I wanted to like this book; I really, really did. I thought something set in a post-9/11 world that still has elements of cyberpunk--I could TOTALLY get on board with that. And yet...

This book disappointed me for myriad reasons--one dimensional characters and holes in the plot you could drive a Buick through are two that come immediately to mind. Futhermore, this novel seems to move at a snails pace, characters literally going from place to place and through the mundane motions of life, then all of the sudden BAM! Its as though Gibson had a moment of illumination, said "Oh, THIS is what this novel is SUPPOSED to be about, but damned if I'm going to go back and re-write!" Thus, the last third of the book is nothing but exposition as to what the characters--specifcally the heroine Cayce (pronounced "Case"... yes, like that oh so famous anti-hero of Gibson's most famous novel. And yes, it should occur to you that he's ridding some coattails here, hoping to evoke the ghosts of novels past in order to infuse some life into this one)--are thinking, feeling, and doing.

Partly, what this novel lacks is a compelling main character. Sure, we've got the female Cayce, and at inital glance she's quite intruiging. She's got this cool "power" or intuition for branding: she quite literally gets sick when confronted with ineffectively or over branded products. Which I was totally down with--alright Mr. Gibson, lets rank on consumeristic society!--yet some how this Cayce falls short of the other Case. Where as the other Case was a touch passive (and thus in need of the Razor Girl Molly) this Cayce is active (she even breaks a goon's nose at one point) and while this may sound promising, it falls flat. Part of the reason being that while her active self is fully developed, her internal emotional self is not. [reveal spoiler][hide spoiler]  The male Case of Neuromancer is compelled to do what he does for myriad reasons--one of the more intruiging being the way that the AI Wintermute is able to play on his emotions for long-lost love Linda Lee. Similarily, Cayce of Pattern Recognition faces not only the loss of a father (to the terrorist attacks of 9/11) but emotional ties to this online video she's investigating and two men in her life. Gibson writes this Cayce as cool calm and collected, rarely mentioning any emotion what-so-ever until the climatic moment. And then it is too late. By then, the reader has constructed Cayce as an unfeeling automaton. All the beautifully written, emotive stuff at the end of the novel--the revelation that she loves Parkaboy, the scene at the mass gravesite, and so forth--all fall way short of the emotional mark. I found myself wondering at one point why it is that authors often write male protagonists as falling in love from a heroic standpoint and female protagonists falling in love because, well, they're female and they can't help themselves. Boy Case, for example, loved Linda Lee but left her because she was no good. Yet, he'd save her if he could--and he tries (and fails). Boy Case is attracted to and intimidated by Razor Girl Molly, has sex with her, but doesn't truly love her until she's beaten bloody and needs saving. Girl Case, on the other hand, remains chaste (no falling into bed with anyone until her feelings are clearly expressed) and "feels bad" for spurning one potential lover for another EVEN THOUGH one potential lover has jerked her over--i.e. had a girlfriend that he lied about. Male protagonists are able to cut and run on love, females must wallow in it.

Additionally, the themes of the novel seem garbled. Initially, as I suggested, this book reads as though it is going to be a commentary on anti-consumerism. Yet, Gibson fails to explain why a character who has such a reaction to branding that she files the brand names off the buttons of her jeans would be so attached to a branded re-production bomber jacket. Then there's the 9/11 stuff. Gibson hints at it, chases after it, and ultimately can't decide what to do with it. Thus the reader is left wondering if he's trying to draw a parallell between the terrorist attacks of 9/11 and the WWII Russian mass grave that one of the other characters is poking about (and if that's an intended parallell, its contrived and reaching). Then there's the use of technology--a hallmark of Gibson novels. Again, it falls short of Gibson's seminole work as the themes associated with technology--Big Brother is watching you, and thus manipulating you--are old and tired by this point.

However, there was one theme/concept of this novel I found compelling: the infusion of technology and art. The producers of the online segments--the people that Cayce is seeking--are using technology to create this beautifullyl rendered storyline of two lovers (or so the whole world assumes). Yet, when Cayce discovers these two artists--a pair of Russian mafia boss neices (that's right, I said Russian Mafia...like I said, holes one could drive a Buick through)--she also discovers that the "story" created by these images is subjective and that the audience has peiced it together as a story and not the artist. That, for me, was a mind blowing moment: to be reminded that art isn't so much what the artist wants us to see or feel, but rather what we, as the viewers, place on the art. Whoa.

Overall, the story is not as tight as Neuromancer in terms of character, plot, and theme. However, it is not a read devoid of entertainment or enjoyment. Just don't expect the tightness of Gibson's former works.