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Review: Snow Crash
Autor: Neal Stephenson Jahr: ISBN: 344223686X (dt.)
Wertung: 6 von 7 Es sehr gutes, besonders für Computer Freaks ein Muss.
Snowcrash ist eines meiner liebsten Cyberspace Bücher und liegt gleichauf mit der Neuromancer Trilogie von William Gibson. Von Beginn an merkt man - das Buch ist schnell, sehr schnell. Und es ist cool, was es zu einem ganz besonderen Vergnügen macht.
Der Roman spielt in der nahen Zukunft und nimmt einen gleich von Anfang an mit auf einen wilden Tripp, oder wann hat man schon mal von einem Pizzaservice gehört bei dem der Kurier getötet wird wenn er die Pizza nicht innerhalb der garantierten Zeit von 30 Minuten abliefert?
Wer sich nicht für Computer interessiert sollte lieber einen großen Bogen machen, es werden viele Fachbegriffe benutzt und Witze gemacht, die man nicht versteht - und gerade sie machen den großen Reiz aus. Allen anderen sei dieses Buch wärmstens empfohlen!
Romanauszug
The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallowed subcategory. He's got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books.
When they gave him the job, they gave him a gun. The deliverator never deals in cash, but someone might come after him anyway---might want his car, or his cargo. The gun is tiny, aero-styled, lightweight, the kind of gun a fashion designer would carry; it fires teensy darts that fly at five times the velocity of an SR-71 spy plane, and when you get done using it, you have to plug it into the cigarette lighter, because it runs on electricity.
The Deliverator never pulled that gun in anger, or in fear. He pulled it once in Gila Highlands. Some punks in Gila Highlands, a fancy burbclave, wanted themselves a delivery, but they didn't want to pay for it. Thought they would impress the Deliverator with a baseball bat. The Deliverator took out his gun, centered its laser doohickey on that poised Louisville Slugger, fired it. The recoil was immense, as though the waepon had blown up in his hand. The middle third of the baseball bat turned into a column of burning sawdust accelerating in all directions like a bursting star. Punk ended up holding this bat handle with a milky smoke pouring out the end. Stupid look on his face. Didn't get nothing but trouble from the Deliverator.