other side of the divide, we have humans like Turner or Angela or even Bobby, people who have jacks that allow them to download data directly into their brain. I honestly don’t know why N. Katherine Hayles has had such an effect on me, since I only ever read a single article by her so far—but I keep seeing the motif of embodiment show up all the time in my posthuman fiction. Turner might be a cyborg, and his body might recently have undergone dramatic reconstructive surgery. But he still has a body. And so, unlike the shady Josef Virek, who is more of a construct than a human being any more, Turner is still human—or at least, seems to perform as human in a way that satisfies the rest of us. Gibson is good at asking these questions without beating them over our heads. There is a refreshing lack of pretentiousness to books like Count Zero, even as they force us to think about difficult ideas.
The second instalment in the Sprawl trilogy also recalls Gibson’s post-national corporate-driven vision of the future. In this case, it’s tech giants Hosaka and Maas Industries competing for a brilliant researcher by the name of Mitchell. He has been developing revolutionary biochip technology for Maas, but now apparently he wants to defect to Hosaka. This little game of industrial brinksmanship has its precedent in present-day industry, of course, but I suspect that few companies go to the lengths that Hosaka does, hiring mercenaries and a medical team to extract any destructive implants Maas might have installed to dissuade Mitchell from walking. In this future, the companies might not own you outright, but they almost certainly own you in any way that matters. And this vision has never been more compelling, because as Gibson himself has famously said, “the future is already here—it’s just not evenly distributed”. I can’t speak to what Gibson had in mind when he wrote Count Zero or what contemporary readers might have imagined, but it certainly resonates with some of the events that are happening globally today, such as the Occupy Wall Street movement and, in general, the growing awareness that corporations have a great deal of influence in the political process.
Although not my favourite aspect of Count Zero, its spiritual component deserves consideration as well. Science and secularism seems to go hand-in-hand these days. Certainly, I consider science’s foundation on rational principles one of the influences on my transition to agnosticism and eventually atheism as I grew to adulthood. Yet this partnership has not, historically, always been the case. Science and spirituality have a much longer history, and many science fiction authors acknowledge this fact. In this book, some of the minor characters are involved in a techno-voodoo worship of loa that inhabit cyberspace. These loa manifest at unpredictable moments and “ride” a chosen human body, a point that becomes important at the climax of the novel. Gibson declines to pull back the curtain and explain the true nature of the loa (there are certainly hints that they are related to an AI or even to Neuromancer/Wintermute itself). So it’s a worthwhile question: regardless of the existence of an actual deity, what are we going to encounter if we continue to create and inhabit digital spaces? What will happen as we allow programs to go feral, to roam, and to mix code in unpredictable ways?
I don’t always love Gibson’s novels, but I do always appreciate them. Quality triumphs over quantity, and while Gibson has not been as prolific as some of his contemporaries, his novels are always worth reading. He has a grasp on the ways in which technology challenges and changes our society, the ways we react to these changes and initiate our own. His characters feel real and always have interesting, diverse voices, whether it’s Turner, Bobby, or even a minor character like the Finn. Gibson provides a general vocabulary and dialect, but inflection and idiom are always the character’s own. Such attentiveness! Such style! Count Zero is interesting and cool, and it’s a well-written piece of science fiction. Although it did not quite manage to capture and hold my attention like Pattern Recognition did, I still enjoyed it thoroughly.
My reviews of the Sprawl trilogy:
← Neuromancer | Mona Lisa Overdrive →
July 29, 2015
With each review I write, I become increasingly daunted by a sense of infinite possibility. I have an entire book, this Count Zero, to write about – what in the world should I focus on? The question in turn gives rise to an equally haunting sense of relativism. Is this book good? Sure. Is this book bad? Sure. With few exceptions, a good book is not infallibly so nor a bad book insurmountably so. Rather, the goodness or badness is a choice I, the reader, must make.
Yet when I make that choice – to be positive or to be negative – and then write my review, my chosen perspective will percolate backwards in time and memory and retroactively alter the focus of my thoughts on the book. Simply put, deciding it is good will MAKE it good while deciding it is bad will MAKE it bad. To quote Bruce Lee: when you pour water into a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle.
What’s a reader to do with the vast sea of literature that lies between the unquestionably stupendous and the indisputably horrendous? Become the bottle or the cup?
I’m not sure what’s caused this, but I can guess. My mental library only increases. I only add books and never take away. Only the hordes of death and disease threaten my library! And I thus far remain stalwart against these inevitable foemen. As such, the styles and ideas have begun to blend into each other, so that each story invokes a dull version of déjà vu. To the youthful, newness and goodness correlate. But I am not so youthful anymore and I must adjust…
Furthermore, my engagement with my mental library has taken on a different tone because I’ve gotten my own hands dirty with the book biz. Unsurprisingly, the once bright realm of words is less golden and more gilded. You would not, for example, believe some of the responses I’ve gotten from editors, who give feedback that’s borderline nonsense. Somehow I expected more than tired eyes. As a result, books don’t seem so SACRED, anymore. Less a diamond sculpture and more like a statue of ice. Mutable. Melting, dulling – and so easy to kick over.
Books and the stories within them no longer seem like great FORCES of nature, which transport me – often without my noticing it – into fantastical realms, feeding my subconscious direct like some sort of IV drip filled with idea, scenery, and character. Rather, they’ve become personalized transportation. The author is not a tornado but a cab driver. Certainly I am transported from realm to realm, but I do so aware of the transportation. Books now represent individual works by individual persons. Flawed and imperfect.
Simultaneously in my life, I’ve learned that love is also not a great FORCE of nature. It’s a great CHOICE of humankind. It no longer surprises me, for example, to learn that a wife can continue to love her abusive husband for years and years. It no longer surprises me to watch a parent love his insane, spoiled child when doing so, to the degree it is done, only harms that child’s future. I am no longer filled with a hot rage over such things, but sorrowful compassion. No more do I believe this apparent foolishness of love suggests an ANIMAL love. Maybe it does. I am not so sure. I happen to now think that these flawed loves persist not because they are instinctual and pathetic but because the lover made the CHOICE to love and therefore became defined by it. Thus defined, they could no longer give up the love without their identity becoming destroyed. Such thoughts give rise to more doubts and more questions. Is it better to control your love or be controlled by it? Or is there any difference between the two?
Well. Somehow I have managed to write many paragraphs in a book review without saying a word about the book. You may even wonder what any of this has to do with it. I hope not but allow me to be more direct:
I likewise struggle with the decision to consider my reading of Count Zero a win or a lose. It contains elements I love: noir! voodoo! the rising specter of corpotocracy! cyberpunk! I’ll have you know I kickstarted the latest Shadowrun game by Harebrained Games, so you can imagine ‘street samurai’ and ‘cyberdecks’ are right up my alley. And AI. Man, I love AI. I love how AI will free humanity of such a burden on our shoulders. Count Zero has lots and lots of AI, including AI who think they’re voodoo gods. So, yeah, I dream of the friend who will sit with me and argue about the future of robots. Barring the real existence of such a friend, however, this and other books will suffice.
And the style, sharp and purposefully obscure, with the near death of major characters happening off the screen and told in retrospect, and jargon and terminology thrown around like ninja stars: difficult but interesting.
AND YET… despite the plot’s scope being superficially large and magnificent, the actual sense of scope felt anything but. One of the three PoVs, for example, was an art dealer named Marly whose connection with the story could best be described as ‘accidental.’ Another of the PoVs, a for-hire corporate samurai named Turner, possessed no personal stake in any of the proceedings. And the book seemed to take for granted that I would automatically dislike the mega-rich CEO fella who is at the heart of the plot’s machinations, when I felt no such thing at all. His ultimate fate seemed perfunctory, abrupt, and anti-climactic. Indeed, the threads which bound the three PoVs together never tightened in unity in the same compelling way that, say, the threads in Game of Thrones do. Rather, their connection was accidental at best. In fact, that’s the best word I can use to describe my overall sense of interface with this book: accidental. My enjoyment of the book felt accidental, like I just so happened to be in the right mood, with the right amount of time, to engage with it. The plot and everything that happens feels like one big accident.
And yet I cannot argue that this makes the book less good. Less compelling, yes. But I am rather leery of the notion that compelling can or should be equated with good.
So then we return, do I become the bottle or the cup? Do I say this book is good or it is bad? Do I recommend it?
At times like these, I find myself returning to a quote that has in many ways defined me, both as a person and as a writer, from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself. He wrote,
Knowing as I now do what it takes to write a book, that it represents in a very real sense, a sliver of an author’s life, as potent as a horcrux, I find myself unwilling to take very seriously the stars I could give or not give. Even more, it feels insulting and dehumanizing. Here is a human: a complex spiral of DNA, one among many permutations it could have been, with memories and actions both good and bad, of high quality and low. Who will judge this pitiful creature and call it angel or demon? Here, then, is Count Zero: a complex weave of words, one among many permutations it could have been, some good and some bad. You can find either in it and which side of the coin you choose to focus on depends on you.
Me, I’ll just appreciate a good noir cyberpunk tale, admit its faults, and move on to the next book like a sort of readerly ninja practicing his forms. A cop out, for sure, but then I do believe that was my point.
Yet when I make that choice – to be positive or to be negative – and then write my review, my chosen perspective will percolate backwards in time and memory and retroactively alter the focus of my thoughts on the book. Simply put, deciding it is good will MAKE it good while deciding it is bad will MAKE it bad. To quote Bruce Lee: when you pour water into a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle.
What’s a reader to do with the vast sea of literature that lies between the unquestionably stupendous and the indisputably horrendous? Become the bottle or the cup?
I’m not sure what’s caused this, but I can guess. My mental library only increases. I only add books and never take away. Only the hordes of death and disease threaten my library! And I thus far remain stalwart against these inevitable foemen. As such, the styles and ideas have begun to blend into each other, so that each story invokes a dull version of déjà vu. To the youthful, newness and goodness correlate. But I am not so youthful anymore and I must adjust…
Furthermore, my engagement with my mental library has taken on a different tone because I’ve gotten my own hands dirty with the book biz. Unsurprisingly, the once bright realm of words is less golden and more gilded. You would not, for example, believe some of the responses I’ve gotten from editors, who give feedback that’s borderline nonsense. Somehow I expected more than tired eyes. As a result, books don’t seem so SACRED, anymore. Less a diamond sculpture and more like a statue of ice. Mutable. Melting, dulling – and so easy to kick over.
Books and the stories within them no longer seem like great FORCES of nature, which transport me – often without my noticing it – into fantastical realms, feeding my subconscious direct like some sort of IV drip filled with idea, scenery, and character. Rather, they’ve become personalized transportation. The author is not a tornado but a cab driver. Certainly I am transported from realm to realm, but I do so aware of the transportation. Books now represent individual works by individual persons. Flawed and imperfect.
Simultaneously in my life, I’ve learned that love is also not a great FORCE of nature. It’s a great CHOICE of humankind. It no longer surprises me, for example, to learn that a wife can continue to love her abusive husband for years and years. It no longer surprises me to watch a parent love his insane, spoiled child when doing so, to the degree it is done, only harms that child’s future. I am no longer filled with a hot rage over such things, but sorrowful compassion. No more do I believe this apparent foolishness of love suggests an ANIMAL love. Maybe it does. I am not so sure. I happen to now think that these flawed loves persist not because they are instinctual and pathetic but because the lover made the CHOICE to love and therefore became defined by it. Thus defined, they could no longer give up the love without their identity becoming destroyed. Such thoughts give rise to more doubts and more questions. Is it better to control your love or be controlled by it? Or is there any difference between the two?
Well. Somehow I have managed to write many paragraphs in a book review without saying a word about the book. You may even wonder what any of this has to do with it. I hope not but allow me to be more direct:
I likewise struggle with the decision to consider my reading of Count Zero a win or a lose. It contains elements I love: noir! voodoo! the rising specter of corpotocracy! cyberpunk! I’ll have you know I kickstarted the latest Shadowrun game by Harebrained Games, so you can imagine ‘street samurai’ and ‘cyberdecks’ are right up my alley. And AI. Man, I love AI. I love how AI will free humanity of such a burden on our shoulders. Count Zero has lots and lots of AI, including AI who think they’re voodoo gods. So, yeah, I dream of the friend who will sit with me and argue about the future of robots. Barring the real existence of such a friend, however, this and other books will suffice.
And the style, sharp and purposefully obscure, with the near death of major characters happening off the screen and told in retrospect, and jargon and terminology thrown around like ninja stars: difficult but interesting.
AND YET… despite the plot’s scope being superficially large and magnificent, the actual sense of scope felt anything but. One of the three PoVs, for example, was an art dealer named Marly whose connection with the story could best be described as ‘accidental.’ Another of the PoVs, a for-hire corporate samurai named Turner, possessed no personal stake in any of the proceedings. And the book seemed to take for granted that I would automatically dislike the mega-rich CEO fella who is at the heart of the plot’s machinations, when I felt no such thing at all. His ultimate fate seemed perfunctory, abrupt, and anti-climactic. Indeed, the threads which bound the three PoVs together never tightened in unity in the same compelling way that, say, the threads in Game of Thrones do. Rather, their connection was accidental at best. In fact, that’s the best word I can use to describe my overall sense of interface with this book: accidental. My enjoyment of the book felt accidental, like I just so happened to be in the right mood, with the right amount of time, to engage with it. The plot and everything that happens feels like one big accident.
And yet I cannot argue that this makes the book less good. Less compelling, yes. But I am rather leery of the notion that compelling can or should be equated with good.
So then we return, do I become the bottle or the cup? Do I say this book is good or it is bad? Do I recommend it?
At times like these, I find myself returning to a quote that has in many ways defined me, both as a person and as a writer, from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself. He wrote,
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself.
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
Knowing as I now do what it takes to write a book, that it represents in a very real sense, a sliver of an author’s life, as potent as a horcrux, I find myself unwilling to take very seriously the stars I could give or not give. Even more, it feels insulting and dehumanizing. Here is a human: a complex spiral of DNA, one among many permutations it could have been, with memories and actions both good and bad, of high quality and low. Who will judge this pitiful creature and call it angel or demon? Here, then, is Count Zero: a complex weave of words, one among many permutations it could have been, some good and some bad. You can find either in it and which side of the coin you choose to focus on depends on you.
Me, I’ll just appreciate a good noir cyberpunk tale, admit its faults, and move on to the next book like a sort of readerly ninja practicing his forms. A cop out, for sure, but then I do believe that was my point.
December 10, 2019
This is the second volume of Sprawl trilogy. It was nominated for Hugo, Nebula and Locus Awards. I read as a part of the Sprawl chalenge in Hugo & Nebula Awards: Best Novels group.
It is not a direct sequel, more a book set in the same world. The prose is still very dense and without clear ‘preparations’ before each big plot turn/reveal, which makes it a very bad book for audio – too often you have to look back to understand what’s going on.
The story starts with blowing up of a mercenary, Turner. He is literally put together in a clinic and decides to drop from radars but is found for the next job. The job is to help a leading R&D man, who works on bio-chips, to change his corporate affiliation. The parallel plotline follows a ‘hotdogger’ (small fish hacker) from the Rustbelt, Bobby Newmark (aka Count Zero) who flatlines on his first run but is saved by an entity in the cyberspace. The third plotline concern Marly Krushkhova, a former gallerist, who is hired by superrich Josef Virek to find out a person, who made some strange art.
With a poetic vigor the author mixes absolutely alien concepts, like cyberspace and voodoo to produce a unique amalgamation. I guess this book wins from re-reading but to pile through it for the first time is a challenge.
It is not a direct sequel, more a book set in the same world. The prose is still very dense and without clear ‘preparations’ before each big plot turn/reveal, which makes it a very bad book for audio – too often you have to look back to understand what’s going on.
The story starts with blowing up of a mercenary, Turner. He is literally put together in a clinic and decides to drop from radars but is found for the next job. The job is to help a leading R&D man, who works on bio-chips, to change his corporate affiliation. The parallel plotline follows a ‘hotdogger’ (small fish hacker) from the Rustbelt, Bobby Newmark (aka Count Zero) who flatlines on his first run but is saved by an entity in the cyberspace. The third plotline concern Marly Krushkhova, a former gallerist, who is hired by superrich Josef Virek to find out a person, who made some strange art.
With a poetic vigor the author mixes absolutely alien concepts, like cyberspace and voodoo to produce a unique amalgamation. I guess this book wins from re-reading but to pile through it for the first time is a challenge.
November 16, 2020
"Gli sembrò, per un secondo, di sentire l'intero Sprawl respirare, e il suo respiro era vecchio e malato e stanco, su e giù lungo le stazioni da Boston ad Atlanta..."
È tutto troppo spiegato in Count zero (Giù nel cyberspazio). Come se qualcuno avesse detto a Gibson che era stato bravo con Neuromante, ma doveva rendere più accessibile il secondo.
Le tre storie filano fin troppo lisce, si capisce tutto più o meno subito (tranne che correlazione c'è tra loro). Cominciano ad intrecciarsi solo nelle ultime 100 pagine, dando vita ad un finale che davvero mi è piaciuto un sacco.
Nonostante l'ottimo finale, però, gli preferisco Neuromante. Chiede e dà di più al lettore. Più complesso, più cyberpunk, più alieno.
È tutto troppo spiegato in Count zero (Giù nel cyberspazio). Come se qualcuno avesse detto a Gibson che era stato bravo con Neuromante, ma doveva rendere più accessibile il secondo.
Le tre storie filano fin troppo lisce, si capisce tutto più o meno subito (tranne che correlazione c'è tra loro). Cominciano ad intrecciarsi solo nelle ultime 100 pagine, dando vita ad un finale che davvero mi è piaciuto un sacco.
Nonostante l'ottimo finale, però, gli preferisco Neuromante. Chiede e dà di più al lettore. Più complesso, più cyberpunk, più alieno.
July 25, 2025
A Cyberspace Cowboy
Count Zero was the first book in William Gibson's Cyberspace trilogy I read. I picked it up in an airport bookstore, where it was on display, so it was probably pretty newly published -- let's say 1984. The Internet existed -- I had been using it to send email, although that was still pretty difficult and took some figgerin. It would be another ten years before Tim Berners-Lee's World-Wide Web got off the ground as a thing that any academic could use, and thus a version of Gibson's cyberspace became real. There were no eBooks back them (not really), which meant that a person like me, who must ALWAYS have a book to read, had to carry a backpack full of heavy paper books when I traveled. A quick glance in the bookstore made it clear that Count Zero was my kind of book. And it was.
As it happens, the series works almost equally well in the order Count Zero, Neuromancer, Mona Lisa Overdrive as the canonical order. Sally is the only major character who runs through the entire series, even including Burning Chrome. (Well, perhaps also The Finn, but his "major" status is debatable.)
Although there are several point-of-view characters, I always think of Count Zero as Bobby's book, and -- let's be fair -- the title Count Zero is Bobby's handle, so that's not unreasonable. In each book of the Cyberspace trilogy point of view cycles through a cast of four or five characters. This was the first book like that that I remember to have read, and it was a little disorienting, but I got used to it pretty quickly. Bobby is a teenage kid who wants to become a cyberspace cowboy. You can probably guess roughly what that means. The other point-of-view characters are also marginal criminal low-lifes.
They are the natural denizens of a dystopian future, in which capitalism run riot has made a Hell of the world for almost everyone. No, not like the world we live in now, but as if everything that was going wrong in 1984 continued to get worse and worse with higher and higher tech -- the rich get richer and the poor get much, much poorer. Everything is a scam and everyone is on the take. It's very much in the "if this goes on" science fiction tradition.
Three spectacularly good novels -- prophetic in some ways, but not (as yet) in others.
Blog review.
Count Zero was the first book in William Gibson's Cyberspace trilogy I read. I picked it up in an airport bookstore, where it was on display, so it was probably pretty newly published -- let's say 1984. The Internet existed -- I had been using it to send email, although that was still pretty difficult and took some figgerin. It would be another ten years before Tim Berners-Lee's World-Wide Web got off the ground as a thing that any academic could use, and thus a version of Gibson's cyberspace became real. There were no eBooks back them (not really), which meant that a person like me, who must ALWAYS have a book to read, had to carry a backpack full of heavy paper books when I traveled. A quick glance in the bookstore made it clear that Count Zero was my kind of book. And it was.
As it happens, the series works almost equally well in the order Count Zero, Neuromancer, Mona Lisa Overdrive as the canonical order. Sally is the only major character who runs through the entire series, even including Burning Chrome. (Well, perhaps also The Finn, but his "major" status is debatable.)
Although there are several point-of-view characters, I always think of Count Zero as Bobby's book, and -- let's be fair -- the title Count Zero is Bobby's handle, so that's not unreasonable. In each book of the Cyberspace trilogy point of view cycles through a cast of four or five characters. This was the first book like that that I remember to have read, and it was a little disorienting, but I got used to it pretty quickly. Bobby is a teenage kid who wants to become a cyberspace cowboy. You can probably guess roughly what that means. The other point-of-view characters are also marginal criminal low-lifes.
They are the natural denizens of a dystopian future, in which capitalism run riot has made a Hell of the world for almost everyone. No, not like the world we live in now, but as if everything that was going wrong in 1984 continued to get worse and worse with higher and higher tech -- the rich get richer and the poor get much, much poorer. Everything is a scam and everyone is on the take. It's very much in the "if this goes on" science fiction tradition.
Three spectacularly good novels -- prophetic in some ways, but not (as yet) in others.
Blog review.
August 30, 2010
They say that teachers steadily develop during their first ten years. After that, some teachers continue to grow and others plateau. Sometimes I get the feeling that there's a similar arc of development for authors, one that means authors become less interesting as they get older.
I first noticed this back in my university days, when I read quite a bit of John Steinbeck. I really liked the earlier works that I read, but as I began to read his later works, I found that something was missing. Over time, I experienced the same thing with Stephen King. After a while, edges that once were rough become round. The stories are too smooth.
As with teachers, there are exceptions to this rule. Margaret Atwood (70) is still a fantastic writer -- better than ever, in my opinion. Cormac McCarthy (77) scared the hell out of me in The Road, so I'd say that he's still hitting home runs.
It's tough to believe this about William Gibson, but he's getting older (62, according to the wiki). And when I read Gibson, it's very difficult for me to stop thinking about how he evolved as a writer. I suppose the order in which I've read Gibson's works hasn't helped:
1. Spook Country, 2007
2. Neuromancer, 1984
3. Pattern Recognition, 2003
4. Burning Chrome, collects works from 1977 - 1985
5. Count Zero, 1986
I haven't exactly followed his oeuvre in chronological order.
As much as this "authorship arc" serves to distract me from the plot of Gibson's novels, I've still enjoyed considering it while reading the Sprawl and Bigend trilogies (So far, I've skipped the Bridge trilogy, which perhaps is a bridge between these two periods in Gibson's writing). Actually, I think Gibson is an author that I think benefits from this approach.
A lot of reviewers mention that Gibson has a unique writing style among science fiction authors. I agree. I read once that Gibson cited William S. Burroughs as an influence. It shows. His early work is fragmented. But that raw, detached prose lends an excitement to Neuromancer and Count Zero, one that matters as much as "cyberspace" does.
(Since this is a review of Count Zero, I should point out that we see Gibson trying out some new ideas with plot structure and point of view, while he extends his ideas about AI. For me, Neuromancer remains the essential read, but Count Zero says a lot more about where Gibson is headed as a writer.)
I've read that Gibson views his Sprawl trilogy as adolescent. Although the Sprawl novels are quite complex, there's no denying that Gibson's later work is more mature. Gibson never holds his reader's hand, but we feel that we're in good hands when reading Pattern Recognition.
There are other aspects of Gibson's writing that I could point to (plotting, character development, his use of technology...), but I think anyone reading this will get the point.
Regardless, there's something to be said for catching authors in their youth and following their career. But with Gibson's works, I've found that it's also interesting to show up after the gold rush, seeing how authors have evolved over decades of words.
***
What are your favorite authors that still produce great stories after decades? Or for haters, who are your authors that let you down over time?
I first noticed this back in my university days, when I read quite a bit of John Steinbeck. I really liked the earlier works that I read, but as I began to read his later works, I found that something was missing. Over time, I experienced the same thing with Stephen King. After a while, edges that once were rough become round. The stories are too smooth.
As with teachers, there are exceptions to this rule. Margaret Atwood (70) is still a fantastic writer -- better than ever, in my opinion. Cormac McCarthy (77) scared the hell out of me in The Road, so I'd say that he's still hitting home runs.
It's tough to believe this about William Gibson, but he's getting older (62, according to the wiki). And when I read Gibson, it's very difficult for me to stop thinking about how he evolved as a writer. I suppose the order in which I've read Gibson's works hasn't helped:
1. Spook Country, 2007
2. Neuromancer, 1984
3. Pattern Recognition, 2003
4. Burning Chrome, collects works from 1977 - 1985
5. Count Zero, 1986
I haven't exactly followed his oeuvre in chronological order.
As much as this "authorship arc" serves to distract me from the plot of Gibson's novels, I've still enjoyed considering it while reading the Sprawl and Bigend trilogies (So far, I've skipped the Bridge trilogy, which perhaps is a bridge between these two periods in Gibson's writing). Actually, I think Gibson is an author that I think benefits from this approach.
A lot of reviewers mention that Gibson has a unique writing style among science fiction authors. I agree. I read once that Gibson cited William S. Burroughs as an influence. It shows. His early work is fragmented. But that raw, detached prose lends an excitement to Neuromancer and Count Zero, one that matters as much as "cyberspace" does.
(Since this is a review of Count Zero, I should point out that we see Gibson trying out some new ideas with plot structure and point of view, while he extends his ideas about AI. For me, Neuromancer remains the essential read, but Count Zero says a lot more about where Gibson is headed as a writer.)
I've read that Gibson views his Sprawl trilogy as adolescent. Although the Sprawl novels are quite complex, there's no denying that Gibson's later work is more mature. Gibson never holds his reader's hand, but we feel that we're in good hands when reading Pattern Recognition.
There are other aspects of Gibson's writing that I could point to (plotting, character development, his use of technology...), but I think anyone reading this will get the point.
Regardless, there's something to be said for catching authors in their youth and following their career. But with Gibson's works, I've found that it's also interesting to show up after the gold rush, seeing how authors have evolved over decades of words.
***
What are your favorite authors that still produce great stories after decades? Or for haters, who are your authors that let you down over time?
February 11, 2013
3 Stars
Well, just like with Neurmonancer, William Gibson’s amazing command of the English language, coupled with his incredible writing style was not enough for me to love Count Zero. It is very well written, fast paced, filled with cool sci-fi action scenes and gadgetry, and not overly long in length.
The problem with this book is that I really never cared one bit about any of the characters in this book, or in book one for that matter. As a result, all the world building, science, and cool gadgetry is lost on me as my interest in it is never what it could be.
William Gibson is a gifted writer, here are a couple of typical scenes of his:
“"Yes, Marly. And from that rather terminal perspective, I should advise you to strive to live hourly in your own flesh. Not in the past, if you understand me. I speak as one who can no longer tolerate that simple state, the cells of my body having opted for the quixotic pursuit of individual careers. I imagine that a more fortunate man, or a poorer one, would have been allowed to die at last, or be coded at the core of some bit of hardware. But I seem constrained, by a byzantine net of circumstance that requires, I understand, something like a tenth of my annual income. Making me, I suppose, the world’s most expensive invalid. I was touched, Marly, at your affairs of the heart. I envy you the ordered flesh from which they unfold."”
And:
“The man opened his mouth, began to gesture with the thing he held beneath the poncho, and his head exploded. It almost seemed to Turner that it happened before the red line of light scythed down and touched him, pencil-thick beam swinging casually, as though someone were playing with a flashlight. A blossom of red, beaten down by the rain, as the figure went to its knees and tumbled forward, a wire-stocked Savage 410 sliding from beneath the poncho.”
I really wanted to love this book but in the end, I just never really cared…
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