“Facebook can try and design the metaverse all they want, but the technology isn’t there yet and they can’t even draw legs.” Ok sure, that’s all true, but what the fuck is the metaverse supposed to be in the first place?
Snow Crash. I came upon it first by mere chance after a friend had mentioned it. I briefly glanced at the synopsis and only one thought took over my mind at that moment: “Holy shit, Nakazawa ripped off Snow Crash and wrote I/O.” Honestly, I don’t really blame myself for thinking that given that a lot of the worldbuilding elements seemed very similar, but this proved to be a crucial mistake. For nearly a year I set myself expectations that this novel would be the near the level of that beloved visual novel.
Once I finally picked up the book, a nearly 35 Canadian dollar hardcover with a 30% off holiday discount, using a gift card that I received after one of the most chance happenings and biggest acts of kindness that I will ever chance upon, the thirteenth anniversary edition was in my hands, a book I fated to be etched into my heart and forever stored in my bookshelf until I died. I opened it for the first time fifteen minutes ‘til six in the evening; the sun had long gone since fallen, though it was never visible anyway. Cold winter clouds had covered it ever since I awoke that morning; a direct scripture from God telling me to stay inside. Unfortunate for Him, however, nothing energizes me more. Sunny days are today a mere farce; they are only used for telling people to go outside rather than being the indicator of the availability of the outside. All the entertainment in a landlocked North American city such as this one is housed indoors, unless you’re brave enough to challenge the bourgeoisie sewage-infested waters of the river that runs through it. Two rundown malls, two overpriced trashy nightclubs, and one mall-cum-theater is all you have. And out of all movies I could’ve chosen, I chose what could only be described as a pretentious Oscar-bait waste of time. Thankfully it was over rather quickly, but unfortunately for me even the little time making the quick purchase of the book in question made me miss the bus.
This wouldn’t have normally been a problem, as the buses run every thirty minutes except for Saturdays. It was Saturday.
An hour sat on a windowsill with nothing but the low humming of the ATMs behind me and the inconsistent pitter-patter of the rain as it constantly chaotically shifted from light snow to light rain. I opened Snow Crash and fully immersed myself.
But frankly, I just couldn’t. The first chapter immediately started with some of the most edgy narration I had read in recent memory. It was corny, and took some getting used to, and while endearing to some, I couldn’t get into it without internally feeling distaste. For all that the book is worth in terms of influence, and for what genres it supposedly captures, Snow Crash is, by all means, a glorified young adult novel. For the sake of clarity, this is fully derogatory.
At this point, I had to close the novel. Whether it was because my internal clock had realized the bus was coming soon or because the novel had left me so speechless in its initial chapter, I do not know. The entire ride home, a whopping 20 minutes, was spent messaging a long-time friend who was also reading the novel but was further along than I was.
“It’s satire on the cyberpunk, it was a popular thing when the novel came out. Don’t take it too seriously.”
I arrived home and undressed; the room much chillier than the hallway. I had left the door closed because of some nonexistent security issue, causing my own frigid demise. I slipped under my covers and took out Snow Crash again. Book in hand, I refused to open it again, staring at my broken expectations as if they were shards of glass, stabbing me under my comforter. Slowly, I took them out one by one, knowing that if I opened this book without removing them, they’d only continue to dig into me further the more I read.
The rest of the book followed much more of the same. I was only able to keep reading because I had refocused my perspective; knowing that this was a more satirical take on cyberpunk, it felt worthless to focus on the technical details of the story. But at the same time, it was difficult to ascertain what parts of the narrative Neal Stephenson wanted me take seriously, and which parts he wrote as satire. The worldbuilding, for example, seemed so disconnected and sporadic. Getting a full picture of this post-hyperinflation America seemed almost impossible as he failed to describe specific locations, the distances of the territories, or even the exact specifics within them. Stephenson wanted to give the reader a vague idea/description of these territories so they can stereotype them however they please. Throw the reader a name like “Mr. Lee’s Greater Hong Kong” and make them assume it’s just “Chinese stuff” without regarding the subculture within the community, the differences between actual Hong Kong, endless questions about how the future has affected this culture and space, etc. etc. etc. Obviously, this was “satire”. But when it becomes part of the main plot, does it stay satire? How am I supposed to take the plot seriously when Mr. Lee himself exists and is an actual person? Forget Mr. Lee, this happens to nearly everything. The Metaverse? Still barely any idea on what it’s supposed to be, and it was why I knew about the book in the first place. It was probably a very interesting idea at the time, but it’s not nearly developed enough to be worth a damn. Like everything else, it gets vague descriptions and is mostly used as a plot device. Any specifics are only specified to be used as plot device.
If Snow Crash is satire,
then Snow Crash is a bad satire.
If Snow Crash is serious,
then it’s just not that good.
And this juxtaposition continued until the book ended. I could go on about the problems of the narrative and writing itself (like how for the whole book a fifteen-year-old is constantly sexualized, leading up to a full-blown detailed sex scene between her and a grown man), but overall, when you have this massive of a tonal issue that it does not stop until the very last word of the book, and is stuck to every part of the plot, characters, and worldbuilding, then specific analysis is no longer necessary. It just becomes the problem and the only problem. At the very least, I can give Snow Crash credit for staving off my boredom in its clearly researched and well-thought out Sumerian connections.
So, I closed the book for the last time, likely in the exact same position as I had restarted it days prior. My expectations had not just been blown into pieces, but thoroughly disintegrated into a fine, inoffensive dust. Knowing that this would stay in my bookshelf for years was no longer a source of endearment and love but a reminder of bad financial decisions that I would likely continue to make into the future. But it a love lost is a love strengthened. I/O has been one of my favourite visual novels ever since I read it, and the more I think about it the more I believe it may be the favourite. Discovering Snow Crash could’ve been the inception of it excited me, as this book could’ve been as good or even better, but knowing that I/O really was original makes me appreciate it as a piece even more. An I/O reread is in order for sure, but I’ll likely never touch Snow Crash again lest it be to sell it off to some other unfortunate sucker.
