Mar 20 2008
Wordpress Launched.
Hopefully everything is working properly. Send me an email if anything looks out of whack. Unless of course you can’t post comments …
I have a couple of good articles I’ve been saving up until the redesign and launch was up. Icepaddle 2008 and Santa Cruz Kayak Surfing.
Feb 28 2008
Ten years ago today, Laura and I were married. It was the warmest day on record for February in Michigan. I like to think the sun defeated winter for us, and whether by happy accident or twist of fate that sunshine in winter (I try not to think of it as global warming) has been our blessing. For all who have witnessed it, it is a hot intemperate love that riots against the season, against all advice and counsel, against all rational thought, and one that can both repel with it’s heat, and pull you in with its gravity. Because of this giant ball of gas, (my wife can attest to this) it will burn immemorial, perhaps not as a lesson to others as the best way, but it is our way; to be both wild and constant in the face of adversity.
My love for Laura in this leap year can now have its day twice in a row in California.
When we were married, we had no money, no place to live, and a young son. Some folks start out with a lot less, we had good family and much support in those early years, so in some ways, this day is as much for them as it is for us. Hopefully we can give back in the years to come while we have more in the material wealth and youth.
For Laura, (my laura not Petrarch’s Laura)
Petrarch
O blessed Sun! that sole sweet leaf I love,
First loved by thee, in its fair seat, alone,
Bloometh without a peer, since from above
To Adam first our shining ill was shown.
Pause we to look on her! Although to stay
Thy course I pray thee, yet thy beams retire;
Their shades the mountains fling, and parting day
Parts me from all I most on earth desire.
The shadows from yon gentle heights that fall,
Where sparkles my sweet fire, where brightly grew
That stately laurel from a sucker small,
Increasing, as I speak, hide from my view
The beauteous landscape and the blessed scene,
Where dwells my true heart with its only queen.
Feb 12 2008
Well I am certainly not as prolific as Derrick, or Wenley, but I hope I make up for it with a quality of content. Or maybe its just in the ardent and eloquent phrases I use. Hmmm… NOT!
Looking back over the last couple of years I have been shocked at the number of blogs. The number of websites on paddling, and the number of folks out there doing daring trips and expeditions. Certainly I would like to be out there doing that too. Balance is a hard thing to find. I trust that my adventuring life is not over by a long shot. I have aimed to write here about what I see as goals and ambitions. I’ve often written about what I value, and why I spend so much time running, kayaking, skiing, and cycling.
It’s funny I think my wife thought that kayaking would be a fad for me, something I would get over. That certainly hasn’t happened. My love for being on, in or under water has only deepened as the years have gone on. I am certainly less zealous in my evangelism towards sea kayaking than I used to be. And my affection for surfing has grown exponentially.
Why I do it, and why I write about it is more of a navel gazing operation than I am accustomed to performing. The long answer is that testing your limits doesn’t have to be an all or nothing event. You don’t have to go on a three month expedition to the Antarctic sea to test yourself. Each person, each life, is its own expedition/marathon/cyclocross race etc. In fact I would credit someone who balances wife, house payment, children, with marathons, triathlons, short sea kayaking trips with just as much guts and endurance as someone who does
a three month circumnavigation of a god forsaken island with no wife or children. The balancing act in and of itself is worthy of praise. Sometimes my teeter-totter gets out of whack, and I am lucky to have a wife who understands, and will encourage me to get the other leg back on my end to hold it down.
I think really this website is not so much about the thrills and the pain, or the adventures as it is about the balancing act.
People in the office give me that look, (maybe you know the one) whenever I am suited up to run at lunch. They see the tights, the hat, the jacket and the gloves, and think “why on earth would he do this when it is 7 degrees out?” When those of us who are active think, “oh man this is gonna hurt, but I gotta do it.”
In short maybe the reason is…
If a short, goofy, balding mid-western boy with a wife and two young kids can run marathons/cyclocross/swim (ok I sort of suck)/kayak-surf and, ski anyone can do it…
Feb 12 2008
A good friend of mine told me yesterday that after six months of being seizure free with epilepsy he had another seizure. Essentially revoking his license to drive, his freedom, and his ability to paddle. This really wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t already been through this cycle once before.
No one wants to hear the caged bird squawk. It is unpleasant, they sound like dusty old flatulence. However if I squawk for him he seems like a noble, injured creature deserving of our encouragement.
So with this in mind, I give you D. H. Lawrence:
Self Pity
I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.
I hope he is on the mend soon, and out on the water.
Feb 06 2008
Oddly enough the opening introduction of this massive volume on the seemingly inexhaustible topic of Gaius Julius Caesar was one of the best parts. This doesn’t detract from the excellent work of Adrian Goldsworthy. Historical parallels are supposed to be deplorable, and you can’t just lay one set of circumstances over another and say look it’s the same! However, Goldsworthy’s introduction begins by laying out the world Caesar was born into and lived in. His world, though removed by 2000 + years, doesn’t sound drastically different from ours.
The Roman system of government allowed senators, magistrates, consuls, and other members of the elected body to receive clients who would essentially pay the elected official to either introduce legislation, or influence a vote on an piece of legislation(now-a-days called a bribe). This was for the most part done in the open, but on the down low so to speak. This system also allowed for elections to be manipulated in the same way. Although in the Roman system the candidate often bribed the constituency as well. They also took bribes from influential prospective clients to make wider dispensation to the general voting public. So the bribing was two way. The widening rift between the richest senators and the poorest senators made it increasingly difficult for a young man to consider a political career without graft. As election season is now on full bore in the US, it is a painful reminder of the present. Those without patrician funds to run for an election are not really competitive.
The Roman Empire around 100 BC when Caesar was born was also under serious financial stress. It’s economy could not support all the freed men and women it had within Italy. Slave labor was causing unemployment to sky rocket. Money turned in from tax revenue was not supporting the system. To alleviate this problem the Senate, Consuls and Proconsuls would allow governors of provinces to essentially wage war against any territory they thought they could conquer. War was essentially a cash generating mechanism for the empire. It brought home booty, kept the army out of Italy, using foreign resources, and sending home gold, silver, and slaves for sale. When the republic was running low on cash they actually looked at surrounding territories and evaluated how much booty they could bring home if they invaded and conquered. Based on our problems in Iraq, I wonder if our oil problems were evaluated in the same way prior to the invasion.
This is not a direct parallel obviously. We are spending billions on the war in Iraq, our soldiers are not eating off of the Iraqi dime, they are eating off of the American tax payers’ dollar. The American government’s real reason to invade Iraq will likely remain secret until the Freedom of Information act makes it possible for us to see all of the documentation. The reasons the public were given were obviously less than factual.
Caesar as he is painted in the book, is not a moral person. Which is what is really interesting about the book. Often biographies try to give some sort of moral compass for a person’s actions no matter how questionable. Goldsworthy continually reminds the reader about the difference in world view the Roman aristocracy, and particularly the Roman male had towards his actions. Honor was more important than morality, a man’s auctoritas was his influence and how his fellow man perceived him. If he was respected, well thought of, even feared, he was said to be a great man. Morality simply wasn’t a factor. All of Caesar’s actions from the time he was a young man until he marched into Italy at the head of his legions to seize power from Pompey and the senate was a move to gain respect and power. None of it had anything to do with moral decisions about what was best for the republic.
If there are two lessons to take away from Caesar; it is leadership, and how to take risks. He built up a reputation with his men from the beginning that he would fight with them at the front of the line. He often risked everything on big gambles. He was often caught outnumbered in Gaul and rather than run, he would stake everything on a pitched battle. Even after some fairly questionable moves, such as invading Britain with a very small force, his men recognized his ability to calculate risk and determine the best course of action. Some might even call it luck. However his ambition seemed to soar him to greater and greater heights.
Some of the highlights from the book where Goldsworthy appears to be at his best, is the descriptions of the rebellion in Gaul. When Vercengetorix organizes a full tribal rebellion against the Roman occupation, Caesar is caught unaware. He loses the initiative and is in a defensive posture, (not his best trait). He is in a precarious position and only the loyalty of his men saves him. However once the initiative is regained, the final battle between the Gaulish tribes and the Roman legions reaches its apex at the siege of Alesia. Not even J.R.R. Tolkien could have dreamed up a double encirclement siege. (Perhaps he just outright stole it?)
The Romans dug themselves in and besieged the beleaguered Gauls in their French fortress town of Alesia, only to themselves be encircled by Vercengetorix’s reinforcements. Goldsworthy shines in these moments and even at the hefty 500 plus page mark it is well worth the read.
Caesar’s own undoing it seems may have been one of his virtues. Unlike the previous dictator Cato, Caesar attempted to show clemency to his enemies. Cato had made several bloodthirsty purges of his detractors, enemies, and enemies relatives in his tenure as dictator after the previous civil war. During the civil war, that raged across Italy, Greece, and Africa, Caeasar allowed the men who fought against him to throw down their arms and embrace him as a friend. Marcus Junius Brutus was his biggest mistake. When Caesar allowed him back in the fold of Roman life, he seized the opportunity and used all of his patrician influence to assassinate Caesar. Apparently frenemy was not a term he knew.
Goldsworthy’s notable quote at the epilogue of the book captures the reason why Caesar still gets caught in the net of our imagination, “It is hardly possible to imagine how his life could have been more dramatic.”
While Caesar’s failure as a politician is the dramatic denouement of the book and his life, his military victories are the zenith of his achievements and ultimately what catapulted him into his position of power. And this is clearly where Goldsworthy spent most of his energy in writing and research.
Jan 07 2008
Stanley Kubrick once said that the last uncharted territory of human nature was marriage. What makes one work for a lifetime? So often because of proximity, domesticity breeds contempt in us as marital creatures. We often forget how much we wanted this from the outside. I often wonder if relationships would be better if we didn’t live in the same space all the time. Which is why a lot of folks end up divorced I guess. Maybe the long kayaking trips is what makes my marriage work? A break from the domesticity is often a good thing. The closeness to weakness, character faults, and uglier sides, (any side for me) sometimes makes it hard to respect the other person. Unless there is love. Without it you get nowhere.
Which is why this Songs:Ohia tune should be every married man’s mantra.
departure and worry
still shakes me
resistance failed
and friendship failed
as lovers we did not fail
brown eyes your pulse is getting hotter
brown eyes your pulse is getting quicker
quote Captain Badass,
” I am setting your heart on fire
so when you leave me
i will burn on in your soul”.
you won’t have to think twice
if it’s love you will know
we get no second chance in this life
so a hot pulse is alright
so a quick pulse is alright
so a hot kiss is alright
so a long kiss is alright
so a long night is alright
and all night is alright
there ain’t no contest
against the final day
we’ll rise above us either way
we’re either greeted
by life or its reverse
then each day greeted
by fortune or its reverse
will you stand up for your one chance
will you stand up for love
we get no second chance in this life
you won’t have to think twice if its love
you will know
Nov 12 2007
I was reading an interview on Pitchfork (sorry Alex I can’t help myself, some folks read People Magazine, I read Pitchfork)- where in an interview with PJ Harvey the interviewer said that music didn’t mean as much to him now as it did when he was 17. I actually paused on that one. I felt worried for a moment that this might be true for me. Then I realized, naaa, my tastes might have changed subtly, but I probably depend on music more now than I did when I was 17. Like a lot of 17 year old disaffected youth, I might have used music as part of my identity. I am this sort of person because I listen to this type of music. Or was I that sort of person because I liked that sort of music? It’s really a semantic or theologic question. Was there light and then god, or was there light because of god?
Back then the question was how punk rock could you be? How many obscure 7” singles could you own from bands that were together for less than a year. In some cases those bands are still really cool, and the music is really good. But I have to say I’ve gotten out my Beatles Revolver, my Johnny Cash, my U2 albums a lot more often than Slint’s Spiderland LP. This is not a knock against Slint, but more to say that obscurity for the sake of obscurity is for me becoming more and more irrelevant. I listen to music almost all day now at work, (headphones are on as we speak) and music serves so many purposes I couldn’t even list all of them.
Having been through the dark times when getting a babysitter was hard, money was tight, and life generally prevented us from going out very often, we’ve only now started to squeak back out a bit. This week was unusual in that we saw two concerts in one week. I haven’t done that since college. I used to go see some punk band in somebody’s basement twice a week in college. But now it’s unheard of to be entertained so much in one week. Broken Social Scene and Band of Horses in one week made me feel 20 again. Unfortunately there were some 20 year olds next to me to keep it real. I am balder, crankier, and smarter than most twenty year olds.
Tyler Ramsey the guitarist for Band of Horses opened the show. He had a delicate finger picking style of guitar playing, and some nice songs. His voice was delicate and sort of hovered between singing full out and speaking which was pretty complimentary to what he was playing. He has an album coming out in January of 2008, A Long Dream About Swimming Across the Sea.
The Drones from Australia played next. This four piece walked out, turned everything up to eleven and started wailing. Their songs had that type of quiet loud quiet loud dynamic, with a bit of the swamp rock, death loving, I’ll screw your sister when you’re not looking type of mojo going on. Some of the songs were over the eight minute mark, and their singer really gave it his all. It was fun to watch. Gabriel would have enjoyed it I think.
Band of Horses came last. Their first song, Monsters from Everything all the Time minus the banjos was belted out with style. I love the following lines from Monsters,
a tree for all these problems
they can find us for the moment
then for all past efforts
there buried deep beneath
our hearts and somewhere in our stomachs
and hey, transform all others
when awful people they surround you
well hey, they just like monsters
they come to feed on us
giant little animals for us
The next couple of songs were also from the debut album, but were plagued by feedback from the vocal microphone. Everything seemed sorted out by the time the band played Is There a Ghost . The full band sound behind this short, but full on driving number had the crowd on its feet. The drumming was solid and forceful backed by a three guitars bass and organ lineup.
The General Specific an upbeat southern church stomper of a tune was dead on, if not better than the albun backed by the crowd clapping, and good piano. I’ve unfortunately been seen all over town clapping along to the downbeat of this song, and keening along in my poor falsetto while running. While this is my new favorite tune, if you see me in Kalamazoo singing along to this in running tights at night, do not film me.
If your trials end, are really getting you down
We had a close call, I didn’t even see it, then another one, I hardly believed it at all.
What the writers say, it means shit to me now.
Plants and animals, we’re on a bender when it’s 80 degrees, the end of December was coming on,
Only for you and me.
When the showing up ends, going back to the south, where hungry necks that I know, and runnin’
A blender in a lightning storm, disguised as a blessing I’m sure.
Knowing up here, there comes a fork in the road, pants have gotta go, we’re on an island on
The fourth of July, looks like the tide is going home.
In time I’d find a little way to your heart, down to the general store for nothing specific,
Gonna wash my bones in the Atlantic shore – only for you and me
My dead center front row spot in the crowd began to be challenged by a group of twenty-somethings who talked through all the songs, used blackberry’s and whoo-hooed at bizarre moments. I was ready to throttle them by the end of the next few songs. One of them tried to cut in between me and the stage with drinks in her hand in the middle of a song and I politely stepped in front of her so she had to go behind me. She promptly started talking again, and then whipped out her blackberry to text someone. She paid her ticket price too. I suppose she had the right to e-mail, talk, and whoo hoo her way through the show, but lord how I wanted to tell her to shut the f#$k up, snatch her blackberry out of her hand, crush it under my heel. I think it’s official, I’ve gotten to be that cranky old-fart at the concert that wants to parent the twenty-somethings rather than date them.
By the time the band got to Funeral, the twenty-somethings had thankfully either left or gotten with the program. Funeral is probably the signature tune from Band of Horses, and they nailed it, the sound was full, with the whole band digging in, making it bigger and more dramatic than the record.
Having listened to this song for over a year on long runs, I was waiting with eager anticipation to see if they would play this tune. I had my rough period in 2005 with four funerals of people I knew well, my cousin Scott Lussier, Grandma Field, Jason Wagner, and my Grandma Reimer, the song for whatever it means about death, gave me something. I don’t think it needs to be said, much like the white dog in the snow post This is what music does best. Perhaps art in general does this too. The expression of something we know inherently, but is never spoken.For what little material reward there is in making art the spiritual rewards seem tangible to me. Americans I think sometimes are too focused on practical matters. We appreciate the things that sustain life, but give very little value to things that enhance life. We take little time for good food, poetry, music, thoughtful films, novels, or any sort of visual art because these things unfortunately take some thought to process. And we, as a society can’t be bothered to think about our entertainment. As sure as the day is long without these things, music, novels, poetry, painting, I would never have made it out of the eleventh grade, and I certainly would never have made it to 2007. Each day is brighter because of things like music. There is always plenty to mope about, and I am sure darker times might be ahead. But this week because of these two shows was an upswing back towards happier times.
Nov 06 2007
In 2004 Hollywood actor and uber boy toy Ewan (pronounced you-an) MacGregor otherwise known to the general public as Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his fellow actor and best mate Charlie Boorman set upon riding around the world by Motorcycle. While I generally think motorized transport is for pansies, the idea of a cross continental journey on the back of bike struck me as an evocative idea. My father recommended this movie to me ages ago and I just never got around to it.
Ewan and Charlie share a lifelong passion with motorcycles something I at least understand a little. They decided they would ride all the way from the UK through western Europe, (France, Belgium Germany, Czech Republic, Slovakia,) to the Ukraine, through a little bit of Russia almost all the way through Kazahkstan, through another little part of Russia again, and then into Mongolia, and then back into Russia again along the Road of Bones, and then over to North America by plane, down through Alaska, into Canada and then down through Montana, the Dakotas to New York, in total some 20,000 miles.
The beginning of the journey is the most difficult to watch. Ewan and Charlie attempt to get sponsored by an Austrian Motorbike company called KTM. KTM sends out a consultant who informs them that the Road of Bones section in Siberia may defeat them. KTM renegs on their offer of sponsorship and the pair are pretty despondent. Ewan thankfully confesses a little sheepishly that maybe they are behaving like petulant asses. He admits that expecting to receive free motorbikes for a trip they want to do is a little silly. Who else would expect this kind of treatment. In fact though it wasn’t mentioned, the KTM consultant did part of the trip on a bike he paid for himself.
I thought about this in terms of the sea kayaking world. I think sponsorship is a great thing. But if you wouldn’t be willing to do the trip on your own without a free kayak or free gear, did you really want to do it anyway? Granted if you could get a free kayak/motorcycle that would help with your trip why wouldn’t you? But should you expect anything? That’s another story.
I found it amusing, but not surprising that the high spirits and the exuberance lasted as long as the tarmac did. Ewan and Charlie became quite despondent when the road turned to trail. The struggle to remain on two wheels was pretty epic. Everytime one of the BMW bikes went over, everybody had to pitch in and help the rider get up again. Due to the extreme weight of the bike lifting it solo appeared to be impossible.
Once Charlie and Ewan made it to Mongolia the real pain began. But so did the beauty. It seemed they were surrounded by endless plains, prairie, mountains, and river valleys. The Mongolians they encountered seemed genuinely curious and interested in the pair. I kept wondering if a bike tour would be crazy in that area of the world. Jon Turk and his daughter passed through part of Mongolia on their Altai tour. On their blog, I read a lot about pushing bikes and running out of water. Our erstwhile hollywood stars had a support vehicle that the hardy Jon Turk could not afford. I know it’s not apples to apples here, but it just furthers a deep, deeeeep respect for Jon Turk.
The ups and downs of long trips can be like drug addiction, the ups are so up you become giddy, and the downs are so low you become almost suicidal. Separated from home and family for months on end, hardship and suffering are not passing moments, but a daily reality. The only thing that keeps you going is the tunnel vision of the finish line, and your friends. Certainly many people will never understand this. When I saw Charlie and Ewan hit tarmac after 600 miles of hard off-road riding in Mongolia and they actually laid down and kissed it, I completely got it. Having paddled into 20 knot headwinds for three days while towing a paddler between islands has left me with an appreciation for the sudden twist of fate that puts the wind at your back. When you coast for 20 miles with a twenty knot tailwind you know what it is to see God after feeling forsaken.
Ultimatley Charlie and Ewan toughened up quite a bit and when the riding became ludicrously hard, they just focused on minigoals, and began to laugh at how silly they were for imagining they could fly through the miles and miles of offroad riding.
I am not a celebrity worshiper by a long shot, but I do respect folks who achieve something tangible. For the riding through Asia and Russia’s Road of Bones I salute the Long Way Round. It seems I am also on the cusp of something monumental too. When I can say more I will. You only live once, you may as well chase the dream right.
Nov 06 2007
Snotty frozen rain and forty mile an hour winds buffeted me on my morning commute to work. The full winter commuting regalia made it’s first appearance. I think I still need some neoprene booties for my bike shoes. But the fenders and the Bianchi San Jose seem to be holding tight. Except the bloody seat post. I think the shop lubed the frame to preserve it during assembly. But unfortunately this means that the seat post will not stay put. It slides side to side and then eventually slides down about two inches. It’s driving me mad!
I made the mistake of looking out at the lake.
Today is a day where the gulls tuck close to the water’s edge. When the surge of the water climbs the beach, they take silly little steps back in near human surprise. If caught unaware when the storm rushes up the sand, the birds take flight with motionless wings. Their rigid wings tilt back and forth catching gusts. When you look out over the water, there is a jagged line of breakers that stretches as far as the eye can see, like an unending row of spilling sharks teeth. The wind whistles madly through the paddle shaft. Anything you put down blows down the beach. Launching and then breaking out is a herculean if not impossible task. Once out maybe you catch a ride, or maybe a ride catches you.
Having seen these waves first hand, I can now say this is nigh on surf-able.
Thursday is supposed to be a clean 4-7 foot day.
Oct 10 2007
Out of all of William Gibson’s Novels, Spook Country is the least evocative. A lot of Gibson’s now all too common critics read and loved Neuromancer for its impenetrable descriptions of the ephemeral and then unknowable internet, (or cyberspace), the vague chic of apathetic criminal characters, and the all too potent tincture of drugs, sex, and violence.
I was certainly among the throng of disaffected youth who read and loved the early books when I was fifteen, had a punk rock hair-do, wore a black trench coat and wanted to punch authority figures. Certainly because of William Gibson I became more literate. But I was not among the hordes of disappointed cyberpunks who’ve been gravely disappointed by Gibson’s move towards more mainstream fiction; I am merely disappointed in the lack of narrative cohesion, snappy dialog, and pointed cultural observations.
Pattern Recognition was a terrific novel. It was full of good characters, good dialog, and the Gibsonian specialty- the culture technology intersection. Gibson’s knack is recognizing where technology and culture have created something unique. Where as with his novels previous to Pattern Recognition he was writing in what he dubbed as speculative fiction, we would call it science-fiction. He moved into the present with Pattern Recognition and is firmly fixed there for Spook Country as well. The move to the present did not jar or upset me with Pattern Recognition.
Cayce Pollard and her allergic reactions to poor branding was in complete synch with where we were at as a culture. Globalization, marketing, brand recognition, and the interference or inevitability of anything and everything become merchandise or marketable spoke to me. I wish I’d thought of the character with the allergic reaction to Tommy Hilfiger first. But he also spookily worked in 9/11 in a way that did not seem hokey, or overworked. A character walked into the tower, and a ghost walked out to haunt Cayce. It was subtle and effective. Cayce’s zen statement to ward off bad mojo has stuck with me since reading the novel, “he took a duck in the face at 200 knots.” Also no one can ever forget, L-O-M-B-A-R-D. Loads of money but a real dickhead, which referred to Hubertus Bigend. Hubertus was a gift of a character, sinister in all the ways one might imagine a real person to be, but with a pearly white Tom Cruise smile.
I was pleasantly surprised by Bigend’s triumphant Belgian return. However the three intertwined narratives of Tito, Hollis Henry, and Milgrim don’t really compliment or contrast each other. The whole novel never really gels. We do have a few good moments where Gibson makes us chuckle at his cleverness. But his characters don’t pop, the narrative never reaches that point where the book created an inner moment for me the way his other books have. This failure is probably due to a few things. The first is not the lack of cyberpunkness, but the fact that the author’s knack of finding the precise moment to comment on a unique cultural technological nodal point (to use the Gibson term for a paradigm shift) was missing. The use of the i-pod as a storage device was unsurprising and commonplace. The idea that art could be locative and part of blended reality was also sort of commonplace and unsurprising. I never got that spooked feeling about seeing River Phoenix’s ghostly corpse outside the viper room. And for anyone who has used google maps street view, it just wouldn’t surprise the reader.
His commentary on the finances of the Iraq war and the intelligence community are also interesting, but hardly earth shattering.
Milgrim as a Junkie seemed to be purely a passenger for the novel and a vehicle for Brown, who was far more interesting as a character but lacked the definition the reader wished to see. His sermonizing was if anything was “under the top” and could have acted as more of a counter point to the “old man” to act as yin-and-yang, but alas this never developed.
Tito and Bobby Chombo were both alas pale comparisons to Bobby from Count Zero, or the Vat Grown Ninja Assassin from Neuromancer.
Hollis seems to be more of an archetype from Gibson now. He seems to be developing a pattern for his female characters now where they are delicate and sensitive, slightly daring, but rely on an older wiser male for their insight into the world’s inner mechanics. For Pattern Recognition Cayce relied on the not quite film maker boyfriend, and Hollis seems to rely on Inchmale.
The reveal at the end of the novel, just didn’t offer the payoff for the effort spent reading through the three disparate narratives. And Bigend as a result of his inclusion somehow seemed less sinister and more banal.
Hopefully Gibson finds his stride again, providing he feels he’s lost it. Certainly this book is not representative of his other works. Idoru and Pattern Recognition are still two of my favorites.
Blog Feed