Should you read Neuromancer?
Does William Gibson’s cyberpunk classic hold up for a 21st Century reader?
Alex Analysis Part #2. Read Part #1 here.
I have taken it upon myself to read all the books that white cishet men have deemed sci-fi classics, point out the good bits, call out the concerning parts, and come to a conclusion about whether or not it’s worth reading for an informed twenty-first century consumer like yourself.
I started with Red Mars, and you can read my conclusions here. Next up is Neuromancer.
Let me give you a quick summary: Case used to be a “console cowboy,” a hacker for hire, but when got caught stealing from an employer he was punished — they damaged his nervous system so he can no longer jack into the matrix, keeping him from doing any kind of hacking ever again. Then this guy Arimitage shows up and promises to restore Case’s abilities if he commits to helping with a heist. Turns out this heist has to do with two A.I.s, Wintermute and Neuromancer, who are secretly puppeting everything, including Armitage.
First of all, stellar name. Wasted on a book that’s NOT about bringing people’s brains back from the dead. A little misleading when it comes to the actual content of the book.
If you’re familiar with any cyberpunk fiction, it’s pretty clear just how foundational Neuromancer was. From the robotic body modifications to the futuristic arcade cabinets to the AI projections, everything about this book has become emblematic of the genre — even the fact that it takes place in Japan, which interestingly has also become a marker of cyberpunk since Japan was considered to be the leader of technology and innovation when the genre was first emerging in the 1980s.
It was an aesthetic trendsetter for sure, but also subtle is its seeding of transhumanist ideas. For the sake of this article, we’ll define trasnhumanism like this: an exploration of all the ways humans and machines may become one. You may read this definition and think I’m referring to the eponymous Neuromancer, or Wintermute, the two warring Artificial Intelligences that the story centers on. But no, I’m actually less interested in the ways that the computers become more human and a lot more interested in the ways that the humans become more computer. When we first meet Case, his tragedy is that his ability to jack into the matrix* has been taken away from him. For us, this ability is pure science fiction. For him, it’s like losing a limb. The ability to connect to the matrix, to be part machine, has become crucial to his life experience as a human being. That’s transhumanism, baby!
Then there’s Molly. Molly, too, has had her body modified, most notably with reflective glass welded over her eyes to give her permanent sunglasses. This doesn’t resonate quite as much with the theme of transhumanism. In my article for ASPEC Journal, which you can read here, I introduced the idea of the “sexy cyborg,” a woman who is part-machine, who is both sexually and literally objectified thanks to her inherent status as a tool rather than a person. Molly has more technological body enhancements then she has personality traits, and we hear more about her sex appeal than we do any other aspect of her character. She is the “sexy cyborg” incarnate.
Molly, however, is not where the poor treatment of women stops. Let’s not forget about Linda. And it is easy to forget about Linda, since she’s fridged so close to the beginning of the story. For those unfamiliar with the concept of fridging — as I was until I read analysis of Deadpool 2 — it’s the idea that women are killed, often brutally, to provide motivation to the central male character. It is a unique kind of objectification — instead of being a sexual object, the woman is an emotional one. No real character or agency of her own, just a prop to spur action.
We know two things about Linda: Case used to date her (and might still have feelings for her), and she died. The only two women in the book are both there to serve a purpose for the men without any kind of individual characteristics. There’s also the question of the portrayal of sex work in Neuromancer — and in science fiction and fantasy, but I’m saving that for another essay.
So let’s get back to the core of my question: for the contemporary reader, does Neuromancer hold up? I would say that so long as your are armed with your feminist critiques going in, the answer is yes. Know that the treatment of women leaves much to be desired, and I wouldn’t call William Gibson a pioneer of gender equality, but I did still enjoy the experience — not only as a peek at the origins of cyberpunk, but as a good novel.
*For anyone who reads this and thinks hey, that sounds a lot like The Matrix, that’s because Neuormancer 100% inspired The Matrix.