William Gibson

Chevette rides as a courier, banging her paper laminate-framed bike through the streets of a future 'Frisco - she lives for it. On an impulse, she's risked everything; stolen a pair of sunglasses from some jerk. No ordinary shades, either: loaded with super-sensitive data, they could decide the destiny of the entire city. Rydell is working for Mr Warbaby, who has been hired to recover the glasses. But Rydell is none too sure that he likes his new employment opportunity; with SFPD Homicide involved, an abandoned bridge populated by freaks and misfits, and some weirdness involving the Republic of Desire and a 'Death Star', it's turning out to be a very strange and dangerous scene indeed ...> William Gibson, author of the classic Neuromancer and creator of cyberpunk, here turns his hyper-acute imagination on the near future - to supercharged, nerve-shredding effect.

Virtual Light

里森

Was it significant that Skinner shared his dwelling with one who earned her living at the archaic intersection of information and geography?

Separated at Birth was a police program you used in missing persons cases. You scanned a photo of the person you wanted, got back the names of half a dozen celebrities who looked vaguely like the subject, then went around asking people if they’d seen anybody lately who reminded them of A, B, C… The weird thing was, it worked better than just showing them a picture of the subject.

Old National Geographics feature in The Peripheral, too.

the gaps were stuffed with pieces of rag, throwing shadows on the tattered yellow wall of National Geographics.

past a crew in wide-brim hardhats who were pouring the foundations for a palm tree.

The magazine belonged to Monica, the Chinese girl in the garage; she always got hers printed out so there was never any mention of scandal or disaster, but with a triple helping of celebrity romance, particularly anything to do with the British royal family.

Rydell’s roommate, Kevin Tarkovsky, wore a bone through his nose and worked in a wind-surfing boutique called Just Blow Me.

Skinner says it’s a fractal knife, its actual edge more than twice as long as the blade itself.

Rich people, had to be, and foreign, too. Though maybe rich was foreign enough.

But when the elevator doors opened, this Japanese girl fell out. Or near enough, Chevette grabbing her beneath both arms and propping her against the edge of the door. ‘Where party?’ ‘What folks gonna ask you,’ Chevette said.

And maybe, in that instant of weird clarity, with Gunhead’s crumpled front end still trying to climb the shredded remains of a pair of big leather sofas, and with the memory of Kenneth Turvey’s death finally real before him, Rydell had come to the conclusion that that high crazy thing, that rush of Going For It, was maybe something that wasn’t always quite entirely to be trusted.

There was a fridge-magnet on the thermos that said I’M NOT OKAY, YOU’RE NOT OKAY—BUT, HEY, THAT’S OKAY.

Their uniforms were black and they were wearing the same kind of black high-top SWAT-trainers that Rydell had worn on patrol in Knoxville, the ones with the Kevlar insoles in case somebody snuck up and tried to shoot you in the bottom of the foot.

Then Sgt. Valdez went post-traumatic in stone bugfuck fashion, walking into a downtown tavern and clipping both kneecaps off a known pedophile—this amazingly repulsive character, nickname of Jellybeans, who had absolutely no connection with the Pooky Bear murders.

The cameras under the rear bumper were his favorites; they made parking really easy; you could see exactly where you were backing up.

His gaze strays to NHK Weather. A low-pressure front is crossing Kansas. Next to it, an eerily calm Islamic downlink ceaselessly reiterates the name of God in a fractal-based calligraphy.

a Japanese vodka, Come Back Salmon, its name more irritating than its lingering aftertaste.

But here the mirrored ziggurats down Lázaro Cárdenas flow with the luminous flesh of giants, shunting out the night’s barrage of dreams to the waiting avenidas—business as usual, world without end.

The courier presses his forehead against layers of glass, argon, high-impact plastic.

Jeff James

Engaging characters and snappy writing. Gibson is becoming one of my most favorite authors.

Garrett Jansen

Not peak Gibson but it was still a lot of fun. Has a fun merge of two different and interesting characters that cross in an exciting clash. The world building of Gibson is always lively and the wording concise with clever descriptions. 

A bummer that the audiobook is typically unavailable, although I'm still aiming to finish this trilogy by the end of the year.

Sherry

John Manoogian III

Hannah Swithinbank

Virtual Light - a gripping techno-thriller from William Gibson, bestselling author of Neuromancer San Francisco, the nearish future: Ex-cop Berry Rydell's lost one job he didn't much like and landed another he likes even less. Some sunglasses - actually high-end kit involving Virtual Reality and super-sensitive data - were stolen from a courier, and a man named Warbaby's been charged with retrieving them. Warbaby needs a driver and Rydell is the perfect fit. But when the courier is killed and Warbaby gets to work - giving Rydell a taste of what's expected and exactly what's at stake - he has second thoughts. Especially when he comes face to face with Chevette, stealer of sunglasses, who'll land an ex-cop in a heap of trouble . . . 'Audacious, witty and passionate. A wonderful read' Observer 'A stunner . . . a terrifically stylish burst of kick-butt imagination' Entertainment Weekly 'Studded with crackling insights into the relationship between technology, culture and morality, Virtual Lightdoesn't miss its stride for a nanosecond' Time Out William Gibson's first novel Neuromancer sold more than six million copies worldwide. Count Zero and Mona Lisa Overdrive completed his first trilogy. He has since written six further novels, moving gradually away from science fiction and futuristic work, instead writing about the strange contemporary world we inhabit. His most recent novels include Patter Recognition, Spook Country and Zero History, his non-fiction collection. Distrust That Particular Flavor, compiles assorted writings and journalism from across his career.

Coleman McCormick

Simon Oosterdijk

Cindy Lieberman

Daniel Cleveland

In 2005, in two Californias divided along seismic fault lines of power and wealth, ex-cop Berry Rydell is assigned to track people down through a maze of Virtual Reality

Virtual Light

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