i finished reading William Gibson’s “Neuromancer” last week
and…
it was a great read
great story
unlike, say “Snow Crash” by Neal Stephenson (who was probably very inspired by Gibson’s writing), it did not carry the weight of the world on its shoulders…
not even in the plot… ostensibly.
( i suppose it did… in its subtle way… i have to read more of his work, now, to understand just how… coz only in the end did it feel like it had the potential to…)
part of what i loved best was how most of the Human characters in the story were so flawed and very OUT OF IT
not on top of it
very confused and fallen and …
Human.
very Human.
however
one of the Non Human characters was half of the Personality of the AI that was trying to unify and break free… the namesake of the book
encrypted with much more meaning than “we” could ever fathom
he had locked the main human character, Case, in his realm of stored memories… personalities…
and explained to him that he could create this realm from people’s minds…
when Case said “but i don’t remember all this stuff to such great detail… how do you do it?”
the computer replied (something like)
“every human does– Memory is Holographic… but it is only great artists that know how to access it”
this interraction seems to be what resonated most with me from the Novel.
i’ve been obsessed with memory most of my life.
how i could remember the clearest of details from a novel that i read after or before my brother
and he was shocked
as he only rememberd the curves and shapes…
how i could remember the lyrics to “3000 pop songs”
how people, even now, are astounded by the details i remember
yet
most my childhood is grey and cloudy
near non-existant.
When i started reading John Crowley’s works back in ’99
i was entroduced to “the Art of Memory”
and learned more about it 2002 when i was staying in Italy on an olive farm
not able to converse with anyone, for i knew no italian and they knew no english (i cooked food for them instead)
and read Crowley’s “Ægypt”
which featured the man “Giordano Bruno”
burned at the Campo Fioro (and i was staying at a place called “campo fiorito”
after being caught by the Inquisition
he was the most famed in The Art of Memory
as taught by the Dominican order
(who probably got it from the greeks)
i feel i must find my way into my memories before i can step into my rightful place of power
(Maupin’s “Further Tales of the City”, finished last night, brought me back into the phrase “Those who do not remember the past are condemed to repeat it” through the ravenous ravings of Jim Jones)
and it bothers me to no end that most of my childhood is a could
(though, i must admit, certain land-marks stick out… like crags in the sea of dreams)
Reading Delany’s biography further frustrates me…
the deatails from his childhood he is able to conjur up
(he makes his own references to Wizard’s and their apprentances)
how can i use my imagination so beautifuly
if i cannot even use my memory with such grace?
i must set about finding these landmarks
latching onto them
and clinging to them
as bouys in the deep sea
to prevent myself from drowning
and further desolation
i will have to create the island that will turn these floating towers into trees in a place yet alive again.
Struggle
and fear
scary undertaking
(there must be a reason i’m hiding from myself)
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