I'm in Texas at the moment, visiting my parents. It's not quite as warm down here as I would have liked but it's nice and sunny and I'm getting caught up on my reading. There are also many antiques (see below: an 80-dollar cookie jar in feline form).
Some of what I've been reading is rehashed cyberpunk SF. It's an interesting subgenre for its supposed outcast status and heavy reliance on particular ideas and aesthetics, almost like the noir detective stories of speculative fiction, and for its stubborn refusal to admit that it may be the most prescient subgenre of fiction in general. (Except for the whole VR thing. Oculus Rift notwithstanding, virtual reality just feels like a perpetually obsolete concept, though that may be lingering cyberpunk influence again. Big black goggles can make anyone look like an amateur datajack.) Further thoughts forthcoming.
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| The cookies. Place them within me. My emptiness will preserve them. |
Some of what I've been reading is rehashed cyberpunk SF. It's an interesting subgenre for its supposed outcast status and heavy reliance on particular ideas and aesthetics, almost like the noir detective stories of speculative fiction, and for its stubborn refusal to admit that it may be the most prescient subgenre of fiction in general. (Except for the whole VR thing. Oculus Rift notwithstanding, virtual reality just feels like a perpetually obsolete concept, though that may be lingering cyberpunk influence again. Big black goggles can make anyone look like an amateur datajack.) Further thoughts forthcoming.