[05.06.00]

So, I attempted to sit down and read The Cryptonomicon.  The book received
absolutely stunning reviews on Slashdot, and it really seemed like it should 
(ahem, *should*) have been a great read.  Boy was I in for a shock.

Stephenson has many titles under his belt, and for some odd reason is some sort
of a "cyberpunk" icon in many circles.  But damn, if his writing (at least
in the Cryptonomicon) garbage!

I sat through over 900 pages of torture, and when it was done, I was both
glad that it was over, and felt cheated at the same time.

Initially, the book started off slow, and despite my initial aprehension that
it was going no where fast, I figured the wordy beginning was merely laying
down groundwork for an impressive literary work.  Well, thats what I get I suppose
for making assumptions.  I read on, hoping it would pick up pace and really start
moving.  Wrong again.  The only points in this novel where anything resembling
momentum appeared were completely unappreciable because they're swift moving
happenings and the near-immediate resolutions were far, FAR too conventient, even
for a work of ficiton.  It made the all-to-convenient coincidences in James Bond
movies seem not only beleivable, but almost every day occurances!

Considernig the amount of real world history that is touched upon, which partially 
actually hinged on primary characters, you'd hope that historical accuracy would
have been a consideration, if only to make everything more plausable for the reader,
but no such luck here!  Historical portrayals are modified for a seemingly lazy author
who spent more time going off about details of surroundings which had *no* impact
or relevance to the story, than on the actual substance of the story itself.  What
we have basically been handed is function following form, style leading substance.

So why did I keep reading it?  Despite the large size of this lovely new doorstop,
once one is two hundred pages into something, stopping and writing off the time invested
feels like a bit of a loss of personal time.  Plus, I kept hoping that it would actually
*improve* at some point.  Oh well.

By far, the worst part was the ending.  In what appears to be a rush to pull all
of the poor subplots together in under 1,000 pages, the remaining 20 or 30 pages 
are completely rushed, questions are left unanswered and again, very convient
circumstances present themselves to aide the author in half-assing his way through 
having to think and apply his gray matter.

The best comparison for the ending that jumps to mind is to compare the book to a 
miniseries on television, running two or three hours a night for five nights solid, 
and the last half hour is spent wrapping up the previous ten hours in a whirlwind 
of unbeleivable solutions.

-aj.

Comments?  Complaints?  Lentil Soup Recipes?  Mail me.










Copyright © 1999 Aj Effin ReznoR, ReznoR Allied
Technologies.  All rights reserved.