On William Gibson's "Neuromancer"

None of you told me this book was good and I'm very mad about that.

Yes, I know it's a seminal work of science fiction, and yes, I know that "The Matrix" borrows lovingly from it, and yes, I know that William Gibson is credited with coining the term "cyberspace," but somehow, in all that factoid fidgetry, no one bothered to tell me plainly that the writing kicks ass.

Just look at this sentence describing cyberspace rushing out at our main character:

"And [it] flowed, flowered for him, fluid neon origami trick, the unfolding of his distanceless home, his country, transparent 3-D chessboard extending to infinity."

Never mind that chessboard bullshit for a second, because, excuse me, "fluid neon origami trick" —?!??— Right?

I'm mostly quiet about my disdain for "beach reads" because polite society seeks comfort, but this isn't society and I'm not polite: Beach reads are lazy, bland entertainment and none of that is fun—fluid neon origami trick is fun! and that's because it's fun, goddammit, to rotate words around in your head and see what shapes their shadows cast.

Joy Williams excels at this brusque magic, binding dissimilar words to induce visions (I recall a sentence from "The Changeling" conjuring a "knife of light"), but Gibson is a master of something more kinetic and film-grained. His words race beneath strips of sodium vapor, glimpses burnt in auburn and shadow.

That said, there is a convincing argument that Gibson should've been fucking powerbombed for supercharging the fetishization of Japanese culture. From the "sarariman" (🤮) to the chrome shuriken (🙄) to Neal Stephenson's eventual homage-cum-plagiarist work "Snow Crash"—it follows a katana-wielding character named "Hiro Protagonist" who drops in at a virtual nightclub featuring a "DJ Sushi" (🫨😶🫥)—this book's cultural influence is a menace.