Damien Walter, whose commentaries on science fiction I admire, proposes ten SF novels which belong on any list of The Hundred Best Novels Of The 21st Century (So Far). It is an interesting list, but I was surprised to see Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One among them. Walter observes:
Take a look at the world. It looks far more like RP1 than any other SF novel. The fact the author has limited self awareness and thinks the nightmare he depicts is keeeewl is another issue.
A striking point. The world of Ready Player One is a near-future of environmental and economic catastrophe in which people escape the misery of their lives through elaborate virtual reality games. Golden Age SFF writers would have given us heroes overthrowing this dystopia. Cyberpunks would have inverted that with antiheroes desperately navigating the horrors. Many SFF writers — and “literary” writers exercising the conceit — could have offered it as satire. These kinds of moves animate comparably prophetic worldbuilding in 20th century SFF from writers like John Stand On Zanzibar Brunner, Octavia Parable Of The Sower Butler, Bruce Distraction Sterling, or Neal Snow Crash Stephenson.
RP1 breaks from those traditions in treating its world as uninteresting, little more than an enabling conceit for the virtual environment where Cline really wants to focus. This disinterest in his own sensitive prophetic antennae is weird.
Cline wants to give us, instead, the least interesting way SFF dialogues with itself.
All genre works interact with the meta-text of other works; I consider this the defining quality of “genre”. When a western introduces a sheriff, a horror story introduces a vampire, or an SF story introduces a time machine, it takes advantage of reader expectations about how these work from other stories. This can provide storytelling convenience, saving a bit of exposition … or it can support much more powerful effects.
Walter explores a deep version of this in his long video-essay on Iain M. Banks’ Culture stories, which are bursting with general space opera tropes and allusions to deep cut specific works from the SFF “canon”. If one knows those sources, the Culture has fun playing with old favorite toys, but that is candy coating on its sharp critiques of ideas behind earlier works, its use of the depth behind those elements to add complexity to the stories’ themes, and more.
RP1 has a simpler, frothier project. It reflects a style exemplified by John Myers Myers’ 1949 novel Silverlock, a picaresque in which the protagonist stumbles into encounters with various characters from history, myth, and literature. The story does serve a theme — the titular protagonist grows into a better person through a very direct encounter with Literature, as when piggish Shandon Silverlock encounters Circe from The Odyssey — but the main thing is having fun going oh, I get it!
I do not see Cline attempting even Silverlock’s modest thematic payload. The Hey I Recognize That thrill is the whole thing. Its structure as a puzzle-box mystery-thriller — in which the reader “plays along” to see if they can decode the clues presented in the story before the characters do — is a cunning move to amp up the effect. Unlike an Agatha Christie mystery, the clues are not all part of the text; one must know all the stuff it references to connect the dots. To keep from losing the reader, RP1 goes wide rather than deep, as much pop as geeky, referencing movies, teevee, and games which it expects Generation X geeks to all know.
Credit where credit is due: Cline’s love for the material shines through, and the puzzles are pretty good. As I am a GenX geek, the first few chapters of RP1 tickled me. I put down RP1 at that point, disappointed that it offered nothing else, but I cannot not fault people who wanted more of that than I did.
The loose film adaptation delivers fun popcorn entertainment by borrowing this playbook. It exercises Spielbert’s gift for kinetic and fantastical filmmaking, uses more familiar references, simplifies the puzzles down to just enough to drive events, and is a bit ennobled by a subtle performance by Mark Rylance cast as the MacGuffin.
That’s all fine as far as it goes, but I find it weird and troubling that Cline’s box of popcorn produced such a sensation. I wish I could take innocent, adolescent joy in RP1’s story of a fan whose fascination with things I like enables him to fix the media environment he inhabits and win glory, fortune, and (of course) a hawt girlfriend along the way. But I cannot. I think we must see RP1 reflecting a broad pop-geekkultur movement which avoids grappling with the kinds of juicy, challenging ideas available in SFF, a movement which so prefers superficial entertainment & affirmation that it expresses hostility to anything else. Smarter people than me have extensively criticized the cultural politics lurking in the book, and its attitude has realworld consequences: the Gamergate movemement of geeks zealously “protecting” geekkultur hurt real people in real life.
A follow-up from Damien Walter:
Imagine a work of fiction written by a citizen of Oceania
who thinks Big Brother is keeeewel
and is a “fun read” in the way Nineteen Eighty Four never could be.
So, some folks questioned my selection of Ready Player One as a “great” book of the 21st century.
Some thoughts.
I really dislike RP1. I viscerally despise the entire construct of “geek culture” it panders to. To borrow a one liner from Gandhi, when asked what he thought of Western culture, “I think it would be a very good idea”
But. To think critically about a matter like the greatest SF of the 21st century means thinking beyond my own preferences.
I strongly suspect that Ernest Cline had no more serious intention writing RP1 than to 1) indulge all the nerdish things he likes and 2) make himself the UberNerd.
And he succeeded on both counts.
So the “greatness” of RP1 wasn’t intended by its author. But nonetheless, deliberately or not, Ernest Cline wrote the perfect primer on the postmodern dystopia that anyone who grew up in the 1980s or later was born into.
The horror of postmodernity expressed by Jean Baudrillard was that even our inner lives were no longer our own. Immersed in the mass media simulacra, our most precious memories are mere imprints of mass culture commodities.
Cline's obsessive presentation of 1980s “geek culture” icons — that he presents with zero irony — is nonetheless a very effective representation of the postmodern horror. There really are billions of us today imprinted, not with unique memories of reality, but with mass manufactured dreams of time travelling Deloreans.
Of course PKD and Gibson did this all much better. But Neuromancer is a book that will always be read by the punks and hackers who already get it.
Ready Player One is a book about the matrix
written by a man who, even if he escaped the matrix, would demand to be put back in
for the poor souls still trapped in the matrix.
I think that qualifies it for greatness. Of a kind.
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