Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson

After much deliberation, I've decided that Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson will be my selection. Much like Mrs. White and her selection of Gilead, I'm using my turn to select a book that is completely different from what we've read to this point, and unless I'm mistaken, it will be something completely new from a genre standpoint for a large majority of you. Unlike most of the people in this club, most of my reading, aside from our book club, comes from the fantasy and sci-fi genres, and I want to use my selections to broaden your horizons like you folks have broadened mine with your selections.

Snow Crash is sharp and funny, a nice counterpoint from Gilead. It will also be quite a culture shock; from John Ames' slow, sedate, spiritual world of the past to the near-future world of high speed pizza delivery that Hiro Protagonist lives in - when he's not jacked into the Metaverse. Yes, the protagonist's name is Hiro Protagonist. Stephenson has a wry sense of humor.

Snow Crash is one of the modern classics of science fiction, and Stephenson is one of the few sci-fi writers of today who has a chance to transcend the genre like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke. There's a lot to appreciate here, from the satire of modern life, to the Stephenson's vision of the future of computing and communications... and that's not even taking into account the story itself, which is plenty enough reason to love the book. As paul pointed out to me a few days ago, this is our longest selection to date, at 468 pages, but I don't anticipate that being much of an obstacle. This is a novel that was written to be read - not written to win a Pulitzer. The pace of the story carries the reader along with it, especially compared to previous selections like Revolutionary Road and Gilead... both great books, but they read like a Sunday drive. Snow Crash reads like a Formula 1 road race in comparison.

Here's what the publisher has to say:

Only once in a great while does a writer come along who defies comparison — a writer so original he redefines the way we look at the world. Neal Stephenson is such a writer and Snow Crash is such a novel, weaving virtual reality, Sumerian myth, and just about everything in between with a cool, hip cyber-sensibility to bring us the gigantic thriller of the information age.

In reality, Hiro Protagonist delivers pizza for Uncle Enzo's Cosa Nostra Inc., but it the Metaverse he's a warrior prince. Plunging headlong into the enigma of a new computer virus that's striking down hackers everywhere, he races along the neon-lit streets on a search-and-destroy mission for the shadowy virtual villain threatening to bring about infocalypse. Snow Crash is a mind-altering romp through a future America so bizarre, so outrageous... you'll recognize it immediately.

I think 4 weeks should be plenty of time for us finish the book so we can begin discussion. That would put us at September 6th. If people think they need longer (or heck, even shorter, since I read near half the book yesterday after composing this post), drop a comment here and we can modify as needed.

Gilead

Although Marilynne Robinson's Gilead had been strongly recommended to me by two people whose literary opinions I value quite highly, I now admit my initial reluctance to read it. A epistolary novel about a preacher in 1950s Iowa just didn't sound like something that would grab me, I suppose. And although the first fifty or so pages were exquisitely written and sprinkled with gorgeously constructed sentences and sentiments, I'm not entirely positive I would have made is past those first fifty meandering pages has it not been for two things: this book club, and this passage:

I'm writing this in part to tell you that if you ever wonder what you've done in your life, and everyone does wonder sooner or later, you have been God's grace to me, a miracle, something more than a miracle. You may not remember me very well at all, and it may seem to you to be no great thing to have been the good child of an old man in a shabby little town you will no doubt leave behind. If only I had the words to tell you...You're just a nice-looking boy, a bit slight, well scrubbed and well mannered. All that is fine, but it's your existence I love you for, mainly. Existence seems to me now the most remarkable thing that could ever be imagined (52-53).

As corny as it sounds, I fell in love with John Ames (and, consequently, this novel) during this moment, a moment which encapsulated John's worldview for me: there is the potential for grace in everyone, beauty and joy can be present in even the most ordinary of things, and the mere existence of a person can be miraculous. (Of course this worldview is tested later in the novel with the return of Jack Boughton, but that's a topic for discussion, I suppose.) And after a few more glittering moments like the one above, I stopped searching for a plot - though one does eventually emerge - and started reveling in the way the novel was making me feel. Gilead is perhaps the single most loving thing I have ever read. For me, this book was a source of calm during a time in my life when it was sorely needed, and I am deeply thankful to have read it.

(And for the record, I'm not just saying these things because this book was my choice. I quite sincerely mean every single sappy word.)

But with that said, I also understand that this is an incredibly challenging novel in a lot of ways. Some readers take issue with the use of religion, others with the seemingly random narrative structure, and I'm sure a great many readers called it quits before the eventual plot began to reveal itself. And although I can (and will) defend all these criticisms, I can't fault anyone for having them. Gilead is an acquired taste, and one probably needs to be in a certain frame of mind to fully appreciate it.

So, in accordance to custom, I've posted below several questions for possible discussion. I hope you all get a chance to share your thoughts at some point soon, and please feel free to add a topic/question if you feel there is something I have overlooked. After all, there's quite a lot here to discuss.

Style and Structure

I suppose as good a place to begin as any is with the thing that could make or break Gilead for its readers: its style. There are really two halves to this book - the first rooted mostly in the past, and the second focusing primarily on the present. Similarly, when the focus shifts from the past to the present, Robinson's method of storytelling shifts as well. Gilead is mostly narrative in the beginning - a series of letters to his son, the subject of which often seem random until we read a bit further and see how each observation or memory leads to another. This way, themes, symbols and plot threads are introduced and woven together to form the core of the novel. Later, when the focus shifts from Ames's family history to the return of Jack Boughton, the style shifts to something a bit more familiar - more dialogue and plot here than the largely stream-of-consciousness method employed in the beginning.

So, some questions:

What did you make of Robinson's method of storytelling? Did it work for you, or did it feel like a slow, meandering mess? Furthermore, in what ways did the changes in style reflect the changes in John Ames?

Fathers and Sons

"A man can know his father, or his son, and there might still be nothing between them but loyalty and love and mutual incomprehension." (7)

A prevailing theme in Gilead is the relationship between parents and their children, and in particular between fathers and sons. Often there's a tension at the core of those relationships, and it's that tension that influences the sons' future beliefs. Since there are so many facets to this theme thanks to the great number of parent/child combinations, I thought the most logical place to begin was with John Ames and his relationship with his son - who he is confident will be become "an excellent man," but who he claims he "will love absolutely even if you are not" (73) vs. his relationship with his namesake, John Ames Boughton - old Boughton's "Prodigal Son" and the godson John once claimed he "was never able to warm to" (188). What might account for John's ability to forgive one son of anything versus his struggle to forgive the other for anything? In what way is John's history with his brother, father, and grandfather affecting these present-day relationships?

Human Nature

The consistency of human nature becomes a core question in the novel's second half. At one point in the novel (pg. 151-153) Jack forces the question of whether or not a person can ever really change, leading John to admit that he believes a person can change their behaviors, but never his essential nature. John's wife disagrees, saying "A person can change. Everything can change." So, what do you think? Can we ever really change our natures? Did Jack change? What about John? What might account for John's opinion on this issue vs. his wife's?

Additionally, how does this question of the changeability of a person's nature affect another major theme in this novel: Forgiveness?

Symbolism

Although I noticed several symbols working in Gilead, it struck me that the most dominant one was water - baptismal water, rainwater, water from a sprinkler, tears, lakes, etc.

In particular, three passages spring to mind: the story of the slave tunnel that collapsed and turned into a lake (58-63), which is then followed with John's observance of his son playing in a sprinkler (63), which is followed with the story of how John's mother washed his grandfather's shirts (80-81). How does water operate on a symbolic level in this story? How might it connect to some of the novel's larger themes?

Locations

In the Bible, Gilead became the home of one of the twelve tribes of Israel, and thus a safe haven for those who were "lost in the wilderness." In what way is this an appropriate title for this town? For this novel? How does Kansas (and the story of John's abolitionist grandfather) factor in?

Misc.

Since an argument can be made that this novel is really a long character study, I'm curious what everyone thought of the narrator. He's old and wise, but also clearly flawed. What do you make of his flaws? Are they forgivable? Did he resolve them?

What of his tendency to illustrate his points with religion - did John come off as too "preachy" to you?

What about the role of religion in this book? We're not an overly religious group of people, so I'm curious to what extent this may have affected your reading of the novel. Also, I sensed a very clear line drawn here between religion and faith. (And there's a question in there somewhere. I'm just not entirely sure yet what it is...)

What about the role of racism and slavery in this book?

What about the importance of names in Gilead - both namesakes and those characters who are never (or hardly ever) named?

We are so far ahead of Newsweek, we're behind them

I think it's interesting that in this week's edition of "Newsweek," the editors name our current novel Gilead one of the top 50 books to read now. Nice work, Maggie!

Gilead

Hello, friends. To those of you who have been faithful participants in our very special book club: thank you. I'm having a lot of fun reading and talking books with you, and I very much hope you feel the same.

My number has come up in the book selection process, and as I've previously stated I would like us to read Marilynne Robinson's Gilead. She's an author I've been meaning to get to for some time now, and I figured there's no better place to start than with the novel that earned her a Pulitzer.

Gilead is written in the form of a letter from John Ames, an aging Iowa preacher who believes his time is this world is running short, to his young son, a product of a late marriage. The New York Times describes it as "religious, somewhat essayistic and fiercely calm. Gilead is a beautiful work -- demanding, grave and lucid," and The Washington Post says it's "written in a prose so gravely measured and thoughtful, that one feels touched with grace just to read it." We've read a lot of different things so far in this club, but we've yet to read anything by a female author, nothing that could be classified as spiritual, nor anything that can safely be called "beautifully ruminative." I say it's time.

Random Notes

I thought that this was an enjoyable read, but still covered a serious topic. I found a more serious tone to this novel compared with some of Vonnegut's other novels, but maybe just because I was reading more critically than I sometimes do.

Symbolic Names

What does everyone think of the names? Campbell as American as the soup? Krapptauer=Crap Tower? What's the deal with "the Black Fueher of Harlem?"

Destiny vs. Choice

Is there a stronger argument for free will or free will? Which one wins? If Campbell had all of these events fall into his lap, was this his destiny? Did he "choose" free will in the end by hanging himself?

Innocent?

Even if the story were true, is Campbell really innocent? Are people who allow themselves to manipulated in such a way innocent of the crimes that they commit? Were the German citizens not guilty of the Holocaust in some way?

Hoax?

Are we supposed to think that this whole story is a hoax, somehow thought up by Campbell to prove his innocence? If not...is this a plausible story? Could there really be a vast conspiracy with the Americans, the Russians, and the Jews? Did Resi really fall in Love?