Spook Country revisted

When it was first published, I found the cover design and title 'Spook Country' a little perplexing. It seemed somehow un-Gibson, like the novel had been packaged as a mass-market spy thriller. I could only hope that this would lead more people to discover the depth of perspective that it offered. Of course, like so much of of Gibson's writing, I don't think I appreciated this depth at the time. It now seems even more prescient.

All the usual Gibson traits are there: near future-technology (this time 'locative' virtual reality - which could now be seen as both fore-runner of augmented reality and the new generation of VR); subcultures (art world, systema, free-running, BASE jumping) habitual drug use (benzos, coffee and broasted potatoes); enthralling story; profound insights and a cast of characters who effortlessly redefine cool.

There's also the sense of zeitgeist. Unlike previous trilogies, which reflect their time through projections of the future, Gibson has very intentionally rooted this series in the culture it was written. The use of present or near future technology in fiction is always going to timestamp your work. Here Gibson is explicit in this use - drawing on wi-fi, iPods, clam phones (soon to be made obselete by the smart phone) and specific brand names. As a result, with the series published between 2003 and 2010, he has documented one of the most rapid and significant decades of change in regard to our relationship with communications technology.

The point about brand names is important, Gibson was keen to stress when speaking in London at the publication of 'Zero History'. This codified language is central to our experience in the world of the early 21st century. Whereas his previous novels painted corporations as machivellian international powers (think 1990s anti-globalisation protests), the relationship here is more complex. It is personified in the charachter of Hubertus Bigend, the London-based Belgian marketing guru behind the mysterious Blue Ant and the one constant in all three books. Often the fixer and the enabler, he guides the achingly cool female lead characters down the rabbit hole of cutting edge cool in search of truth. And yet his motives are never clear. Through an R&D division with bottomless resources, he is ostensibly on the hunt for anything cool that he can co-opt into his marketing business to sell brands. In doing so he co-opts the female leads themselves, challenging them to question how far they want to sign themselves away to this seemingly benign, yet alarmingly omnipient, commercial entity. Sound familiar?