I remember the first times I read Neuromancer and Mona Lisa Overdrive. Or, at least, I seem to remember them. The memory places me in the middle of summer, up in my old bedroom which hangs out over my mom's driveway. The windows are open and the fan is struggling to move the hot, soupy air around the room. The prose, though, was cool, whisking me away to Chiba City, the Sprawl, and Freeside.
Reading The Windup Girl reminded me a good bit of my first read of those Gibson novels, but there's one significant difference: this feels like a winter book. While Gibson's writing has a hard, cold edge which evokes the hardboiled detective genre, Paolo Bacigalupi's prose is humid and his world opaque, a dense hazy world centered in Bangkok of the near-future. However, regardless of whether you've ever been to Thailand, you'll spend the first hundred or so pages trying to figure what on Earth the novel is to be about. The plot begins at the end of Chapter Eight. Prior to that it's an exercise in hacking your way through a jungle of prose, trying to orient yourself in the complex setting, and frankly, it's not the easiest book to get into. It's plenty good, don't get me wrong, but you do have to work at it a bit.
Once there, you're immersed in a post-oil, nearly post-carbon fuel world, a world at the mercy of multinational agribusiness, whose genetically modified crops are intellectual property to be pirated by genehackers, to be resisted by the Thai government, and whose engineered plagues are designed to kill native crops, creating new customers for engineered food in the wake of bioterrorism and famine. Motive power is provided by humans and GMO beasts of burden on the ground, by sails across the oceans (in trimaran clipper ships), or by dirigibles in the air. Special springs are used to store energy and can provide limited amounts of locomotion. One character speaks of his grandparents, who could not make the journey from suburbia to city center following the oil collapse, which is known in Bacigalupi's world as the Contraction. Several generations have passed since that initial shock, and the world has reformatted itself into a calorie-based economy, one that some Thais are desperately trying to keep at bay. Mercifully, the world is presented matter-of-factly and not dogmatically.
From that kernel the book spins outward, simultaneously a book about an expatriate "calorie man" (with more than a touch of The Quiet American about it), palace intrigue and intra-governmental agency turf wars, and the windup girl Emiko, a beautiful creature genetically engineered in Japan for servitude and pleasure. Abandoned in Bangkok by her previous owner, Emiko seeks freedom beyond the seawalls of Bangkok, but as a windup she's contraband, one bad step away from being mulched by the Environment Ministry or slaughtered in the street by nearly anyone. The world is dystopian, but in a much hazier, hotter, and humid way than usually encountered. In this world, ice is a luxury, ironically one which a luxury item like the windup girl needs for survival. You'll find yourself seeking a cool place to read as you press on through the story. If you're into science fiction, which a good number of Citizens appear to be, it will be worth your while to check this book out. Pick it up from the library, though, lest it not grab you before you make it through those first hundred pages.
What are you reading?
