I can see that a lot of thought went into this review, but I have to admit I can't see what came out of it. Perhaps someone with a clearer understanding than I might lend a hand?
The book outlines a world where franchisers run everything, including jails. It's a cookie-cutter world; instances of each franchise are very standardized, and this is a plot point. The hero delivers pizza for the Mafia run pizza franchise, when he's not hacking code. The heroine is a 15-year old skateboarding courier girl with a really good skateboard.
There's a big virtual world, run partly by the Special Interest Group on Graphics of the Association for Computing Machinery. The VR world is a lot like Second Life but with VR and better graphics; you can buy real estate and build. The hero spends a lot of time in there, but that's not where the plot happens.
The Big Bad is a mega-preacher who has a visual data pattern which allows him to take over, or at least crash, human brains. This involves info from ancient gods and such. He's trying to take over the world.
It's a great exercise in literary world-building; the plot isn't much and there's little character development.
A movie was in development, but it didn't happen. It would be great to see it done it today, now that the graphics are good enough. Would definitely have been better than Tron 2.
Heh, yeah. Tron 2 was disapointing to day the least.
Stephenson's novels in general are like this, although Cryptonomicon for one certainly has better character development than Snow Crash: they're a disorderly jumble of whatever ideas Stephenson thought were interesting at the time, wrapped in a skin of plot, and enfleshed in the characters that surround, encounter, and explore them. Stephenson sometimes jumps the rails entirely, writing long monologues, dialogues, and digressions that barely refer to the characters or plot at all, just because he thought the ideas were neat (most of Randy and Pontifex's discussions in prison, The mathematics of Alan's bicycle chain, a good stretch of Hiro's discussions with the Librarian (although nowhere near all of them), and Hiro's adventures in Flatland on the raft (you can just feel the seeds of In The Beginning Was The Command Line, struggling to get out)), or for reasons known only to him (probably because he thought it was funny) (the TP memo, the stockings/Van Eck... thing). To some people this may be seen as a disjointed, overhyped, overcomplicated mess, but to the right sort of mind, it's an almost magical experience.
Curiously, these sorts of people tend to be heavily into computing, which is why Stephenson pervades that culture.
Or that's wrong, and I'm just completely mad. That's also a possibility.
I think you are right, and I've at times struggled to explain why I enjoy his books as much as I do. I think ultimately he leans regularly on a facet of SF that in that genre, ideas and abstractions can be the equal subjects of character development. Cleverly developing an idea (e.g. mind virii) and circling back on those ideas, exploring how different facets connect in different ways, is the kind of thing one does with a human character, but can also do with an "idea character" in SF.
Obviously the craft and virtue of that kind of thing is in the relationships of the concept to other elements of the tale, both human and non-human. This I think Stephenson does very well, but I can appreciate that for someone who doesn't extend subjectivity largesse to abstractions, it can be tedious to read wikipedia-like explositions, no matter how well done. :-)
Well, that's always nice to know. Although I don't know how many people know what it means, and I don't think it encompasses all of what makes Stephenson Stephenson, anymore than "satirical fantasy" comes close to encompassing Pratchett's Discworld's writing style.
Certainly not! And I hope I haven't given insult. If so, it was entirely unintentional on my part, and I apologize for my carelessness in so doing. I'll put more thought into my words next time.
Don't get me wrong - I don't mean to say that all of Stephenson can be encompassed in those two words. Were that the case, he wouldn't have had to spend time writing books. I mean only that, if you're looking for a handy way to convey a primacy of idea over character in what an author chooses to explore, "high concept" is an adjectival phrase commonly understood to carry that meaning. Might save you some time, is all. (And, on the Internet of 2016, a dictionary is never far away...)
I think that's a really good synopsis of Stephenson's style, which is in part why I like his writing. There's always these little gems of actual knowledge buried in there. I find them delightful.
I'm not super fond of the way he ends things, but the journey along the way always has fun side trails to explore.
If you're mad, then sign me up for your newsletter.
Yeah, his novels don't end, they just kind of stop. It's the same problem Porco Rosso and several They Might Be Giants songs have. This was particularly noticable in Cryptonomicon: It felt like it was building up to a climactic ending that didn't happen (which isn't to say the ending wasn't climactic, it just wasn't climactic enough to feel like a payoff to that buildup).
The closest thing I've got to a newsletter, or blog, or whatever, is the inane, insane, smart, stupid, and ridiculous comments that I post into the mass of such comments that is HN. So you may see me around.
I've always enjoyed his endings myself, and didn't even really notice anything unusual about them until I saw other people ragging on them, which made me notice what they were complaining about more but didn't really change my opinion.
It's a matter of opinion. Whether you'll complain about it can be gauged by how much you liked Pirate Radio, and your reaction to the end of Porco Rosso.
I suppose the endings are where he has to stick to the plan while writing, no wonder they feel entirely out of place. He gives just about everyone and everything the reader met on all those pages before their five lines of being part of the ending, as if working off a checklist. This might look like the most awesome showdown ever before it's written, but it rarely turns into a particularly good read.
The one disadvatage of textual communication is that the person on the other end is incapable of listening to Reason. It's why the internet is so devoid of Reason.
Reason can be had by measurement. Humans love to measure things. On the other hand, we also love to antagonize on how much to measure, how long to measure it, and what all the numbers mean once we've written them down. Sometimes writing things down is less likely when one is being reasonable.
I agree that there are times when a "Reader's Digest" condensed version would be an interesting read. Then again, I do feel like I get my money's worth out of every book.
Tron 2 wasn't so bad when you consider that it gave a lot of screen time to Olivia Wilde.
I can't totally hate Tron 2: it gave both Emacs and a Real CLI screen time. But neither that nor Olivia Wilde makes up for weak writing, and a nonsensical paint-by-numbers excuse plot, to say nothing of choices which undermine the aestetic, in the sequel to a movie that lived on aestetic, and actually had a less paint-by-numbers plot (somehow).
I don't want to hate it, but I don't feel like I was given a choice.
I've found that Snow Crash is one of those books that pretty strongly divides readers. Some people are very fond of it; others bounce off of it, often commenting that something about it rubs them the wrong way. Not many readers are in the middle.
I'm definitely in the former camp, even though I can see the book's weaknesses from a writing perspective. In the essay, I wanted to express some thoughts on why the book's fans respond to it, to the point that it has been rather influential in the world beyond fiction.
