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A review by oleksandr
Synners by Pat Cadigan
2.0
This is a cyberpunk novel with musicians instead of shades-wearing hackers. It was nominated for Nebula in 1991. I read it as a part of Monthly reads in Hugo & Nebula Awards: Best Novels for September 2019.
The story follows multiple characters and starts with a twist:
"I'm going to die," said Jones.
The statuesque tattoo artist paused between the lotuses she was applying to the arm of the space case lolling half-conscious in the chair. "What, again?"
The following first third of the book introduces a number of diverse characters (with unusual for the time strong female cast), who are (in no particular order): a musical video producer, young and old hackers, a producer of interactive immersing games, based on old movies, several musicians, a low rank manager, ready to kill in order to advance, a sentient AI. Because the reader falls in the midst of the story, it moistly reads as ‘wtf is happening?’
As story progresses we, readers get a better understanding what’s going on and there is an interesting mix of great predictions and errors that seem obvious. The most glaring inconsistency is an absence of web search engine, like Google now and AltaVista in 1995. Yes, the web itself was announced in 1990 and first web-searchers appeared in 1993 but search function was used earlier both on local computers and pre-WWW networks. Instead in the book they crawl through directory trees. The strongest prediction is user-generated video content (think YouTube).
From reviews here on GR many reviewers were impressed by the ending and upped their ratings due to it. For me it was yes, unusual, but nothing extraordinary. To evade spoilers there is a lengthy adventure in virtual reality that constantly reshapes earlier memories and experiences of the characters, a bit like [b:Elysium|23374690|Elysium|Jennifer Marie Brissett|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1413941458l/23374690._SY75_.jpg|42932369]. The concept is interesting but I wasn’t enamored with execution.
"They might yet. 'Truth is cheap, but information costs.' I can't remember who said that."
"Vince What's-His-Name," said Sam. "Died in a terrorist raid or something. I thought you said all information should be free."
"It should. It isn't. Knowledge is power. But power corrupts. Which means the Age of Fast Information is an extremely corrupt age in which to live."
"Aren't they all?" Sam asked him.
He smiled his dreamy little smile at her. "Ah, but I think we're approaching a kind of corruption unlike anything we've ever known before, Sam-I-Am. Sometimes I think we may be on the verge of an original sin."
"TV and more TV. It looks like something out of an old movie," Sam said. "Forty, fifty years ago, they were always dragging out the TV screens when they wanted to show what the glorious future would look like. As if the future was just going to be more TV."
They'd be cut off from the rest of the world. Sam couldn't remember a time in her life when that had ever happened before; twenty-four hours a day every day for almost eighteen years, she had been within arm's reach of outside contact; the idea of not having anything made her feel claustrophobic, and she said so.
"I've never thought of it that way," Fez told her. "Though I must admit, I've felt antsy since the dataline went down. It bothers me that I can't press a button and check on the rest of the world, or at least the small parts of it that I'm interested in. I'm not the only one. You haven't been able to walk around and see it, dear, but the irritability threshold around here is lower than it used to be. We're not in our natural habitat anymore. We've become denizens of the net. Homo datum."
"Synners."
The story follows multiple characters and starts with a twist:
"I'm going to die," said Jones.
The statuesque tattoo artist paused between the lotuses she was applying to the arm of the space case lolling half-conscious in the chair. "What, again?"
The following first third of the book introduces a number of diverse characters (with unusual for the time strong female cast), who are (in no particular order): a musical video producer, young and old hackers, a producer of interactive immersing games, based on old movies, several musicians, a low rank manager, ready to kill in order to advance, a sentient AI. Because the reader falls in the midst of the story, it moistly reads as ‘wtf is happening?’
As story progresses we, readers get a better understanding what’s going on and there is an interesting mix of great predictions and errors that seem obvious. The most glaring inconsistency is an absence of web search engine, like Google now and AltaVista in 1995. Yes, the web itself was announced in 1990 and first web-searchers appeared in 1993 but search function was used earlier both on local computers and pre-WWW networks. Instead in the book they crawl through directory trees. The strongest prediction is user-generated video content (think YouTube).
From reviews here on GR many reviewers were impressed by the ending and upped their ratings due to it. For me it was yes, unusual, but nothing extraordinary. To evade spoilers there is a lengthy adventure in virtual reality that constantly reshapes earlier memories and experiences of the characters, a bit like [b:Elysium|23374690|Elysium|Jennifer Marie Brissett|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1413941458l/23374690._SY75_.jpg|42932369]. The concept is interesting but I wasn’t enamored with execution.
"They might yet. 'Truth is cheap, but information costs.' I can't remember who said that."
"Vince What's-His-Name," said Sam. "Died in a terrorist raid or something. I thought you said all information should be free."
"It should. It isn't. Knowledge is power. But power corrupts. Which means the Age of Fast Information is an extremely corrupt age in which to live."
"Aren't they all?" Sam asked him.
He smiled his dreamy little smile at her. "Ah, but I think we're approaching a kind of corruption unlike anything we've ever known before, Sam-I-Am. Sometimes I think we may be on the verge of an original sin."
"TV and more TV. It looks like something out of an old movie," Sam said. "Forty, fifty years ago, they were always dragging out the TV screens when they wanted to show what the glorious future would look like. As if the future was just going to be more TV."
They'd be cut off from the rest of the world. Sam couldn't remember a time in her life when that had ever happened before; twenty-four hours a day every day for almost eighteen years, she had been within arm's reach of outside contact; the idea of not having anything made her feel claustrophobic, and she said so.
"I've never thought of it that way," Fez told her. "Though I must admit, I've felt antsy since the dataline went down. It bothers me that I can't press a button and check on the rest of the world, or at least the small parts of it that I'm interested in. I'm not the only one. You haven't been able to walk around and see it, dear, but the irritability threshold around here is lower than it used to be. We're not in our natural habitat anymore. We've become denizens of the net. Homo datum."
"Synners."