Penguin Balloons

William Gibson – Zero History

The Twitter Logo (see below for relevance [not commented on however is the fact that Twitter seemed to enjoy more of a reputation as a revolutionary communication tool from media, than it actually received from participants of the internet])

PERHAPS I was a little cruel when I criticised Gibson’s characterisation in Idoru. There was just a certain naivety about the work, and not just that of his absurd technological predictions. Gibson’s bleak prediction of a cyberpunk future seems to me very much a product of its time. So where does that leave Zero History – a novel published in this decade? Certainly it is too late to be looking forwards to a world where we all jack into the internet in full virtual reality. Where does this leave a writer like Gibson, famous for his technological predictions?

                For one thing, I thought that Gibson’s naivety really worked in Idoru: the future was a bleak one, corrupt and dark, but it was a backdrop from which he could explore humanity from a dual perspective: dark and naive at the same time. Zero History seems to have this built into it as well. The novel takes place, for the most part, in London and Gibson certainly puts a lot of emphasis on the famous surveillance of the city, and there is a plausible link between it and the media (which isn’t explored to its fullest extent). The naivety in the novel is reflected in the main character’s way of dealing with technology. For instance, he is advised to communicate with an American Secret Agent by way of Twitter:

The Neo [his telephone] rang while he was still trying to grasp Twitter. He was registered, now, as GAYDOLPHIN2. No followers, following no one. Whatever that meant. And his updates, whatever those were, were protected. Zero History, Chapter 18 ‘140’

Here, rather than a naivety about the way technology will develop, or from an adolescent character (who was nonetheless tech-savvy) we have a mid to late twenties guy trying to figure out a piece of web-technology of complete simplicity (even its jargon is self-explanatory really, who, reading a sci-fi novel won’t be savvy enough to work it out/know already). We have a sense of fish-out-of-water-ness about our protagonist, which seems more a reflection of Gibson’s own feeling than one that should be realistically attached to the character. Further, there is a touch of sexuality towards the end of the book involving convoluted reasons for having the male lead and a subsidiary female character sleep in the same bed (almost buff) and shower together. Gibson’s treatment of this is shockingly puerile to say the least – what I was keen to pass off as a masterly representation of teenage sexuality in Idoru seems completely out of place here.

                Aside from this, the plot features elements like secret-brands, marketing balloons and the idea of having temporary complete knowledge of the market. The former idea, secret-brands, is an interesting one, and I found myself thinking it would be an interesting idea if it was true. However, what possible commentary on commercialism does this offer to the reader? Gibson could have dealt with hypocrisy and desire in sellers and consumers any number of times in the novel – he doesn’t. He talks merely of the mistreatment of models in the fashion industry (as motivation for a few characters starting their secret brands), but this seems to imply that the secret-brand business structure is a return to un-corrupted commercial values, and this is simply not true. Sure, the Art Industry works on the idea of the uniqueness of its product – but fashion is not the same, Art works because it can be purchased as an investment with the potential to last centuries if well preserved (and should overall, only increase in value as it gets more scarce/art gets more in demand), fashion products don’t work in this way, they have a very limited lifespan that is simply part of their nature. Maybe I’m being an idiot here and there are such things as Secret Brands – in which case, I’d like to know how they work financially and at what point they cease to be allowed the adjective (and is the latter the aim). Marketing balloons and knowledge of the market kind of link together here: the point seems to be simply that marketing has become absurd, to the point where it wouldn’t be entirely strange to have a strange floating penguin going through the streets, or was the point that it was so strange as to become invisible, like Gibson’s ugly T-Shirt that cannot be picked up by CCTV.

                Ok, perhaps I’ll admit that there are some very nice ideas here, and it seems that the majority of the characters in the novel are repeats from an earlier book in the same trilogy – no problem – but it seems that these ideas don’t seem to quite gel together right. Also, the ending, with its fairly high-octaneity seems a little sudden. I would have liked to have seen something a little more subtle. Overall, I definitely enjoyed the book – what I disliked was the seeming abandonment of what I perceive to be Sci-Fi’s main aim – to explore the relation between humanity and technology (what it means to be human in the post-technological world). Also, the twitter/iPhone/dongle stuff was rather misapplied – I felt it would have been far more congruous to simply have them stuck into the plot as an element. These technologies have hardly sprung up overnight – sure, if I think back even just a decade, it would be hard to imagine how much they have penetrated society – but these things, mobile-phones-as-computers, web 2.0, dongles (which have been around for ages) represent the culmination of a long process of development which saw more and more applications (Mp3, Video, Touchscreen) being slowly incorporated into phones, the ability to comment online moving slowly from message-boards, to articles, to then whole sites of just commentary, and dongles – well dongles are old, man.