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Stephen Puddicombe looks at the unusual appeal of Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot
Ciaran Rafferty investigates the science of book classification
The term was coined by William Gibson (though it's popularity is partially down to movies like Tron); his initial work Neuromancer set a precedent - a setting where technology has moved beyond our present abilities, but human nature hasn't progressed with it; looking at how society deals with a world where computers can improve our lives incredibly, but also bear dangerous concequences if and when misused. The only problem is that I've never liked Neuromancer much. The pacing is slow and stolid; the characters flat and unlikeable; the tone so overbearingly grim and 'edgy' I found it hard to read without rolling my eyes.
So I started reading Idoru with some trepidation; but it turned out I needn't have worried. Gibson really must have found his footing as time went on, as Idoru deftly avoided the problems that marred Neuromancer for me; especially in how relateable I found it.
Idoru is build around the lives of two characters - Colin Laney, a man hired by the entertainment industry to dig through the data records of celebrities; and Chia McKenzie, a die-hard fan of the band Lo/Rez on a trip to Tokyo to have a meeting with the Japanese branch of the fandom. Both are chasing the rumor that Rez of Lo/Rez is planning to marry an A.I., an entirely simulated Pop Idol. Their stories are linked in the most tenuous of ways; but as the story progresses and the meaner side of the entertainment industry (and inexplicably, russian smugglers) get involved, the directions of the two begin to overlap.
The story goes to great lengths to keep the characters from either story arc from overlapping for as long as possible, which does wonders for the buildup in suspense concerning the final acts of the book. The chapters alternate between Chia and Colin, keeping the events feeling simultaneous. The Bartimaeus Trilogy, while a slightly childish example, also use this style of writing to great effect, and I loved it there too.
What I find most fascinating about Idoru is just how close the events and ideas it covers are to the technology we've achieved today. Sure, umbrellas that fold out of business cards, the Internet functioning entirely as Virtual Reality, and skyscrapers built from nanomachines are amusingly silly and presently impossible, but the idea of using someone's Internet browsing and social network history to dig for information and gossip is very much real; even the average Facebook user does this to a degree! Robust online fandoms for actors, musicians and even fictional characters have existed for well over a decade, and the idea of digital popstars is [1] way more likely than you think.
Idoru is a wonderful piece of imaginative and well-paced writing, but it's an even better example of how Sci-Fi (and Fantasy in general) can be down-to-earth, relateable, and at the same time entirely out-there. The tone is moody and sometimes dark, but never too serious or brooding. I like my Sci-Fi how I like my coffee - gritty and dark, but with a hint of sweetness and mystery as to how it works.
...Wait, that would make a terrible coffee.
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