What do you think?
Rate this book
Blue Ant #2
Spook Country
Tito is in his early twenties. Born in Cuba, he speaks fluent Russian, lives in one room in a NoLita warehouse, and does delicate jobs involving information transfer.
Hollis Henry is an investigative journalist, on assignment from a magazine called Node. Node doesn't exist yet, which is fine; she's used to that. But it seems to be actively blocking the kind of buzz that magazines normally cultivate before they start up. Really actively blocking it. It's odd, even a little scary, if Hollis lets herself think about it much. Which she doesn't; she can't afford to.
Milgrim is a junkie. A high-end junkie, hooked on prescription antianxiety drugs. Milgrim figures he wouldn't survive twenty-four hours if Brown, the mystery man who saved him from a misunderstanding with his dealer, ever stopped supplying those little bubble packs. What exactly Brown is up to Milgrim can't say, but it seems to be military in nature. At least, Milgrim's very nuanced Russian would seem to be a big part of it, as would breaking into locked rooms.
Bobby Chombo is a "producer", and an enigma. In his day job, Bobby is a troubleshooter for manufacturers of military navigation equipment. He refuses to sleep in the same place twice. He meets no one. Hollis Henry has been told to find him.
Hollis Henry is an investigative journalist, on assignment from a magazine called Node. Node doesn't exist yet, which is fine; she's used to that. But it seems to be actively blocking the kind of buzz that magazines normally cultivate before they start up. Really actively blocking it. It's odd, even a little scary, if Hollis lets herself think about it much. Which she doesn't; she can't afford to.
Milgrim is a junkie. A high-end junkie, hooked on prescription antianxiety drugs. Milgrim figures he wouldn't survive twenty-four hours if Brown, the mystery man who saved him from a misunderstanding with his dealer, ever stopped supplying those little bubble packs. What exactly Brown is up to Milgrim can't say, but it seems to be military in nature. At least, Milgrim's very nuanced Russian would seem to be a big part of it, as would breaking into locked rooms.
Bobby Chombo is a "producer", and an enigma. In his day job, Bobby is a troubleshooter for manufacturers of military navigation equipment. He refuses to sleep in the same place twice. He meets no one. Hollis Henry has been told to find him.
371 pages, Hardcover
First published August 2, 2007
890 people are currently reading
10136 people want to read
About the author
William Gibson
291 books14.8k followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
William Ford Gibson is an American-Canadian writer who has been called the father of the cyberpunk subgenre of science fiction, having coined the term cyberspace in 1982 and popularized it in his first novel, Neuromancer (1984), which has sold more than 6.5 million copies worldwide.
While his early writing took the form of short stories, Gibson has since written nine critically acclaimed novels (one in collaboration), contributed articles to several major publications, and has collaborated extensively with performance artists, filmmakers and musicians. His thought has been cited as an influence on science fiction authors, academia, cyberculture, and technology.
---------------------------------
William Gibson. (2007, October 17). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 20:30, October 19, 2007, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?t...
William Ford Gibson is an American-Canadian writer who has been called the father of the cyberpunk subgenre of science fiction, having coined the term cyberspace in 1982 and popularized it in his first novel, Neuromancer (1984), which has sold more than 6.5 million copies worldwide.
While his early writing took the form of short stories, Gibson has since written nine critically acclaimed novels (one in collaboration), contributed articles to several major publications, and has collaborated extensively with performance artists, filmmakers and musicians. His thought has been cited as an influence on science fiction authors, academia, cyberculture, and technology.
---------------------------------
William Gibson. (2007, October 17). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 20:30, October 19, 2007, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?t...
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,571 reviews
June 26, 2019
William Gibson’s Blue Ant series theme seems to be the post Cold War / post 9.11 world where governments, government agencies, intelligence groups and powerful global entities have made paradigm shifts in their focus and world view.
Blue Ant is a global marketing agency led by Belgian Hubertus Bigend and operated out of London. Bigend sees modern advertising as “reverse espionage” and finds that his special projects involving post-cyberpunk underground investigations akin to an organisms need for sleep and dreams.
In Spook Country, Gibson’s 2007 publication and (sort of) sequel to his novel Pattern Recognition (2003) and followed by Zero History in 2010 – we find Bigend engaging the services of Hollis Henry, a former world celebrity cutting her teeth in journalism but never completely leaving behind her status as a famed rock star. Hollis encounters visual and virtual artists and other locative technology specialists in her investigation that leads her to underground engagements.
Gibson’s narrative follows Hollis but she shares time with two other plotlines: one with a hostage translator kept by a former special forces thug and the third storyline with a group led by a former CIA agent and focusing on a Cuban-Chinese family of special operatives.
Like Pattern Recognition, Gibson wastes little time with lengthy foundations and intricately explained characterizations. The pace is fast and with little clues as to what’s happening; so the reader gets only a brisk introduction and really figures things out towards the middle of the book. Gibson is too good a writer to lose his audience though, as the language is sophisticated and engaging.
Readers may be put off by the trifecta of protagonists, but Gibson expertly weaves the three loosely connected storylines together and his fiction has the look and feel of a corporate espionage over watch, which is really where Bigend seems to fit in; almost as a smooth European Charley to the action setting Angels.
Gibson’s earlier cyberpunk incantations are revisited here through his exposition of locative art and, like his post/Cold War and post 9/11 themes, this element of Spook Country seems to again declare Gibson’s role as a chronicler of the here and now, an in depth current historian with his finger on the pulse of the world culture as it is perhaps in only the very near future.
Is this science fiction?
The setting is the current time, perhaps a step ahead, but Gibson’s attention in Spook Country is more on the speculative fiction of the Now rather than future world building.
Urbane and thrilling with a cool delivery, Gibson has crafted another very readable page-turner.
Blue Ant is a global marketing agency led by Belgian Hubertus Bigend and operated out of London. Bigend sees modern advertising as “reverse espionage” and finds that his special projects involving post-cyberpunk underground investigations akin to an organisms need for sleep and dreams.
In Spook Country, Gibson’s 2007 publication and (sort of) sequel to his novel Pattern Recognition (2003) and followed by Zero History in 2010 – we find Bigend engaging the services of Hollis Henry, a former world celebrity cutting her teeth in journalism but never completely leaving behind her status as a famed rock star. Hollis encounters visual and virtual artists and other locative technology specialists in her investigation that leads her to underground engagements.
Gibson’s narrative follows Hollis but she shares time with two other plotlines: one with a hostage translator kept by a former special forces thug and the third storyline with a group led by a former CIA agent and focusing on a Cuban-Chinese family of special operatives.
Like Pattern Recognition, Gibson wastes little time with lengthy foundations and intricately explained characterizations. The pace is fast and with little clues as to what’s happening; so the reader gets only a brisk introduction and really figures things out towards the middle of the book. Gibson is too good a writer to lose his audience though, as the language is sophisticated and engaging.
Readers may be put off by the trifecta of protagonists, but Gibson expertly weaves the three loosely connected storylines together and his fiction has the look and feel of a corporate espionage over watch, which is really where Bigend seems to fit in; almost as a smooth European Charley to the action setting Angels.
Gibson’s earlier cyberpunk incantations are revisited here through his exposition of locative art and, like his post/Cold War and post 9/11 themes, this element of Spook Country seems to again declare Gibson’s role as a chronicler of the here and now, an in depth current historian with his finger on the pulse of the world culture as it is perhaps in only the very near future.
Is this science fiction?
The setting is the current time, perhaps a step ahead, but Gibson’s attention in Spook Country is more on the speculative fiction of the Now rather than future world building.
Urbane and thrilling with a cool delivery, Gibson has crafted another very readable page-turner.
Read
September 12, 2007I finished reading William Gibson's newest novel, Spook Country, a few days ago and have been trying to figure out how I feel about it. It is one of the few books I have eagerly scooped up in hardcover, I loved his Pattern Recognition so much. The promise of another book set in what can only be called the "extreme contemporary" moment was too much for me to pass up or wait for paperback to experience.
Unfortunately, Spook Country does not rise to the level of its predecessor. The main problem, in my view, is that there is a lack of harmony between its plot and its people. In Pattern Recognition, the quest to find the maker of the footage was intimately tied to the nature and capabilities of the novel's protagonist, Cayce Pollard, and to the existential situation of our moment, which allows for the possibility of anonymous internet authoring. Cayce was, indeed, the right person for the job, perhaps the only person for it, and the footageheads were a genuinely new kind of social arrangement whose newness will quickly fade but whose novelty has been captured via Gibson's trendspotting style.
In contrast, Gibson here gives us a cast of interesting characters whose position in this imagined present has little, in the end, to do with what happens at the level of plot or in terms of their historical moment, its specificity and existential terror. Does Hollis Henry's having sung for The Curfew affect the plot? Only vaguely. Does Tito's being from a Cuban-Chinese boutique crime family really matter? Though the idea is a terrific one, no. And Milgram, what is his ultimate purpose in the narrative? Why his trip to D.C.? Why does so much of the novel take place in transit between places? Or in restaurants, for that matter?
In the end, after 300 pages of passivity, we get little narrative reward for having gotten to know Milgram; he feels like filler, a third plot thread Gibson couldn't figure out what to do with. And don't get me started on my love of but ultimate disappointment in the concept of locative art. Gibson has hit upon a fascinating idea, but he has not taken enough time to develop its implications or tease out the relationship between this new medium and the nature of the contents of the "Flying Dutchman" shipping container. This leaves the last thirty pages of the novel feeling something like a tacked on effort to tie up loose threads (admittedly, the last chapter of Pattern Recognition fails in the same way).
All that said, let's make no mistake: Gibson writes many amazing, observant sentences and the Union Square action sequence is fantastic, the best part of the book, rising to the level of the best he's written. My disappointment stands largely in relation to my extreme admiration for what he accomplished in his previous novel, and for what I see as his power and potential as a writer. If I were going to give Gibson advice (never a good idea), I would say this: take an extra year or two to perfect the next novel in this trilogy, which undoubtedly will concern China, if the ending of this novel is any clue. Novels of this sort should stand as monuments, finely crafted explorations of the unknowable present, standing up to scrutiny from any angle, unimpeachable.
Unfortunately, Spook Country does not rise to the level of its predecessor. The main problem, in my view, is that there is a lack of harmony between its plot and its people. In Pattern Recognition, the quest to find the maker of the footage was intimately tied to the nature and capabilities of the novel's protagonist, Cayce Pollard, and to the existential situation of our moment, which allows for the possibility of anonymous internet authoring. Cayce was, indeed, the right person for the job, perhaps the only person for it, and the footageheads were a genuinely new kind of social arrangement whose newness will quickly fade but whose novelty has been captured via Gibson's trendspotting style.
In contrast, Gibson here gives us a cast of interesting characters whose position in this imagined present has little, in the end, to do with what happens at the level of plot or in terms of their historical moment, its specificity and existential terror. Does Hollis Henry's having sung for The Curfew affect the plot? Only vaguely. Does Tito's being from a Cuban-Chinese boutique crime family really matter? Though the idea is a terrific one, no. And Milgram, what is his ultimate purpose in the narrative? Why his trip to D.C.? Why does so much of the novel take place in transit between places? Or in restaurants, for that matter?
In the end, after 300 pages of passivity, we get little narrative reward for having gotten to know Milgram; he feels like filler, a third plot thread Gibson couldn't figure out what to do with. And don't get me started on my love of but ultimate disappointment in the concept of locative art. Gibson has hit upon a fascinating idea, but he has not taken enough time to develop its implications or tease out the relationship between this new medium and the nature of the contents of the "Flying Dutchman" shipping container. This leaves the last thirty pages of the novel feeling something like a tacked on effort to tie up loose threads (admittedly, the last chapter of Pattern Recognition fails in the same way).
All that said, let's make no mistake: Gibson writes many amazing, observant sentences and the Union Square action sequence is fantastic, the best part of the book, rising to the level of the best he's written. My disappointment stands largely in relation to my extreme admiration for what he accomplished in his previous novel, and for what I see as his power and potential as a writer. If I were going to give Gibson advice (never a good idea), I would say this: take an extra year or two to perfect the next novel in this trilogy, which undoubtedly will concern China, if the ending of this novel is any clue. Novels of this sort should stand as monuments, finely crafted explorations of the unknowable present, standing up to scrutiny from any angle, unimpeachable.
May 24, 2022
Tito is a young Cuban information transfer specialist (say what?); former pop star, turned journo working for a magazine yet to exist(!) Hollis Henry is tracking clandestine military hardware know-to-much Bobby Chombo; and Milgrim is a high-end drug addict who is overtly being manipulated via his drug addiction by his 'handler'. These three stories run parallel to each other amidst the machination of a 'lost' espionage community trying to stay relevant and continue there 'games' in a post 9/11 War on Terror world.
Blue Ant #2.. yes, this is a sequel, something I only realised after finishing it; but I don't think that that's here or there, as this is a clever and at times complicated dialogue driven read that is very much about the sum of its whole. Unfortunately despite an eclectic cast of characters and pointedly clever dialogue and situations, this didn't really work that well for me, although I can see how this kind of work could achieve a cult status for some. 5 out of 12.
2022 read
Blue Ant #2.. yes, this is a sequel, something I only realised after finishing it; but I don't think that that's here or there, as this is a clever and at times complicated dialogue driven read that is very much about the sum of its whole. Unfortunately despite an eclectic cast of characters and pointedly clever dialogue and situations, this didn't really work that well for me, although I can see how this kind of work could achieve a cult status for some. 5 out of 12.
2022 read
August 20, 2023
3.5 stars
In this 2nd book in the 'Blue Ant' series, the owner of the inscrutable Blue Ant Company - eccentric billionaire Hubertus Bigend - takes an interest in a new art form. The book can be read as a standalone with no problem.
Spook Country follows three groups of characters whose story threads merge as the narrative unfolds. The action moves from various parts of the United States to Canada as the protagonists pursue their agendas.
*****
Entrepreneur Hubertus Bigend has commissioned budding journalist Hollis Henry to write an article about 'locative art' for his new enterprise, Node magazine. Locative art, which is composed of images superimposed on the real world, must be viewed with a Virtual Reality headset. So pedestrians might stroll right past locative artworks, completely unaware.
To demonstrate this new art form, Hollis is shown an image of River Phoenix's body on the (actual) Los Angeles street where he collapsed before he died, and an image of a giant squid hovering in a warehouse.
River Phoenix collapsed in front of The Viper Room
The cutting edge technology needed to display locative art is facilitated by a reclusive oddball genius named Bobby Chombo, who also does work for the military.
It seems that Hubertus Bigend has an agenda, because he urges Hollis to interview Chombo for her article. Chombo is an introvert who almost never meets new people.
However, Hollis has an ace up her sleeve. She was once a member of the (now defunct) cult band Curfew, which Chombo liked, so she has a slight 'in' with the tech expert.
In time Hollis learns that Chombo is using his electronic know-how to track a cargo container that's been ping-ponging around the world for years. This container turns out to be the MacGuffin in the story.
*****
Tito is a young man of Chinese-Russian-Cuban heritage whose family is a self-contained criminal enterprise.
Tito's relatives are involved in forgery, espionage, money-laundering, illegal immigration, and so on. The head of Tito's family, called 'the old man', was once a United States government operative, probably in some intelligence/counter-intelligence department.
Tito is an expert in 'Systema' (a sort of parkour used to escape adversaries) and has personal Santeria gods protecting him, so he's almost untouchable as he goes about his business. Tito's occupation seems to be receiving and sending messages written in the invented language Volapuk (encoded in Russian) and delivering IPODs containing encrypted information to the old man.
As things shake out, Tito is eventually dispatched to perform a risky mission that involves the aforementioned cargo container.
*****
Brown is a shadowy personage - perhaps a former American military man - who has wired Tito's room to record incoming/outgoing Volapuk messages.
However, Brown doesn't understand Volapuk, so he abducts Milgrim - a homeless vagrant addicted to anti-anxiety drugs - who's an expert in the lingo.
Milgrim can understand Volapuk, including the idioms, and translate it into English. Brown keeps Milgrim from escaping by giving him drugs and issuing dire threats.
Milgrim, who's one of the book's narrators, isn't too bothered by his captivity because he gets the drugs he needs; has a stolen book about obscure medieval religions to read; gets to stay in decent hotel rooms; and is provided with regular meals - often in restaurants.
Druggie Milgrim has little interest in Brown's ultimate objectives, but he does note that Brown and his cohorts want to intercept Tito and snag one of the encrypted IPODs.
In time it becomes clear that Brown and company ALSO have an interest in the cargo container.
*****
The story is enhanced by additional characters and situations that add interest to the book. For instance, Hollis works with an art curator, Odile Richard, who makes robotic vacuums out of white Legos; and Hollis meets a locative artist, Alberto Corrales, who specializes in portraying dead celebrities.
Hollis also sees a couple of her former bandmates, philosophical Inchmale and versatile Laura. Laura is a formidable woman, who - when she fears Hollis is in danger - fashions a weapon out of an axe handle.
For his part, mixed-heritage Tito has a large number of family members - including numerous uncles and cousins - who are on hand to help when he needs assistance. And even loner Brown speaks to cronies on the phone, planning his secretive moves.
The author has a deft hand with conspiracies, and drops hints in the story that lead to 'aha' moments at the book's climax. All this is good fun, and the book is well-written and worth reading.
You can follow my reviews at https://reviewsbybarbsaffer.blogspot....
June 12, 2016
Quite possibly my favourite Gibson. Quite possibly a modern classic. Quite possibly the best book you'll read this year. The Blue Ant sequence is excellent and elegantly concludes in Zero History, but this is the one I come back to. Masterful prose, gripping narrative, weird and fascinating characters.
December 16, 2012
This has to be the least thrilling thriller I've ever read. I never felt like there were any serious stakes for any of our three protagonists -- unless it was during the incessant tooth brushing scenes. Indeed, all the major characters in Spook Country have impeccable oral hygiene, but I digress.
Hollis Henry, former lead singer of The Curfew turned journalist for Node, finds herself embroiled in a mystery --care of Hubertus Bigend and Blue Ant -- that jumps from L.A. to Vancouver. She's on the trail of a D.J. for locative artists and the ghostly container he's tracking. She winds up deep, deep in the mystery, actually taking part in the denouement, but the only threat she faces is the possibility that she'll become irradiated with some Cisium, but that's okay, she's decked out in an X-ray apron, and she's sure to be fine.
David Milgrim, a sort of anti-tweeker who speaks Russian and translates Volapuk for a shady fucker named Brown, spends his time being dragged from place to place by the aforementioned shady fucker, so that he can translate any transmissions being sent to a guy Brown is hunting. The only danger Milgrim is in is a beating at the hands of Brown or the cutting off of his supply of Rize.
Then there's Tito. He's an "illegal facilitator (IF)," according to Brown, whose family is involved in smuggling and other criminal activities. His and his family's roots are in Communist China and Cuba, their initial training was with the KGB. Tito himself is a free runner, who channels some mystic state when he's doing his job, and his job puts him in direct danger. Danger of being captured. Danger of being shot. Danger of being arrested. But even with Tito the stakes feel low. He's just too good at what he does, and the planning he's executing is too thorough. So even if he were to have been caught during his big chase sequence or his final job, we're never given the impression he's in any serious danger (of course, this could be because his chief adversary is Brown, who is about as effective as a cartoon Nazi from 30s' Saturday Morning serials.)
But the total lack of stakes works. It is important, actually. Gibson's is a whole new world of intrigue. His spook country is the zone where espionage work (if it can even be called that anymore) has changed with technology and outsourcing. It is a place where anyone with the right level of curiosity, the correct skill set, the necessary connections (even if connected quite by accident) can find themselves embroiled in the intrigues around every corner. It is a place where everyone's position can be found, where everyone's conversations (written or spoken) are traced, where everyone's information is there to be analysed and fucked with. Those become the stakes. The stakes are anonymity vs. embroilment. Do you want to be known? Do you want to be on the radar? Those are the stakes, and I am not sure that our heroine, Hollis, has any clue what that's going to mean in her future.
I've never read a book quite like this one. It's story isn't terribly unique, but that's not what I mean, and I've even read books without stakes, but I don't mean that either. What I've never seen is a book with such minimal stakes that actually made me care, and this book made me care. It made me care personally about Gibson's three protagonists; it made me care about (and fear) the present-future Gibson is discussing; it made me care about the issues Gibson's grappling with; it just made me care, and I am shocked that a book written in this way could make me care in all those ways.
So I will end with these two words: Hubertus Bigend.
Hollis Henry, former lead singer of The Curfew turned journalist for Node, finds herself embroiled in a mystery --care of Hubertus Bigend and Blue Ant -- that jumps from L.A. to Vancouver. She's on the trail of a D.J. for locative artists and the ghostly container he's tracking. She winds up deep, deep in the mystery, actually taking part in the denouement, but the only threat she faces is the possibility that she'll become irradiated with some Cisium, but that's okay, she's decked out in an X-ray apron, and she's sure to be fine.
David Milgrim, a sort of anti-tweeker who speaks Russian and translates Volapuk for a shady fucker named Brown, spends his time being dragged from place to place by the aforementioned shady fucker, so that he can translate any transmissions being sent to a guy Brown is hunting. The only danger Milgrim is in is a beating at the hands of Brown or the cutting off of his supply of Rize.
Then there's Tito. He's an "illegal facilitator (IF)," according to Brown, whose family is involved in smuggling and other criminal activities. His and his family's roots are in Communist China and Cuba, their initial training was with the KGB. Tito himself is a free runner, who channels some mystic state when he's doing his job, and his job puts him in direct danger. Danger of being captured. Danger of being shot. Danger of being arrested. But even with Tito the stakes feel low. He's just too good at what he does, and the planning he's executing is too thorough. So even if he were to have been caught during his big chase sequence or his final job, we're never given the impression he's in any serious danger (of course, this could be because his chief adversary is Brown, who is about as effective as a cartoon Nazi from 30s' Saturday Morning serials.)
But the total lack of stakes works. It is important, actually. Gibson's is a whole new world of intrigue. His spook country is the zone where espionage work (if it can even be called that anymore) has changed with technology and outsourcing. It is a place where anyone with the right level of curiosity, the correct skill set, the necessary connections (even if connected quite by accident) can find themselves embroiled in the intrigues around every corner. It is a place where everyone's position can be found, where everyone's conversations (written or spoken) are traced, where everyone's information is there to be analysed and fucked with. Those become the stakes. The stakes are anonymity vs. embroilment. Do you want to be known? Do you want to be on the radar? Those are the stakes, and I am not sure that our heroine, Hollis, has any clue what that's going to mean in her future.
I've never read a book quite like this one. It's story isn't terribly unique, but that's not what I mean, and I've even read books without stakes, but I don't mean that either. What I've never seen is a book with such minimal stakes that actually made me care, and this book made me care. It made me care personally about Gibson's three protagonists; it made me care about (and fear) the present-future Gibson is discussing; it made me care about the issues Gibson's grappling with; it just made me care, and I am shocked that a book written in this way could make me care in all those ways.
So I will end with these two words: Hubertus Bigend.
August 19, 2007
It's a little thin. Compulsively readable, nicely plotted, and delightful in its references to places and technologies of the 2006 moment. (In this, I read it under the right conditions: the day it was released, on an LA-NY flight. It opens on the block in which I used to live. I drove past Gray's Papaya in midtown just as his characters had breakfast there.)
But the thing is, the characters just get thinner and thinner. It's intentional, I guess. He's trying to create new archetypes. But it makes the reading a little dull. The characters may interact (if superficially) but they don't relate at all. I think the central character's detachment is supposed to be a virtue, and make her a disinterested carrier of the story. Yet in general, the characters are so static that the action of the book seems in some ways inconsequential: if it doesn't change people, how can it change the world?
I love the way Gibson uses a female protagonist (both here and in Pattern Recognition) to anchor a story, filter the way his created-world is perceived, and be the limitedly-autonomous carrier of secrets. Ultimately, I just wish these protagonists could be worth living through. It's odd that interpersonal intuition and emotion are so stripped out of Gibson's world, especially since his more heroic characters rely on intuition, feeling, and a sometimes spiritualized-mythic navigation methods to get around the gridded system where the important stuff happens.
Even if there are ways in which Gibson's surfaces leave me cold, his new interview in Salon makes me think I'm a little in love with his subconscious.
But the thing is, the characters just get thinner and thinner. It's intentional, I guess. He's trying to create new archetypes. But it makes the reading a little dull. The characters may interact (if superficially) but they don't relate at all. I think the central character's detachment is supposed to be a virtue, and make her a disinterested carrier of the story. Yet in general, the characters are so static that the action of the book seems in some ways inconsequential: if it doesn't change people, how can it change the world?
I love the way Gibson uses a female protagonist (both here and in Pattern Recognition) to anchor a story, filter the way his created-world is perceived, and be the limitedly-autonomous carrier of secrets. Ultimately, I just wish these protagonists could be worth living through. It's odd that interpersonal intuition and emotion are so stripped out of Gibson's world, especially since his more heroic characters rely on intuition, feeling, and a sometimes spiritualized-mythic navigation methods to get around the gridded system where the important stuff happens.
Even if there are ways in which Gibson's surfaces leave me cold, his new interview in Salon makes me think I'm a little in love with his subconscious.
August 28, 2007
I was disappointed by this book. William Gibson, touted as a writer with ideas, handles the conceptual with a surprising lack of deftness. In one sense, this book is about name-checking pop culture ephemera and devices. More attention is given to the description of the insoles of Adidas GSG-9 boots and cesium bullets than actual story development. The "chapters" are anything but, and give the novel the feel of a technologically-mediated novela on Univision.
But, more on the object-oriented aspects of Spook Country. The emphasis on locative media, visors, bullets, black coats, shoes, et cetera reads as a combination of Bruce Sterling, John Seabrook, and Naomi Klein. Gibson's objects act as part of a post-capitalist dingpolitik (to borrow Bruno Latour's term). One would expect a anti-neo-liberal spin: the media übermogul should be the bad guy, but is the unseen hand that manipulates the narrative's aprocryphal puppet strings. But once Hubertus Bigend's ideas and work is sanctioned, the narrative loses teeth. Once gets the sense of "Bigend is behind all of it ... ho hum."
The novel is also touted as an example of Gibson's new take on science fiction, a variation on the shibboleth that truth is stranger than fiction. Stranger indeed, but many of the ideas that Gibson presents have historical, artistic, and literary antecedents. These antecedents seem to deal with such ideas in more interesting ways than Gibson's. For example, the idea of Latourian dingpolitik reaches a chilling denouement in Philip K. Dick's The Man in the High Castle. Locative media find much more satisfying results in the work of Shimon Attie or Krzysztof Wodiczko.
Some of the "cooler" gadgets have also seen previous lives in the narratives of sci-fi classics. Take, for instance, Garreth's and Tito's gun. The use of a specially design gun with vaporized (or pneumatic) projectiles is a nod to Alfred Bester's The Demolished Man. Again, more instances of "Been there, done that."
But perhaps the most serious flaws in the book are the general lack of interest it generates in some of its more important concepts. The narrative's own fascination with locative media becomes undeveloped and uninteresting in the end. A potentially interesting art form is rendered meaningless and fleeting in Gibson's narrative. In addition to creating some wholly unbelievable characters (read: Sarah Ferguson, who seems to know about Chombo mathematical software), Gibson always seems to lobotomize some of the best aspects of his stories. In Pattern Recognition, for example, two of the book's most poignant moments are treated off-handedly.
The total unbelievability of Spook Country runs counter to many reviews of the book. Such verbage claims that the book is an example of how "scary" the contemporary world is, et cetera. If this is the case, and it is, then how is Gibson positioning himself to illuminate this idea? My guess is that he isn't
But, more on the object-oriented aspects of Spook Country. The emphasis on locative media, visors, bullets, black coats, shoes, et cetera reads as a combination of Bruce Sterling, John Seabrook, and Naomi Klein. Gibson's objects act as part of a post-capitalist dingpolitik (to borrow Bruno Latour's term). One would expect a anti-neo-liberal spin: the media übermogul should be the bad guy, but is the unseen hand that manipulates the narrative's aprocryphal puppet strings. But once Hubertus Bigend's ideas and work is sanctioned, the narrative loses teeth. Once gets the sense of "Bigend is behind all of it ... ho hum."
The novel is also touted as an example of Gibson's new take on science fiction, a variation on the shibboleth that truth is stranger than fiction. Stranger indeed, but many of the ideas that Gibson presents have historical, artistic, and literary antecedents. These antecedents seem to deal with such ideas in more interesting ways than Gibson's. For example, the idea of Latourian dingpolitik reaches a chilling denouement in Philip K. Dick's The Man in the High Castle. Locative media find much more satisfying results in the work of Shimon Attie or Krzysztof Wodiczko.
Some of the "cooler" gadgets have also seen previous lives in the narratives of sci-fi classics. Take, for instance, Garreth's and Tito's gun. The use of a specially design gun with vaporized (or pneumatic) projectiles is a nod to Alfred Bester's The Demolished Man. Again, more instances of "Been there, done that."
But perhaps the most serious flaws in the book are the general lack of interest it generates in some of its more important concepts. The narrative's own fascination with locative media becomes undeveloped and uninteresting in the end. A potentially interesting art form is rendered meaningless and fleeting in Gibson's narrative. In addition to creating some wholly unbelievable characters (read: Sarah Ferguson, who seems to know about Chombo mathematical software), Gibson always seems to lobotomize some of the best aspects of his stories. In Pattern Recognition, for example, two of the book's most poignant moments are treated off-handedly.
The total unbelievability of Spook Country runs counter to many reviews of the book. Such verbage claims that the book is an example of how "scary" the contemporary world is, et cetera. If this is the case, and it is, then how is Gibson positioning himself to illuminate this idea? My guess is that he isn't
July 25, 2008
Although this was generally an interesting read, for me it had some fundamental problems. 1) For the first 50 pages I found myself daydreaming and constantly having to reread bits 2) The contemporary technology in this book is going to soon date itself. I don't know if Gibson considers this scifi, but the issues at hand (and the technology) already feel a little dated. Though as a result, I suppose it may appeal to a wider audience than other scifi or technical mysteries. 3) It was truly anticlimactic for me. A lot is revealed at the very end about the intent of the anti-heroes in this novel, but I didn't much care by that point and in the end, really not much happened with it all.
On a more positive note, the writing was engaging enough to keep me going after the first 50 pages, the characters were compelling, and his story was well suited for the braided novel technique he employed.
However, the book should have been more robust, allowing for more attachment to the characters and a more intriguing and eventful climax.
On a more positive note, the writing was engaging enough to keep me going after the first 50 pages, the characters were compelling, and his story was well suited for the braided novel technique he employed.
However, the book should have been more robust, allowing for more attachment to the characters and a more intriguing and eventful climax.
November 1, 2007
I've been reading William Gibson for a few years now, well after "The Movement" came and went and the world adopted and forgot the term "cyberspace." I wish I had been around to feel the freshness of that way of visualizing data, but it's a sad fact that I'm young enough to simply take that for granted. Possibly, kids who grew up around Cape Canaveral have the same take on Heinlein.
At any rate, "Spook Country" isn't a novel of the near-future, but the here-and-now, and, honestly, it's everything I dislike about Gibson with little of the rockstar attitude that made his science fiction sing. Gibson obsesses about details. Nobody carries a purse; they've got a Prada handbag with Brahman cow leather and an ornate copper filigree. This can get dull in any of Gibson's novels, but generally it's forgivable when the blood and guts starts to roll. Here it's glaringly apparent when he's padding out his story. His characters are also incredibly passive, and when I read it I found it hard to shake the feeling that I was watching a movie where the director made the stylistic choice to focus just to the left of the central character, just to see if he could.
Slight but not whimsical, Gibson's book introduces a former rockstar turned amateur reporter, a media mogul, a junkie and a spy trained in the Cuban version of parkeur. Stories interweave, as they gradually converge on the steel-encased MacGuffin, but at the end of it, one character remarks that it felt a bit like a rather elaborate prank. True. I guess it was on me, though.
At any rate, "Spook Country" isn't a novel of the near-future, but the here-and-now, and, honestly, it's everything I dislike about Gibson with little of the rockstar attitude that made his science fiction sing. Gibson obsesses about details. Nobody carries a purse; they've got a Prada handbag with Brahman cow leather and an ornate copper filigree. This can get dull in any of Gibson's novels, but generally it's forgivable when the blood and guts starts to roll. Here it's glaringly apparent when he's padding out his story. His characters are also incredibly passive, and when I read it I found it hard to shake the feeling that I was watching a movie where the director made the stylistic choice to focus just to the left of the central character, just to see if he could.
Slight but not whimsical, Gibson's book introduces a former rockstar turned amateur reporter, a media mogul, a junkie and a spy trained in the Cuban version of parkeur. Stories interweave, as they gradually converge on the steel-encased MacGuffin, but at the end of it, one character remarks that it felt a bit like a rather elaborate prank. True. I guess it was on me, though.
September 4, 2020
Part two of the Blue Ant trilogy left me feeling much like the first. It was an intelligent piece of writing but I really struggled to connect with it on an emotional level. I'm starting to think William Gibson might not be a good 'fit' for me. Still, I'll carry on to the third part of the trilogy and see how it goes.
December 4, 2014
Can a thriller also anaesthetize? Spook Country tries to find out. It has all the trappings of a modern espionage story, with quasi—government agents and a mysterious shipping container being tracked by a paranoid GPS geohacker. Yet William Gibson seems strangely reticent to let the story or the characters off their leash and venture boundlessly into this world. Instead, he escorts the reader on a meandering tour of a possible present (or near-future) which ponders how recent technological innovations are changing the way people behind the scenes do their dirty business.
It’s all there in the title, though I didn’t really see that until about halfway through reading the book. Spook Country exists largely in the liminal spaces of law enforcement and business. The affiliations of the people interested in obtaining or tracking the MacGuffin shipping container are vague—and in some ways largely unimportant—but at no point does it seem that any actual law enforcement gets involved. Rather, we have freelancers and mercenaries working for people we never get to meet. And off to one side there is the mysterious Hubertus Bigend, familiar to readers of Pattern Recognition, who expertly manipulates Hollis Henry into being in the right place at the right time to observe the container’s arrival in Vancouver.
The curious thing about Spook Country is how little happens in the first two acts. Hollis is a musician-turned-journalist working her first freelance job for Bigend’s new Node magazine. She’s writing an article about locative art, which in turn leads her to Bobby Ferguson and the mystery of the shipping container and her fateful meetings with Bigend. Gibson keeps the particulars about this container’s origins and journey so vague, however, that it’s impossible for the reader to have a clear idea of the stakes. Does it have a bomb? Are people going to die if it ever reaches its intended destination?
For a long time, the parallel narratives of Tito the “illegal facilitator” and Milgrim/Brown, who surveille him, don’t seem to connect with Hollis in any way. And I can respect Gibson for doing it this way, because when everyone converges on Vancouver, the tension starts racheting up very quickly. Nevertheless, it means that for the better part of the book, there is very little in the way of suspense or intrigue for Hollis. She spends most of her time in transit or having unfulfilling conversations with Bigend, Odile, and Inchmale.
There’s some interesting commentary in the characters themselves. Hollis and Inchmale are formerly of The Curfew, some kind of alternative rock band that broke up in the 1990s during the crisis preceding the digital era of music distribution. They got out of “the game” and Inchmale has become a father and started a music production career while Hollis pursues journalism. This reinvention of oneself mirrors Spook Country’s premise that espionage and underhanded dealing is evolving in strange ways following the advent of GPS tracking and the Internet. The eponymous “spook” is no longer the strangely-accented person in shades and a trenchcoat, sitting on a park bench waiting for a dead drop.
As always, Gibson’s eloquent expression of the tension between modernist and postmodernist ideas about technology is on display here. Pattern Recognition and Spook Country both seem to fixate on the technological failure modes of capitalism as it suffocates beneath the weight of its own corruption. As governments and corporations continue to play dangerous shell games with their capital, the technology used to manage such power plays becomes more complicated and more essential. And what I like about Spook Country as opposed to, say, Neuromancer, is that the technology featured here already exists, and in most cases it is already being put to the uses described herein. Media like books and movies are very good at creating fictional versions of our past, and they are also very good at creating possible visions of the future. It is difficult, however, to accurately capture the mechanisms of the present, as strange as that might sound. It’s difficult, particulalry at this moment in time, because we have trouble understanding the magnitude of the connected world we inhabit. We live in a world where killer robots are a thing now—they aren’t science fiction but science fact. I know this, and it still seems strange and bizarre to me. (Maybe I’m just getting old.)
Perhaps, then, that’s the reason for the meditative quality of Spook Country: Gibson is attempting to put the reader in the “now” by forcing them to focus on the setting to the exclusion of character and plot. If so, it’s an interesting gamble that doesn’t necessarily pay off. I did like the ending. But I didn’t connect to Hollis the way I did with Cayce, and I never felt like she was in much danger, even when she fell in with the most dangerous characters. Although there are a few highlights, moments of gorgeous presence, for the most part Spook Country doesn’t showcase Gibson’s brilliance like some of his other works. Still worth a read, but not as special.
It’s all there in the title, though I didn’t really see that until about halfway through reading the book. Spook Country exists largely in the liminal spaces of law enforcement and business. The affiliations of the people interested in obtaining or tracking the MacGuffin shipping container are vague—and in some ways largely unimportant—but at no point does it seem that any actual law enforcement gets involved. Rather, we have freelancers and mercenaries working for people we never get to meet. And off to one side there is the mysterious Hubertus Bigend, familiar to readers of Pattern Recognition, who expertly manipulates Hollis Henry into being in the right place at the right time to observe the container’s arrival in Vancouver.
The curious thing about Spook Country is how little happens in the first two acts. Hollis is a musician-turned-journalist working her first freelance job for Bigend’s new Node magazine. She’s writing an article about locative art, which in turn leads her to Bobby Ferguson and the mystery of the shipping container and her fateful meetings with Bigend. Gibson keeps the particulars about this container’s origins and journey so vague, however, that it’s impossible for the reader to have a clear idea of the stakes. Does it have a bomb? Are people going to die if it ever reaches its intended destination?
For a long time, the parallel narratives of Tito the “illegal facilitator” and Milgrim/Brown, who surveille him, don’t seem to connect with Hollis in any way. And I can respect Gibson for doing it this way, because when everyone converges on Vancouver, the tension starts racheting up very quickly. Nevertheless, it means that for the better part of the book, there is very little in the way of suspense or intrigue for Hollis. She spends most of her time in transit or having unfulfilling conversations with Bigend, Odile, and Inchmale.
There’s some interesting commentary in the characters themselves. Hollis and Inchmale are formerly of The Curfew, some kind of alternative rock band that broke up in the 1990s during the crisis preceding the digital era of music distribution. They got out of “the game” and Inchmale has become a father and started a music production career while Hollis pursues journalism. This reinvention of oneself mirrors Spook Country’s premise that espionage and underhanded dealing is evolving in strange ways following the advent of GPS tracking and the Internet. The eponymous “spook” is no longer the strangely-accented person in shades and a trenchcoat, sitting on a park bench waiting for a dead drop.
As always, Gibson’s eloquent expression of the tension between modernist and postmodernist ideas about technology is on display here. Pattern Recognition and Spook Country both seem to fixate on the technological failure modes of capitalism as it suffocates beneath the weight of its own corruption. As governments and corporations continue to play dangerous shell games with their capital, the technology used to manage such power plays becomes more complicated and more essential. And what I like about Spook Country as opposed to, say, Neuromancer, is that the technology featured here already exists, and in most cases it is already being put to the uses described herein. Media like books and movies are very good at creating fictional versions of our past, and they are also very good at creating possible visions of the future. It is difficult, however, to accurately capture the mechanisms of the present, as strange as that might sound. It’s difficult, particulalry at this moment in time, because we have trouble understanding the magnitude of the connected world we inhabit. We live in a world where killer robots are a thing now—they aren’t science fiction but science fact. I know this, and it still seems strange and bizarre to me. (Maybe I’m just getting old.)
Perhaps, then, that’s the reason for the meditative quality of Spook Country: Gibson is attempting to put the reader in the “now” by forcing them to focus on the setting to the exclusion of character and plot. If so, it’s an interesting gamble that doesn’t necessarily pay off. I did like the ending. But I didn’t connect to Hollis the way I did with Cayce, and I never felt like she was in much danger, even when she fell in with the most dangerous characters. Although there are a few highlights, moments of gorgeous presence, for the most part Spook Country doesn’t showcase Gibson’s brilliance like some of his other works. Still worth a read, but not as special.
Read
June 6, 2023To say I didn't understand this book would be a huge understatement. Listening to it didn't provide any clues either. Well...I did like Milgrim, the junkie...he was on drugs for most of the story:) It had absolutely nothing to do with the authors writing skills, the narrator's reading or the story itself...it was simply that I had no idea what anything that was happening was even supposed to mean or relate to anything. That was totally on me...not the author or the book. That being said, I have NEVER not rated a book, but I didn't feel it would be fair to the hard work of this author or to his book, to give any kind of rating. Those folks born 40 or so years after me will probably understand every word and everything that is happening and be amazed.
July 21, 2012
I struggled to find a reason to give this 3 stars and... I couldn't. Because the first book in the series, Pattern Recognition, was okay, and I gave it 3 stars, and this book just... did nothing for me. Usually 2 stars means I actively disliked or was annoyed by a book (as opposed to 1 star, which means I hate it with the passion of a thousand burning suns), but Spook Country just bored me.
Part of the problem was that it's a multi-POV book with short chapters switching between a very different cast of characters. There's Tito, the Russian-speaking Cuban-American who's a member of some sort of espionage/crime family, who practices a blend of Russian systema and Santeria. There's Milgram, the drug-addicted Russian interpreter who's the semi-hostage sidekick to a shady quasi-government operative named Brown. There's Hollis, a former band member-turned-journalist. And there's Bobby, a paranoid who does something shady with military equipment.
They are each wrapped up in their own storylines that gradually intertwine, but the whole book is cast in shadows and opacity. Gibson achieved an appropriate tone for the story, but failed to engage me on any level. By the time we find out what is going on and how it involves all these people (it involves money laundering and corruption and the Iraq war), I didn't really care except to find out why I'd been following along this far. All of the characters were interesting in concept - that is, Gibson came up with cool ideas for characters - but I was never invested in any of them, and none of them had much of a "voice."
Gibson is a fine writer, especially in this genre, and the plotting was decent enough. But my reaction to this book was a great big "MEH." I have zero desire to read the third book in the series.
(Also note that while this is a "series," the books are only loosely connected. One character from Pattern Recognition plays a part in this book, but they're otherwise pretty much unconnected except maybe thematically. So it won't matter if you read them out of order.)
Sorry, Gibson, maybe it's not you, it's me. Other Gibson fans seemed to have liked it a lot, and maybe if I read it in a different mood, or while paying closer attention, I'd have liked it more.
Part of the problem was that it's a multi-POV book with short chapters switching between a very different cast of characters. There's Tito, the Russian-speaking Cuban-American who's a member of some sort of espionage/crime family, who practices a blend of Russian systema and Santeria. There's Milgram, the drug-addicted Russian interpreter who's the semi-hostage sidekick to a shady quasi-government operative named Brown. There's Hollis, a former band member-turned-journalist. And there's Bobby, a paranoid who does something shady with military equipment.
They are each wrapped up in their own storylines that gradually intertwine, but the whole book is cast in shadows and opacity. Gibson achieved an appropriate tone for the story, but failed to engage me on any level. By the time we find out what is going on and how it involves all these people (it involves money laundering and corruption and the Iraq war), I didn't really care except to find out why I'd been following along this far. All of the characters were interesting in concept - that is, Gibson came up with cool ideas for characters - but I was never invested in any of them, and none of them had much of a "voice."
Gibson is a fine writer, especially in this genre, and the plotting was decent enough. But my reaction to this book was a great big "MEH." I have zero desire to read the third book in the series.
(Also note that while this is a "series," the books are only loosely connected. One character from Pattern Recognition plays a part in this book, but they're otherwise pretty much unconnected except maybe thematically. So it won't matter if you read them out of order.)
Sorry, Gibson, maybe it's not you, it's me. Other Gibson fans seemed to have liked it a lot, and maybe if I read it in a different mood, or while paying closer attention, I'd have liked it more.
September 3, 2007
No matter when or where it is set, all the best science fiction is really about the present day. William Gibson takes this idea to its logical conclusion and writes about the present day as if it were science fiction.
Gibson seems mostly concerned with how our (real) technologies are transforming us. His main character, Hollis Henry (love the strong female characters that are always present in Gibson's work), the lead singer of a defunct band from the '90s, who is now trying to make it as a journalist. The start-up magazine for which she works has given her an assignment that's really little more than a cover. They hope that as she investigates locative technology in art, she'll also uncover the where-abouts of a mysterious cargo container. Without her knowledge, of course. There are two other characters we follow in the course of the narrative, neither of whom know the whole story either.
By keeping the characters and the readers in the dark about the narrative thread, Gibson creates a paranoid feeling that mimics that of the world we find ourselves living in. A world where, as one of the characters says, "America had developed Stockholm syndrome toward its own government, post 9/11."
This is the second novel set in the "real world" by Gibson; a sort of follow up to Pattern Recognition. These two novels share one character between them: Advertising magnate, Hubertus Bigend. While not a huge presence in either book, he is the force that motivates both narratives. Again, Gibson is telling us something about the world we live in.
Gibson's writing here is bare-bones spare, but beautiful. He has the ability to turn a phrase that can stop the reader dead for a moment, but that then compels you to continue. To race to the completely satisfying conclusion.
Gibson seems mostly concerned with how our (real) technologies are transforming us. His main character, Hollis Henry (love the strong female characters that are always present in Gibson's work), the lead singer of a defunct band from the '90s, who is now trying to make it as a journalist. The start-up magazine for which she works has given her an assignment that's really little more than a cover. They hope that as she investigates locative technology in art, she'll also uncover the where-abouts of a mysterious cargo container. Without her knowledge, of course. There are two other characters we follow in the course of the narrative, neither of whom know the whole story either.
By keeping the characters and the readers in the dark about the narrative thread, Gibson creates a paranoid feeling that mimics that of the world we find ourselves living in. A world where, as one of the characters says, "America had developed Stockholm syndrome toward its own government, post 9/11."
This is the second novel set in the "real world" by Gibson; a sort of follow up to Pattern Recognition. These two novels share one character between them: Advertising magnate, Hubertus Bigend. While not a huge presence in either book, he is the force that motivates both narratives. Again, Gibson is telling us something about the world we live in.
Gibson's writing here is bare-bones spare, but beautiful. He has the ability to turn a phrase that can stop the reader dead for a moment, but that then compels you to continue. To race to the completely satisfying conclusion.
June 5, 2008
William Gibson is one of the few writers that I make it a point to be in the store on release day of a new novel. I first inhaled 'Spook Country' over a two day period. I was initially disappointed, for reasons I cannot quite put my finger on. The best I could come up with was that it wasn't quite 'Gibsony' enough for me.
However, having just reread it in a more methodical manner, I have to reverse my initial opinion and declare my love for this book.
The usual, interesting cast of characters is presented. Hollis Henry is the former lead singer of a semi-famous 90's band who is now taking a stab at magazine journalism. Milgram is a drug addict that can translate Russian dialects who is currently being held prisoner by some CIA type. Tito is a young Cuban-Chinese fellow involved in covert activities while communing with Voodoo type spirits. In classic Gibson style, all three of these stories wind together like a maypole until they finally converge. For those who have read 'Pattern Recognition', Hubertus Bigend once again hovers around the edges of this book. Unfortunately, this is all that I can say without spoiling.
What impresses me most about Gibson is that he supposedly never has a plot outlined when he begins writing a novel, he just takes off and sees what happens. This is especially impressive in that he usually starts out with the three storylines that converge. If one character would hit the snooze button an extra time, it could all fall apart. I also think that Gibson can spin some of the most beautiful prose for a writer in the cyberpunk/post cyberpunk vein. Sorry, I just realized that I am bordering on fanboy-ism.
Here is my prediction for the third book in this series: the old man in 'Spook Country' = Win Pollard from 'Pattern Recognition'.
However, having just reread it in a more methodical manner, I have to reverse my initial opinion and declare my love for this book.
The usual, interesting cast of characters is presented. Hollis Henry is the former lead singer of a semi-famous 90's band who is now taking a stab at magazine journalism. Milgram is a drug addict that can translate Russian dialects who is currently being held prisoner by some CIA type. Tito is a young Cuban-Chinese fellow involved in covert activities while communing with Voodoo type spirits. In classic Gibson style, all three of these stories wind together like a maypole until they finally converge. For those who have read 'Pattern Recognition', Hubertus Bigend once again hovers around the edges of this book. Unfortunately, this is all that I can say without spoiling.
What impresses me most about Gibson is that he supposedly never has a plot outlined when he begins writing a novel, he just takes off and sees what happens. This is especially impressive in that he usually starts out with the three storylines that converge. If one character would hit the snooze button an extra time, it could all fall apart. I also think that Gibson can spin some of the most beautiful prose for a writer in the cyberpunk/post cyberpunk vein. Sorry, I just realized that I am bordering on fanboy-ism.
Here is my prediction for the third book in this series: the old man in 'Spook Country' = Win Pollard from 'Pattern Recognition'.
December 12, 2024
Ultimately, William Gibson's Spook Country is about a caper. There are four groups: a bunch of people involved in "locative art" based on GPS and virtual reality, several IFs (illegal facilitators) involved in santeria, a multi-billionaire from Belgium named Hubertus Bigend and his operatives, and a lone investigator named Brown who has in tow a druggie named Milgrim. Who, if anyone, are the good guys? Who are the bad guys? Are any of them with the Government? These are questions whose answers are deferred until the end or just left unanswered..
In other words, what we have here is a kind of floating crap game in which the reader must bear with heavy doses of uncertainty. If Gibson were not a master of this sort of thing.
In other words, what we have here is a kind of floating crap game in which the reader must bear with heavy doses of uncertainty. If Gibson were not a master of this sort of thing.
July 8, 2014
Gibson has this very cool writing style that's just a little off, such that you can't quite identify how. Although the story is presumably set in the present of its publishing (2007) a date isn't stated. Something is up. One thread follows a journalist hired by a soon-to-be (maybe?) new magazine called Node. One thread follows a young man in New York who works for his family. The final thread follows an addict named Milgrim who's been kidnapped by government man, although a specific department is never named.
It's all very oblique and unclear, as we follow these three we learn a bit more, but there is never a moment when all is made clear. The best you get here is clearer.
And it works, all this viewing of everything slant, in fact it makes for a pretty gripping caper story. It feels like science fiction, not because it's currently impossible any of it, but because it's just so odd. I don't usually think of art directors in connection with stories, but the oddness is constantly reinforced by the visual images Gibson creates: an enormous futon at a hotel, Tito in a leather porkpie hat, a single boy's coat hanging in a closet.
It's surreal, and all of our characters view it through a slight remove. There is nothing visceral, it's all visual, like the locative art, and the disbanded band. Weird and cool.
It's all very oblique and unclear, as we follow these three we learn a bit more, but there is never a moment when all is made clear. The best you get here is clearer.
And it works, all this viewing of everything slant, in fact it makes for a pretty gripping caper story. It feels like science fiction, not because it's currently impossible any of it, but because it's just so odd. I don't usually think of art directors in connection with stories, but the oddness is constantly reinforced by the visual images Gibson creates: an enormous futon at a hotel, Tito in a leather porkpie hat, a single boy's coat hanging in a closet.
It's surreal, and all of our characters view it through a slight remove. There is nothing visceral, it's all visual, like the locative art, and the disbanded band. Weird and cool.
August 17, 2020
Non è il miglior Gibson di sempre, ma la storia, per quel che si può capire, è interessante e i personaggi più che simpatici, anche se non sempre si comprende quale sia il loro ruolo nella storia.
Lettura faticosa, soprattutto all'inizio, ma, a conti fatti, piacevole.
Lettura faticosa, soprattutto all'inizio, ma, a conti fatti, piacevole.
June 16, 2019
Nežinau, kodėl #WilliamGibson vadinamas fantastu. Man jo knygos panašiau į techno trilerius. Ir šitas, nors ir geras, bet man skaitėsi sunkiausiai iš visų maestro knygų. Ir po pirmos #BlueAnt gerokai nuvylė, nes aš nebetikiu pono Hubertus Bigend žaidimais. Bet knyga vis tiek #Recom #LEBooks #SpookCountry
March 21, 2009
Gibson weaves another dark mystery from the narrow viewpoints of exotic, solitary characters, as they move through a complex "day after tomorrow" alternate present. We follow an ex-Cuban "spy family", shuttling secrets from buyer to seller on iPods, and an ex-rocker now journalist covering a software engineer working with "locative artists". These artists build 3D visual simulations that appear overlaid in a particular place when viewed through Gibson's beloved VR helmet. All of this leads to a believable conclusion derived from the events of the mid-2000's.
The continuity within the rest of Gibson's fiction is considerable. Transfer of iPods anticipates (or recalls) "Johnny Mnemonic". Two major themes in Gibson's "later" stories (actually written a decade ago) show their beginnings. First, the breakdown of national governments and transfer of power to corporations and individual actors. Hubertus of Blue Ant (also in Pattern Recognition) appears to be firmly on that path. The fact that he nominally runs an "ad agency" adds irony. Second, locative art would appear to be the beginning of "cyberspace," which in Gibson's other novels is a primary public interface to computing services. Finally, he mentions a gated religious community in Idaho, echoes again from another story.
Surely these are the man's beloved themes, but for readers of his other books its also fascinating to see this as a bridge or rationalization of "ideas to come" in the earlier stories. As always, I look forward to the next novels, where Mr. Gibson's contemporary past will collide with his historic future.
The continuity within the rest of Gibson's fiction is considerable. Transfer of iPods anticipates (or recalls) "Johnny Mnemonic". Two major themes in Gibson's "later" stories (actually written a decade ago) show their beginnings. First, the breakdown of national governments and transfer of power to corporations and individual actors. Hubertus of Blue Ant (also in Pattern Recognition) appears to be firmly on that path. The fact that he nominally runs an "ad agency" adds irony. Second, locative art would appear to be the beginning of "cyberspace," which in Gibson's other novels is a primary public interface to computing services. Finally, he mentions a gated religious community in Idaho, echoes again from another story.
Surely these are the man's beloved themes, but for readers of his other books its also fascinating to see this as a bridge or rationalization of "ideas to come" in the earlier stories. As always, I look forward to the next novels, where Mr. Gibson's contemporary past will collide with his historic future.
May 4, 2010
After the spectacular Pattern Recognition, Gibson returns to his normal fuzzy ways and once again seems to write the same book he'd already written a half-dozen times prior to this. Three narratives once again unspool alongside each other until they converge in the end, where they finally arrive at a McGuffin (this time, a mysterious shipping crate). The purpose of the McGuffin is vague, of course, although it did seem a little more relevant to the themes of the book than the glasses in Virtual Light did.
I suppose I wouldn't keep reading if I didn't like Gibson's business-as-usual, but it would be nice to see him mix it up a little more like he did with Pattern Recognition (which, let's face it, wasn't THAT different from his previous books, but a little variety seems to go a long way here).
I suppose I wouldn't keep reading if I didn't like Gibson's business-as-usual, but it would be nice to see him mix it up a little more like he did with Pattern Recognition (which, let's face it, wasn't THAT different from his previous books, but a little variety seems to go a long way here).
May 18, 2012
I don't want to knock Gibson. I really don't. Back in the day I really enjoyed Neuromancer and The Difference Engine, as well as other works and some of his short stories, but here with Spook Country, I found myself just not caring about the characters or the plot or even Gibson's sleek descriptions of various designer voodoo. I felt like I gave this book a fair shake by plodding through a hundred and some odd pages before giving up... I don't know, it just didn't feel "authentic" to me...
Abandoned!
Abandoned!
February 29, 2020
People need to give William Gibson a break. He "invented" cyberspace, computer implants, the Sprawl, the Bridge, and almost single-handedly created the cyberpunk genre. He spent the 80's and 90's (in my opinion)doing great service to literature.
Now he's doing something different. Something less-high concept and yet more alarming, because it seems to be really happened now rather than proposed in the comforting mid-future.
Let someone else invent the next street-samari. We don't need him to reinvent sci-fi again. Just sit back and savor the poetry of his sentences.
And enjoy.
Now he's doing something different. Something less-high concept and yet more alarming, because it seems to be really happened now rather than proposed in the comforting mid-future.
Let someone else invent the next street-samari. We don't need him to reinvent sci-fi again. Just sit back and savor the poetry of his sentences.
And enjoy.
July 6, 2024
Not my cup of tea
January 31, 2024
Much better than Pattern Recognition - the constant brand commentary in that left me rather cold, perhaps I have some of Cayse's allergy to it.
Here. we have three plot threads that seem unrelated, but collide in the final fifth of the book. Gibson's terse, matter-of-fact yet observant style works well, keeping the interest throughout. I still can't quite give it a solid 5/5, but 4.5 rounded up.
I'm intrigued to see whether the final part of the trilogy brings the first two together.
Here. we have three plot threads that seem unrelated, but collide in the final fifth of the book. Gibson's terse, matter-of-fact yet observant style works well, keeping the interest throughout. I still can't quite give it a solid 5/5, but 4.5 rounded up.
I'm intrigued to see whether the final part of the trilogy brings the first two together.
May 26, 2014
Let me first state that I have always been a fan of William Gibson. I found Neuromancer wholly original, and Pattern Recognition an absolute joy to read. With this in mind Spook Country left me entirely underwhelmed.
Perhaps this feeling I have comes a lot from the way I approach this book. By this I mean my cultural milieu. I approached it from the point of view of a ‘young Australian’. It felt like there were so many things in this book I could simply not relate to. My youth made the language seem strained, almost like Gibson was trying too hard to be ‘hip’, and the consumerist driven action was far too – for wont of a better word – ‘American’.
The Plot follows three groups of people; Hollis Henry and her employers Blue Ant, as well as the rock band she used to be part of; Tito, a young Cuban-Chinese man (or is it boy? His age is only passingly mentioned, and then as a ‘he looked like’ not a ‘was’) and his underground crime family; Brown and Milgrim, a claimed DEA Agent and his captive. These stories seem separate but naturally are working to the same conclusion which will lead them from their bases in America to the final showdown in Vancouver, Canada. This said however I think Gibson failed to give each group enough of a story or background. There are connections that are hinted at, but too cryptic for the reader to be certain. Perhaps this was intentional, but throughout the whole work I felt that I was missing some fundamental point to each of the characters.
The characters themselves I found empty. I got no sense of motivation, or even appearance, from any of them. Rather than give his characters any personal definition Gibson instead chose to define them by the products they used, consumed, or had the money to acquire. Once again this was most likely intentional, but it made the characters very hard to relate to. The protagonist, Hollis, is the only character with a defined past, but even that is superficial and shallow. Perhaps Gibson was attempting to draw attention to the culture they are currently in, rather than the characters themselves, but as a reader I personally find it difficult to relate to a novel, or even enjoy it enough to want to grasp its meaning if there is not even a single character with whom I can identify. I was irked by Gibson’s failure to let me know what the characters looked like, what their personalities were, or even where they were situated or what time it was. I could never tell if it was day or night. The ‘noir’ was simply so much that I just assumed all the action of the novel took place at night.
All motivation in this novel suffered from an undertone of ‘because I want to’, or ‘because I can’. While this is a criticism of today’s Western society it is a very shallow look at a very complicated world. There were parts of the narrative that excited me, like the GPS driven locative art created by the artists it is originally Hollis’ objective to investigate. For me this was completely original and I wanted more investigation into this side of the world from which the characters originated. Imagine my disappointment when this wonderful concept turned out to be completely incidental to the plot, which drives us toward an ultimately disappointing conclusion.
The plot is so full of incidental information. I felt often it was placed in just to give the characters some rudimentary sense of identity, rather than to say or advance anything really substantial. The only thing I could derive from these hastily constructed artistic backgrounds was that art needs to enter commerce to survive. Was this the amazing revelation that this book claimed it would give me about the society in which I live? I certainly hope not. I am not above admitting that there may be a deep and complex point that I simply may not have understood. I am however an intelligent, educated human being. I very rarely feel that a book is ‘over my head’ so to speak but perhaps this one is. If I delved deeper into it perhaps I might find the promised revelation of my reality staring me in the face, but to be frank the book was not constructed in a way that gave me any interest or inclination to re-read it, let alone pull it apart and find its hidden meanings.
Don’t get me wrong, this is not by any stretch of the imagination a ‘terrible’ book. I simply found it un-engaging and alienating. The constant product placement made me even more unable to relate. I don’t wear Adidas, I don’t us a PowerBook, and I simply don’t think that using an iPod for data storage instead of simply music is an original concept.
Frankly Spook Country is readable, but far from Gibson’s best work. The overall experience was underwhelming and disappointing.
Review also available at http://iblamewizards.com/review-willi...
Perhaps this feeling I have comes a lot from the way I approach this book. By this I mean my cultural milieu. I approached it from the point of view of a ‘young Australian’. It felt like there were so many things in this book I could simply not relate to. My youth made the language seem strained, almost like Gibson was trying too hard to be ‘hip’, and the consumerist driven action was far too – for wont of a better word – ‘American’.
The Plot follows three groups of people; Hollis Henry and her employers Blue Ant, as well as the rock band she used to be part of; Tito, a young Cuban-Chinese man (or is it boy? His age is only passingly mentioned, and then as a ‘he looked like’ not a ‘was’) and his underground crime family; Brown and Milgrim, a claimed DEA Agent and his captive. These stories seem separate but naturally are working to the same conclusion which will lead them from their bases in America to the final showdown in Vancouver, Canada. This said however I think Gibson failed to give each group enough of a story or background. There are connections that are hinted at, but too cryptic for the reader to be certain. Perhaps this was intentional, but throughout the whole work I felt that I was missing some fundamental point to each of the characters.
The characters themselves I found empty. I got no sense of motivation, or even appearance, from any of them. Rather than give his characters any personal definition Gibson instead chose to define them by the products they used, consumed, or had the money to acquire. Once again this was most likely intentional, but it made the characters very hard to relate to. The protagonist, Hollis, is the only character with a defined past, but even that is superficial and shallow. Perhaps Gibson was attempting to draw attention to the culture they are currently in, rather than the characters themselves, but as a reader I personally find it difficult to relate to a novel, or even enjoy it enough to want to grasp its meaning if there is not even a single character with whom I can identify. I was irked by Gibson’s failure to let me know what the characters looked like, what their personalities were, or even where they were situated or what time it was. I could never tell if it was day or night. The ‘noir’ was simply so much that I just assumed all the action of the novel took place at night.
All motivation in this novel suffered from an undertone of ‘because I want to’, or ‘because I can’. While this is a criticism of today’s Western society it is a very shallow look at a very complicated world. There were parts of the narrative that excited me, like the GPS driven locative art created by the artists it is originally Hollis’ objective to investigate. For me this was completely original and I wanted more investigation into this side of the world from which the characters originated. Imagine my disappointment when this wonderful concept turned out to be completely incidental to the plot, which drives us toward an ultimately disappointing conclusion.
The plot is so full of incidental information. I felt often it was placed in just to give the characters some rudimentary sense of identity, rather than to say or advance anything really substantial. The only thing I could derive from these hastily constructed artistic backgrounds was that art needs to enter commerce to survive. Was this the amazing revelation that this book claimed it would give me about the society in which I live? I certainly hope not. I am not above admitting that there may be a deep and complex point that I simply may not have understood. I am however an intelligent, educated human being. I very rarely feel that a book is ‘over my head’ so to speak but perhaps this one is. If I delved deeper into it perhaps I might find the promised revelation of my reality staring me in the face, but to be frank the book was not constructed in a way that gave me any interest or inclination to re-read it, let alone pull it apart and find its hidden meanings.
Don’t get me wrong, this is not by any stretch of the imagination a ‘terrible’ book. I simply found it un-engaging and alienating. The constant product placement made me even more unable to relate. I don’t wear Adidas, I don’t us a PowerBook, and I simply don’t think that using an iPod for data storage instead of simply music is an original concept.
Frankly Spook Country is readable, but far from Gibson’s best work. The overall experience was underwhelming and disappointing.
Review also available at http://iblamewizards.com/review-willi...
May 12, 2023
Dwie gwiazdki za ciekawą koncepcje, ale jej potencjał został zmarnowany:/
November 2, 2022
This near-future thriller is the second novel in William Gibson’s Blue Ant series, which consists of
#1 Pattern Recognition (2003)
#2 Spook Country (2007)
#3 Zero History (2010)
18 January 2009 - ****. The novel seems barely related to Gibson's earlier Pattern Recognition, sharing the character Huburtus Bigend and his Blue Ant agency. It follows three story lines, two of which run together for most of the book, while the third merges only near the end. The beginning of the book can be difficult to follow, due to vague development of characters and relationships in a complex plot construction. While barely speculative in any scientific or technological sense, this book somehow still works like science fiction, revealing an unfamiliar world.
In what is probably the main story line, Hollis Henry, former member of the rock band Curfew, failed investor, and now trying to launch a new career as a journalist is hired by Blue Ant to develop a story on a new locative artform. But this investigation leads into deeper and deeper layers of international intrigue, which involve her mysterious employer as well. Finally, the plot moves into its post-9/11 "spook country" where individuals and groups operate for their own reasons, beyond those of governments or criminal organizations. It's a fascinating trip.
#1 Pattern Recognition (2003)
#2 Spook Country (2007)
#3 Zero History (2010)
18 January 2009 - ****. The novel seems barely related to Gibson's earlier Pattern Recognition, sharing the character Huburtus Bigend and his Blue Ant agency. It follows three story lines, two of which run together for most of the book, while the third merges only near the end. The beginning of the book can be difficult to follow, due to vague development of characters and relationships in a complex plot construction. While barely speculative in any scientific or technological sense, this book somehow still works like science fiction, revealing an unfamiliar world.
In what is probably the main story line, Hollis Henry, former member of the rock band Curfew, failed investor, and now trying to launch a new career as a journalist is hired by Blue Ant to develop a story on a new locative artform. But this investigation leads into deeper and deeper layers of international intrigue, which involve her mysterious employer as well. Finally, the plot moves into its post-9/11 "spook country" where individuals and groups operate for their own reasons, beyond those of governments or criminal organizations. It's a fascinating trip.
February 9, 2008
This was the most elegantly written bad book I have read in a long time.
As usual, Gibson's use of language was excellent and evocative. He clearly researched his topics.
The problem comes from the fact that several of the topics were completely unnecessary, and added little or nothing to the story. Hollis Henry and the locative art angle, and by extension Bigend, Ollie, Odile, and the various artists were completely useless. There was no consequence to their actions. Nothing in the main plot involving the mystery box ended up being affected by their actions. But we still get dozens if not 100+ pages about them, and locative art.
The same is true of Milgrim and his heresy obsession. Milgrim performs one action, one time. There is no reason Brown couldn't have had his skill set, or a computer programmed to do the same thing. Instead we get page upon page about Rize, Ativan, and middle ages heresy. For nothing.
The Santeria angle is equally unnecessary, but at least it is background into Tito, who has the singular distinction on actually accomplishing something. Even then, he was just a foot soldier taking orders, not an actor in his own right.
To be honest, this book reads as though Gibson laid out a list of his current interests (messianism, Santeria, rich people, locative art, product placement, freerunning) and decided to see how he could shoehorn them into a book.
I was so very disappointed.
As usual, Gibson's use of language was excellent and evocative. He clearly researched his topics.
The problem comes from the fact that several of the topics were completely unnecessary, and added little or nothing to the story. Hollis Henry and the locative art angle, and by extension Bigend, Ollie, Odile, and the various artists were completely useless. There was no consequence to their actions. Nothing in the main plot involving the mystery box ended up being affected by their actions. But we still get dozens if not 100+ pages about them, and locative art.
The same is true of Milgrim and his heresy obsession. Milgrim performs one action, one time. There is no reason Brown couldn't have had his skill set, or a computer programmed to do the same thing. Instead we get page upon page about Rize, Ativan, and middle ages heresy. For nothing.
The Santeria angle is equally unnecessary, but at least it is background into Tito, who has the singular distinction on actually accomplishing something. Even then, he was just a foot soldier taking orders, not an actor in his own right.
To be honest, this book reads as though Gibson laid out a list of his current interests (messianism, Santeria, rich people, locative art, product placement, freerunning) and decided to see how he could shoehorn them into a book.
I was so very disappointed.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,571 reviews