Neuromancer - William Gibson

Science Fiction; ISBN 0-441-56959-5; Ace Books, 1984.

First, the obligatory synopsis: Henry Dorsett Case was one of the hottest console cowboy in the Sprawl. But a double-cross went awry and he found himself, a year later, on the back streets of Chiba City, Japan, with a burnt-out nervous system incapable of even logging into cyberspace. Penniless, hopeless and suicidal, he reluctantly joins Armitage, an ex-military man with a mysterious past, and Molly, a mercenary razorgirl, for a last chance run that can either be his salvation or his doom.

My love affair with Neuromancer started in a night class called Computer Security. It was a last-minute addition to a fully loaded semester. Our teacher was supposed to be some top network security guru for one company on the top tier of the Fortune 500s, and the department chair (

as we were constantly reminded

) had just barely persuaded him to teach this class. Never mind

that the class ended exactly at midnight, and the students walked out of the classroom like brain-fried zombies.

But considering all the stuff we've heard about him, the guy was surprisingly unpretentious and easy to talk to. Knowing the class barely had an iota of attention to spare him, he got rid of the theoreticals; everything was hands-on from day one. Better than that, he figured that

the best way to learn how to protect a computer network is by knowing how to hack into them. It is (to use a Harry Potter analogy) like having a Defense Against the Dark Arts class that taught you how to do the Dark Arts itself.

Suffice to say, it was the coolest class I had that semester.

Between learning how to masquerade IP addresses, how to secretly listen into someone's Internet traffic, and even how to hack an Automated Teller Machine, he told us about this book called Neuromancer. "It's a book about hacking and you should read it - no, no, it's not a required reading (the rest of the class stopped listening at this point) - it's just something that you guys might enjoy."

I guess I remembered this, because I picked up a copy in a bargain bin for less than a hundred bucks at a National Bookstore branch in Katipunan.

Well, I never did became a decent hacker (I'm too lazy and I lacked finesse). I'm not much of a computer security person either (again, too lazy and lacked finesse). But I did pick up the habit of reading Neuromancer roughly every three years since then. And it's not because of the plot, which is basically just a caper story,

if you take the tech mumbo-jumbo out.

I reread the book partly due to professional curiosity - I like comparing the future it describes with the technological realities at that point in time - and partly due to affinity and

a sense of

parallelism of my life to Case's story.

Sadly though, I dawned on my fourth rereading just last month that the present had, in many ways, caught up with the book. Cyberpunk culture borrowed so much from William Gibson that his visions had become dated and cliché. And as online communities became a de facto standard, cyberspace became mundane in the twenty six years since this oft-quoted definition from the novel:

Cyberspace. A consensual hallucination experienced daily by billions of legitimate operators, in every nation, by children being taught mathematical concepts... A graphic representation of data abstracted from the banks of every computer in the human system. Unthinkable complexity. Lines of light ranged in the nonspace of the mind, clusters and constellations of data. Like city lights, receding.

Will I do a fifth rereading three years from now? I hope so - I'd hate to lose this 'tradition' of mine, just when everything Gibson that predicted seems to be within our grasp.

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Mockingjay – Suzanne Collins

Science Fiction, YA; ISBN 0-439-02351-3; Scholastic Press, 2010.

Anticipating and then actually reading this book is like expecting to watch an Oscar-winning film, but you end up with an average blockbuster flick. Exciting - yeah. Unforgettable - no. Disappointing - a big HELL YEAH.

2 out of 5 stars

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Catching Fire – Suzanne Collins

Science Fiction, YA; ISBN 0-439-02349-1; Scholastic Press, 2009.

Katniss Everdeen thought that after winning the Hunger Games and all the obligatory PR that follows, she and her family and friends are going to be left alone. And sure, it was a bit controversial how she and fellow District 12 tribute Peeta Mallark won but that's because the pair is crazily in love with each other - so all's well that end well, right?

Apparently not. President Snow, the ruthless tyrant of Panem, had set his flat, deadly eyes on Katniss. Not only for her borderline treasonous actions in the Games but to punish her for unknowingly setting off the starting fires of rebellion in the twelve districts. So what should Katniss do? Flee or fight?

One can roughly divide the book into two parts: first, the continuation of the tension and resulting rebellion that started from Katniss and Peeta's victory, reabbreviating within and without District 12; then second, the Hunger Games of that year (called Quarter Quell), in which there's going to be a surprise (and sure enough, terrible) twist to the already horrible Games.

Catching Fire has the same exciting quality that The Hunger Games have; needless to say, it's a page-turner through and through.

I'm glad that I got to see more of the other districts and the country of Panem in general. I'm one of those people who like to see lots of details in their science fiction, and I'm crossing my fingers that Suzanne Collins might be persuaded to write some sort of prequel on how this world had came about, and how Panem had been in its first few years. You see, as I read though the first part, I've been struck at how this society is so not like the nearest equivalent countries of our real world (I was thinking of communist Russia, China, and more particularly, North Korea). It's not even like it's older literary dystopian cousins (let's give 1984 and Brave New World as examples).

If I'm forced to put a finger on it, I'd say it's because Katniss' story (and consequently, the country of Panem) is still, despite the misery and the hunger and the violence, a story of fulfilled (more or less) hopes and human decency. And the fulfillment of hopes and the realization of basic human goodness are commodities that few dystopian fiction are willing to provide. But then, I'm not sure if this characteristic is inherent in this trilogy only or is some sort of unwritten requirement to dystopian young adult fictions in general. I guess that just mean one thing: I need to push up in my TBR list a few similar books like Lois Lowry's The Giver and Scott Westerfeld's Uglies series. :P

So anyway, the only thing I didn't like in the story are how the romances were handled. It's too deliberately vague and manipulative, of both characters and readers. And it's so unfair on Katniss. I mean, this is a girl who's supposedly decisive and caring - so why on earth should she dither on the emotions of her two closest friends, and thus heartlessly prolonging the two boys' agony? Remember, this is NOT Twilight, and Katniss is NOT Bella.

On the plus side, I'm glad they fleshed out a bit my favorite character, Haymitch Abernathy (I know his last name, yay!). Plus, I did like most of the new characters, particularly Finnick (Hollywood would have a field day in choosing the actor to play him). President Snow's bad guy character is a tad too cliché, so I'm figuring Ms. Collins will flesh him out a bit more in the third book. And the cliffhanger at the end is the bomb! :)

There, that's my review of Catching Fire. I tried to make it spoiler-free but holler if you found something (yes, I'm still the spoiler queen but I promised Blooey I won't deliberately spoil this time around, so there). Mockingjay (the third and final installment of this series) is going to be released in the Philippines on August 25. This post is quite long already so I'm going to refer you to Blooey's post on the launch event happening on Sunday, August 29. Be there!

4 out of 5 stars

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The Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula Le Guin
Science Fiction; ISBN 978-0-441-47812-5; Ace Books, 1969.

Genly Ai is a Terran envoy on the ice-bound world of Gethen. He is tasked to attempt an alliance between the nations of this planet and a federation of worlds called the Ekumen. But he is literally a stranger on a strange land - not just due to the unnervingly harsh environment, but because he is a male, living among humans who have no permanent gender. Good thing he has a sponsor for his cause: the Prime Minister of the Karhide nation, Lord Therem Harth rem ir Estraven. He can't help but think though, how fortunate is he that he has Lord Estraven by his side?

I love to tell more but my friends do frown at spoilers, so let's leave the summary at that.

Winner for best novel in both the 1969 Nebula and 1970 Hugo Awards, The Left Hand of Darkness had become a science fiction classic. The novel works on many levels, so it's difficult (not to mention presumptuous) for me to discuss about all these themes. Thus, I'm going to shallowly talk about one of the themes that had struck me - duality.

Light is the left hand of darkness
and darkness is the right hand of light.
Two are one, life and death, lying
together like lovers in kemmer,
like hands joined together,
like the end and the way.

Dualism is the belief that everything has two states: life and death, male and female, light and dark. Now, the interesting part is that the interaction between these states depends on the philosophical system you're believing/basing on. Most western philosophies (e.g. Catholicism) say that these two are in conflict, thus the eternal struggle between good versus evil, for instance. On the other hand, most eastern philosophies (let's take an example of Taoism, from which a novel-referenced symbol, the taijitu or yin-yang symbol, came from) say that despite being opposites, the two are actually interdependent, interconnected to form, if not a whole, then at least a balance.

So, is there duality in a race of androgynous humans? Genly Ai initially didn't thought so:

Ai: You're isolated, and undivided. Perhaps you are as obsessed with wholeness as we are with dualism.

Estraven: We are dualists too. Duality is an essential, isn't it? So long as there is myself and the other.

Ai: I and Thou. Yes, it does, after all, go even wider than sex...

(Another note: 'I and Thou' gives reference to Martin Bauber's Philosophy of Dialogue, where he claims that a person's life is meaningful only through his/her relationships. But being generally ignorant of the entire study of Philosophy (with a capital P), I certainly will leave it at this.)

A large-scale manifestation of the conflict of "myself" and "the other" is shown via the hostilities between the nations of the increasingly 'masculine' Orgoreyn, and the still 'feminine' Karhide. This includes the petty but complicated games of politics/shifgrethor not just between the two nations, but among the different factions of the two governments. I guess I'll leave the further discussion of the book's political themes for my book club meet this June.

This conflict is shown most significantly through the internal struggles of Genly Ai. He had stubbornly and half-unconsciously clung to his cultural stereotypes, and therefore had been gravely blinded to the one whom he should have trusted the most. The novel thus can be seen as Genly Ai's re-education (or as the Haddarata would say it, the return to ignorance); his final acceptance -and yes, even love - of the other's "otherness".

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