What do you think?
Rate this book
Dead Girls, Dead Boys, Dead Things #1
Virus ginoide
I nuovi ricchi della Rivoluzione Informatica esigono giocattoli raffinati, quanto di meglio può eccitare la loro fantasia. E l'oggetto più richiesto sono le bambole meccaniche di Cartier della serie Eva Futura. Costruite a partire dal 2034, rappresentano la sintesi tra il mondo della fisica classica e quello submicroscopico della fisica quantistica. Ormai è chiaro, il cervello umano è diverso da qualsiasi intelligenza artificiale perché ha imparato a sfruttare gli effetti quantici. Non è più questione di componenti più o meno minuscoli, il segreto è quello di manipolare onde e particelle. L'obiettivo è di rendere hardware e software indivisibili, generando non tanto un'intelligenza di tipo umano, ma una coscienza robotizzata che possiede veri e propri poteri di "magia quantistica". Ma il prezzo da pagare è un contagio che ricombina il DNA secondo la struttura dei polimeri e dell'acciaio e trasforma ogni donna in una ginoide, una bambola artificiale, meccanica... come Primavera che, insieme al suo partner Ignatz Zwakh, ha scoperto qual è il vero piano di chi ha dichiarato guerra all'umanità.
228 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1992
8 people are currently reading
259 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
April 18, 2012
Dead Girls was a strange and worthwhile trip, a dropkick into an unappealing future Earth circa 2072 in which capitalism, triumphantly and gaudily strutting across the global stage, has conquered all-comers. The United States is the junior partner to a Japanese-led Pacific trading bloc, while Europe, flooded with refugees from the defunct Soviet Empire, has suffered from a catastrophic market-crash and the subsequent spreading of a plague that has affected its former number one export: AI-equipped gynoids. Apparently Europe, realizing its inability to compete in standard trade with its North American and Asian rivals, opted to pursue (and master) the field of decadent luxury, co-opting and then setting all trends in High Culture; and its commanding success was a line of life-size, female Cartier dolls endowed with all the attributes of sentience through the miracle of nanotechnology.
Alas, life tends to lend itself to slipperiness, easily wriggling free from the arrogant presumption of human-tendered control; and so it has come to pass that these dolls, inherently attuned to the quantum reality that underlies the phenomenal world, have become corrupted, taken on a malignant bent; their vampiric saliva capable of infecting a man's seed such that any female offspring he subsequently sires will, with the onset of puberty, undergo a transformation from flesh-and-blood humanity to silicon, steel, and plastic-limbed dollhood, one in which, bellies aswirl with the emerald energy of their own abdominal event horizon, they possess superhuman strength and senses, exude an erotic allure that weakens knees and hardens cocks, and gain the ability to work magic. The trade-off? Such rapid and drastic molecular change burns their essence, even while inflaming them with a death-drive impossible to resist—and so these girl-dolls, termed Lilim, have a brief lifespan in which to spread their dehumanizing infection. As the Lilim have prevailed most in Britain, the authorities there—an extirpating party labelled the Human Front and led by immigrant-demagogue Vlad Constantinescu—have tried to contain the contagion within an interdicted Inner London, creating a devasted, shadowy urban hell called Neverland, populated by pubescent girls at various stages of their doll transformation striving to avoid the stake-impalement administered to captured Lilim at hospitals-cum-gallows together with the enraged or disengaged immigrant families who couldn't afford to vacate ere the quarantine was declared, and are stuck within this gyno-vampiric zone.
A pair of refugees from this infernal environment are early-teen doll-in-becoming Primavera Bobinski and her coëval human doll-junkie boyfriend, Ignatz Zwakh. Although Lilim are incapable of love, Primavera feels better having Iggy around, while the latter, to his shame and ecstatic joy, has become addicted to the sexual rush delivered by the envenomed saliva of his feline-toothed, metamorphosed girlfriend. In exile from doll-executing England, the pair have wound up in the sleazy technical decadence of Bangkok's Big Weird, a pornocracy wherein every perverted sexual desire is catered to by a wide variety of AI-endowed automatons. Working as payroll assassins for Madame K., a non-Lilim gynoid who rules a powerful house within the Big Weird, and on the run from US government agents, Iggy and Primavera continue to draw strength from their unconventional, but enduring bond, whilst attempting to discover what the actual truth might be concerning the plague that created these doll-girls robbed of their lives and their flesh, both in where it came from and what, exactly, it portends.
With Dead Girls, Calder launched a heady flotilla of ideas, elements, and styles upon the tide-heavy waters of this dystopian tale—but above all else one must take note of the conducting presence of his elegantly wrought prose. The entirety is mellifluous, potent, and even thornily come-hither, capable of wringing the maximal effect from (and requiring, on the reader's part, a maximal effort towards) Calder's dark themes, philosophical strip shows, and narrative gear shifts: the result being that, whether he is plumbing the psychological connexion between insatiable sexual desire and the immolating ache for existential extinction or emptying his authorial clip in a rapid-fire barrage of kitschy-comical car chases and urban manhunts, the aesthetic reward proves ever sufficient to assuage whatever irritation or confusion or apathy may have arisen within the readership due to this unorthodox, switchback modus Calderandi.
Alas, life tends to lend itself to slipperiness, easily wriggling free from the arrogant presumption of human-tendered control; and so it has come to pass that these dolls, inherently attuned to the quantum reality that underlies the phenomenal world, have become corrupted, taken on a malignant bent; their vampiric saliva capable of infecting a man's seed such that any female offspring he subsequently sires will, with the onset of puberty, undergo a transformation from flesh-and-blood humanity to silicon, steel, and plastic-limbed dollhood, one in which, bellies aswirl with the emerald energy of their own abdominal event horizon, they possess superhuman strength and senses, exude an erotic allure that weakens knees and hardens cocks, and gain the ability to work magic. The trade-off? Such rapid and drastic molecular change burns their essence, even while inflaming them with a death-drive impossible to resist—and so these girl-dolls, termed Lilim, have a brief lifespan in which to spread their dehumanizing infection. As the Lilim have prevailed most in Britain, the authorities there—an extirpating party labelled the Human Front and led by immigrant-demagogue Vlad Constantinescu—have tried to contain the contagion within an interdicted Inner London, creating a devasted, shadowy urban hell called Neverland, populated by pubescent girls at various stages of their doll transformation striving to avoid the stake-impalement administered to captured Lilim at hospitals-cum-gallows together with the enraged or disengaged immigrant families who couldn't afford to vacate ere the quarantine was declared, and are stuck within this gyno-vampiric zone.
A pair of refugees from this infernal environment are early-teen doll-in-becoming Primavera Bobinski and her coëval human doll-junkie boyfriend, Ignatz Zwakh. Although Lilim are incapable of love, Primavera feels better having Iggy around, while the latter, to his shame and ecstatic joy, has become addicted to the sexual rush delivered by the envenomed saliva of his feline-toothed, metamorphosed girlfriend. In exile from doll-executing England, the pair have wound up in the sleazy technical decadence of Bangkok's Big Weird, a pornocracy wherein every perverted sexual desire is catered to by a wide variety of AI-endowed automatons. Working as payroll assassins for Madame K., a non-Lilim gynoid who rules a powerful house within the Big Weird, and on the run from US government agents, Iggy and Primavera continue to draw strength from their unconventional, but enduring bond, whilst attempting to discover what the actual truth might be concerning the plague that created these doll-girls robbed of their lives and their flesh, both in where it came from and what, exactly, it portends.
With Dead Girls, Calder launched a heady flotilla of ideas, elements, and styles upon the tide-heavy waters of this dystopian tale—but above all else one must take note of the conducting presence of his elegantly wrought prose. The entirety is mellifluous, potent, and even thornily come-hither, capable of wringing the maximal effect from (and requiring, on the reader's part, a maximal effort towards) Calder's dark themes, philosophical strip shows, and narrative gear shifts: the result being that, whether he is plumbing the psychological connexion between insatiable sexual desire and the immolating ache for existential extinction or emptying his authorial clip in a rapid-fire barrage of kitschy-comical car chases and urban manhunts, the aesthetic reward proves ever sufficient to assuage whatever irritation or confusion or apathy may have arisen within the readership due to this unorthodox, switchback modus Calderandi.
March 18, 2023
As always, beneath the vaulted brilliance the infernal shadows of the streets were filled with the phantoms of murdered girls.
Read the other reviews, I found them illuminating-- the idea that Dead Girls is a flotilla of ideas or that it is more of a mindspace than a novel -- both of are parallel to my own loping appreciation. That said, I don't care for cyberpunk. Written in the early 1990s Calder imagines a world of 2070--one where resources are dwindling and mass migration has irrevocably altered global areas of influence. There is a pandemic of sorts and there are automatons and an admixture betwixt and between the pair, the nature of which would likely be a killjoy spoiler. You have to appreciate a novel where the author dedicates matters to Dolores Haze and Wednesday Addams.
Read the other reviews, I found them illuminating-- the idea that Dead Girls is a flotilla of ideas or that it is more of a mindspace than a novel -- both of are parallel to my own loping appreciation. That said, I don't care for cyberpunk. Written in the early 1990s Calder imagines a world of 2070--one where resources are dwindling and mass migration has irrevocably altered global areas of influence. There is a pandemic of sorts and there are automatons and an admixture betwixt and between the pair, the nature of which would likely be a killjoy spoiler. You have to appreciate a novel where the author dedicates matters to Dolores Haze and Wednesday Addams.
December 30, 2015
If I'd read this book a few years ago I wouldn't just have liked it--it would have been a favorite. Now, though, I feel a lot more nebulous about it. The writing is incredibly lush, almost baroque, in a world that starts with the intellectual conventions of cyberpunk but injects them with a startling excess of strangeness, surrealism, and the grotesque. There are a lot of fascinating ideas, in particular... which makes it unfortunate that I had a lot of trouble overlooking the book's weaknesses. The action is messy and thin to the point it really bothered me, full of structural moves that mostly didn't work in my opinion, and while there's something really fascinating about the relationship at the center of the book, every other character was a sort of gaudy mouthpiece for worldbuilding. There was a lot of emotion buried in this book, but I had trouble accessing it; and near the end I especially felt the plot was making moves it hadn't earned.
The problem, I think, is this tries to be a narrative driven book but it's uncomfortable with narrative, which made it feel patchy and uneven for me, with too few moments of lucidity despite the fantastic images and prose. Some friends have told me the second and third novels become hyperstylized and more abstract, which seems like Calder playing to his strengths--there's a good chance I might read them eventually despite this one not sitting well with me, since I can't help thinking of my older self (who would have loved the language and ideas despite what bothers me about the book now).
This is more a mindspace than a novel, I think, and if I'd been able to enter into it I would have liked the book a lot. It could be where I'm at mentally right now and the fact I was never able to read as much of it in one sitting as I liked, but I was just never able to get inside, though I'm hoping if I try again with the sequels later I'll be able to.
The problem, I think, is this tries to be a narrative driven book but it's uncomfortable with narrative, which made it feel patchy and uneven for me, with too few moments of lucidity despite the fantastic images and prose. Some friends have told me the second and third novels become hyperstylized and more abstract, which seems like Calder playing to his strengths--there's a good chance I might read them eventually despite this one not sitting well with me, since I can't help thinking of my older self (who would have loved the language and ideas despite what bothers me about the book now).
This is more a mindspace than a novel, I think, and if I'd been able to enter into it I would have liked the book a lot. It could be where I'm at mentally right now and the fact I was never able to read as much of it in one sitting as I liked, but I was just never able to get inside, though I'm hoping if I try again with the sequels later I'll be able to.
November 30, 2025
Definitely slots into my top ten favorite books of all time. A spectacular read. In the distant future, AIs and quantum-based clockwork androids are at war with humanity, and a human school boy has fallen in love with a robot. Extreme cyberpunk and written in the early nineties. Just so damn good.
January 24, 2015
When I do read sci-fi, my preference is for near-future stuff set on our existing planet, which is why I picked this up after reading about it somewhere. It's a great debut, and the first in a trilogy (followed by Dead Boys and Dead Things), which I didn't realize until the end. The story takes place a little less than a century in the future, where nanotechnology and robotics and human nature have combined to create a virus that threatens all humanity.
It seems that in London, when young girls hit puberty, they are transformed into a form of vampiric human/nanotech hybrid/robots called "gynoids" or "Lilim" or "dolls". They have a blood lust toward men, and may also have various telepathic and telekinetic powers. For the safety of humanity, London has therefore been sealed... but there are ways out. One doll who made it out is Primavera, with the help of her boyfriend Ignatz. They made it all the way to Thailand, where they've been surviving as contract killers for hire.
We learn all this via flashback chapters, which are interwoven with their current woes, as various interests come gunning for them. In a sense, the plot of the story is less interesting or important than the overall wild vibe of this vision of future Earth, as well as the themes of mortality, sexuality, love, and humanity. It's a both fascinating and chilling version of the future, full of colorful language and characters. It's also short and sweet, so it's not a huge commitment to try out. Once I catch my breath, I'll try out the next in the trilogy. I'm also curious to see the graphic novelization of the book, which recently came out.
It seems that in London, when young girls hit puberty, they are transformed into a form of vampiric human/nanotech hybrid/robots called "gynoids" or "Lilim" or "dolls". They have a blood lust toward men, and may also have various telepathic and telekinetic powers. For the safety of humanity, London has therefore been sealed... but there are ways out. One doll who made it out is Primavera, with the help of her boyfriend Ignatz. They made it all the way to Thailand, where they've been surviving as contract killers for hire.
We learn all this via flashback chapters, which are interwoven with their current woes, as various interests come gunning for them. In a sense, the plot of the story is less interesting or important than the overall wild vibe of this vision of future Earth, as well as the themes of mortality, sexuality, love, and humanity. It's a both fascinating and chilling version of the future, full of colorful language and characters. It's also short and sweet, so it's not a huge commitment to try out. Once I catch my breath, I'll try out the next in the trilogy. I'm also curious to see the graphic novelization of the book, which recently came out.
February 3, 2021
Tw: misoginia, problemáticas de género, abuso sexual, violación.
*esta reseña contiene spoilers*
Un libro como este no es para un tiempo como este... ¿o tal vez sí?, entre el álgido debate en torno al género, la radicalización de las opiniones y el enfrentamiento entre quien odia y quien es odiado, ¿hay lugar para historias que directamente son provocaciones? Provocar tiene su arte y su gracia para el que emprende la acción, no tanto para quien la recibe. Richard Calder es un provocador y Chicas Muertas es una declaración de guerra contra las mujeres y contra el patriarcado al mismo tiempo, no hay espacio para tomar partido, entre la misantropía y el odio contra todos los valores que los hombres han creado para si mismos con respecto a las mujeres, es imposible distinguir claramente la postura moral del autor, es un error leer desde las emociones más viscerales la novela pero tampoco se puede evitar sentir la repulsión por la visión del mundo que monta frente al lector.
En Chicas Muertas al fin ha pasado, hay un sustituto para todas las mujeres como seres sintientes y pensantes, las muñecas se van abriendo paso reemplazandolas, ellas son gynoides (el equivalente femenino del androide), seres violentos, fríos, sintéticos, lujuriosos que están en el mundo para ser usados para el deseo del hombre. Y luego, la paradoja. Son una enfermedad que los hombres transmiten y está matando a sus hijas que eventualmente nacerán crecerán y se convertirán en muñecas; su diseño es perfecto, perfecto como la amenaza que representan para la continuidad de la especie, estás gynoides son el producto del hombre en su deseos verdaderos, la destrucción de la vida humana por la vía del deseo y la satisfacción del placer.
Calder no tiene suficiente con este planteamiento por que dota a la especie de las muñecas con una naturaleza desafiante e independiente que también inunda de terror el corazón del hombre, un prototipo de mujer que no lo necesita sentimentalmente pues a las muñecas les viene importando nada su emocionalidad, son tomadas por fuerza como satisfactores pero no por gusto, ya no sirven al hombre de ninguna manera y el circulo se completa porque nuevamente los hombres se ven en la necesidad de someter, es una espiral de pesadilla sin final, no hay salida y mucho menos cuando se revela que la líder de las Muñecas juega un doble juego, el propio, de la manipulación con sus semejantes y el de los hombres como siempre, por el poder.
En medio del caos se desarrolla para rematar una historia contra el amor, el de un chico humano Ignatz y una muñeca Primavera (irónico nombre para un ser que insiste en tener una naturaleza muerta y plástica), dependencia parasitaria invertida pues es el quien se muere, literalmente al tratar de seguirle el paso a Primavera su eterna amada en una cruzada mortal por alcanzar ese amor sintético y perfecto, tan parecido al ideal destructivo del amor romántico, solo que aquí es Ignatz quien va a tener que soportar todo el dolor que conlleva amar, soportándolo hasta el final por una pequeña muestra de compasión desesperada.
Hay que leer despacio pues la rareza del lenguaje y las situaciones podría hacer quien lee perder el sentido con facilidad. No es una lectura ligera, tampoco es una lectura satisfactoria para Calder es más importante reforzar la idea siniestra de que como especie, la humanidad (los hombres) no tiene forma de escapar de sus dinámicas del sometimiento y la violencia, mientras que las mujeres no tienen otra opción que mutar y mutar en si mismas para terminar en lo mismo con respecto a sus violentadores. La provocación final del libro es dejar bien claro que el destino es.
Le he dado 3 estrellas por dar un raiting, se me ha dificultado el poder calificar un libro como este, de ese tipo en el que no sabes si de tan malo es profundo o es tan profundo que es desolador, simplemente es basura con una trama confusa o es una obra completa y necesaria. Eso lo van a tener que decidir ustedes, si se animan a confrontar la provocación de Calder.
*esta reseña contiene spoilers*
Un libro como este no es para un tiempo como este... ¿o tal vez sí?, entre el álgido debate en torno al género, la radicalización de las opiniones y el enfrentamiento entre quien odia y quien es odiado, ¿hay lugar para historias que directamente son provocaciones? Provocar tiene su arte y su gracia para el que emprende la acción, no tanto para quien la recibe. Richard Calder es un provocador y Chicas Muertas es una declaración de guerra contra las mujeres y contra el patriarcado al mismo tiempo, no hay espacio para tomar partido, entre la misantropía y el odio contra todos los valores que los hombres han creado para si mismos con respecto a las mujeres, es imposible distinguir claramente la postura moral del autor, es un error leer desde las emociones más viscerales la novela pero tampoco se puede evitar sentir la repulsión por la visión del mundo que monta frente al lector.
En Chicas Muertas al fin ha pasado, hay un sustituto para todas las mujeres como seres sintientes y pensantes, las muñecas se van abriendo paso reemplazandolas, ellas son gynoides (el equivalente femenino del androide), seres violentos, fríos, sintéticos, lujuriosos que están en el mundo para ser usados para el deseo del hombre. Y luego, la paradoja. Son una enfermedad que los hombres transmiten y está matando a sus hijas que eventualmente nacerán crecerán y se convertirán en muñecas; su diseño es perfecto, perfecto como la amenaza que representan para la continuidad de la especie, estás gynoides son el producto del hombre en su deseos verdaderos, la destrucción de la vida humana por la vía del deseo y la satisfacción del placer.
Calder no tiene suficiente con este planteamiento por que dota a la especie de las muñecas con una naturaleza desafiante e independiente que también inunda de terror el corazón del hombre, un prototipo de mujer que no lo necesita sentimentalmente pues a las muñecas les viene importando nada su emocionalidad, son tomadas por fuerza como satisfactores pero no por gusto, ya no sirven al hombre de ninguna manera y el circulo se completa porque nuevamente los hombres se ven en la necesidad de someter, es una espiral de pesadilla sin final, no hay salida y mucho menos cuando se revela que la líder de las Muñecas juega un doble juego, el propio, de la manipulación con sus semejantes y el de los hombres como siempre, por el poder.
En medio del caos se desarrolla para rematar una historia contra el amor, el de un chico humano Ignatz y una muñeca Primavera (irónico nombre para un ser que insiste en tener una naturaleza muerta y plástica), dependencia parasitaria invertida pues es el quien se muere, literalmente al tratar de seguirle el paso a Primavera su eterna amada en una cruzada mortal por alcanzar ese amor sintético y perfecto, tan parecido al ideal destructivo del amor romántico, solo que aquí es Ignatz quien va a tener que soportar todo el dolor que conlleva amar, soportándolo hasta el final por una pequeña muestra de compasión desesperada.
Hay que leer despacio pues la rareza del lenguaje y las situaciones podría hacer quien lee perder el sentido con facilidad. No es una lectura ligera, tampoco es una lectura satisfactoria para Calder es más importante reforzar la idea siniestra de que como especie, la humanidad (los hombres) no tiene forma de escapar de sus dinámicas del sometimiento y la violencia, mientras que las mujeres no tienen otra opción que mutar y mutar en si mismas para terminar en lo mismo con respecto a sus violentadores. La provocación final del libro es dejar bien claro que el destino es.
Le he dado 3 estrellas por dar un raiting, se me ha dificultado el poder calificar un libro como este, de ese tipo en el que no sabes si de tan malo es profundo o es tan profundo que es desolador, simplemente es basura con una trama confusa o es una obra completa y necesaria. Eso lo van a tener que decidir ustedes, si se animan a confrontar la provocación de Calder.
November 26, 2024
Me ha resultado un poco aburrido. Es darle vueltas a todo.
August 20, 2012
These days, I'm not usually one for dystopic or gender-wars science fiction. But this book is the exception and the reason why the whole badly watered-down subgenres exists. What starts off seeming like an overly ornate piece of second-wave misogyny, with women-reduced-to-concept taken to some new scary level, quickly reveals itself to be a stunning display of genre acrobatics. The tone is less science fiction than classical social-commentary horror, specifically grabbing Bram Stoker's uglinesses and turning them on their head while simultaneously and crushingly following them through to their natural conclusion. A stunning cautionary tale about what lurks behind any closed system of ideals, a brutal discussion of the relationship between cultural observers and observed, a condemnation of the imposition of malignant conceptualization and design upon the trivialized, and a dirty little tragedy of innocence - however ersatz and tortured - betrayed.
Gets a little too into the Hello Kitty goth pop vibe, but even that fits in with the concept of the book. If you trust the story for a few chapters, it'll take you to some really interesting places.
Edit: A shorter version of this review would have been to say, "Wow! So THAT'S what's so creepy about anime!"
Gets a little too into the Hello Kitty goth pop vibe, but even that fits in with the concept of the book. If you trust the story for a few chapters, it'll take you to some really interesting places.
Edit: A shorter version of this review would have been to say, "Wow! So THAT'S what's so creepy about anime!"
November 16, 2020
Biopunk raro de este autor inglés. Gran promesa de la ciencia ficción britanica que no tuvo éxito. En el futuro estan de moda la ginoides, androides femeninas para el placer y la compañia. Una guerra corporativa produce un nanovirus en la robots que les produce la necesidad de beber sangre humana. A estas ginoides se les nombra dead girls y a los "donadores" de sangre, junkies. Ignatz Mahkv es un hombre inglés quien vive en Tailanda, obsesionado con una dead girl de su niñez llamada Primavera. Sexo, violencia y extraños monólogos de conciencia IA. Una obra sui generis.
October 6, 2021
A nightmare journey bridging the cyberpunk theme with a monstrous eroticism and lyrical descent into a futuristic Hell. Dead Girls is powerfully, visually evocative and a deathly indictment of the base desire in man to eternally defile innocence. Our future, just around the corner. A stunning debut into the cyberpunk dystopia.
May 2, 2022
If you're a fan of cyberpunk and you haven't read this book yet you really need to go out and purchase a copy oh, it's one of the best examples I've ever seen of the genre. There were a couple of sequels although you can also read this as a stand alone book If you prefer.
June 18, 2017
Didn't enjoy this at all. Had enjoyed the graphic novel in the past but found this confusing and difficult to follow. Language strange and impenetrable.
January 26, 2025
Novela extrañísima en la que me ha costado hacer pie por momentos, pero creo que lo considero inherente al cyberpunk, donde creo que podemos encajar la novela sin apenas titubeos.
Extrañísima porque la trama suena estúpida cuando puesta negro sobre blanco, pero es ejecutada con una seriedad pasmosa. La trama, grosso modo, trata sobre el protagonista huyendo con una de las chicas muertas, las víctimas de una plaga que viene de unas ginoides. Vale, paro.
Dicho en cristiano y ampliando: Europa ha enloquecido como continente volcado en el lujo, el epítome de este lujo son las muñecas, autómatas, que se presupone sexuales pero queda entre sombras... lo que sí queda claro es que sus imitaciones asiáticas sí que son para hacer con ellas lo que quieras. Se entra en una guerra comercial en la que se supone que estas muñecas son infectadas con un virus que pasa (?) a las jóvenes británicas, que se transforman en muñecas.
Dicho como el johnny que soy que no se ha enterado a ratos: Como una especie de ETS que se ha expandido a Europa (quizá producto de una guerra comercial) por tirarse real dolls autómatas y que de algún modo convierte a las chavalas biológicas en muñecas sexuales. Ah, y el movimiento fascistoide que quiere aniquilar a estas peligrosas enfermas, por supuesto, el Frente Humano.
Como digo, suena estúpido, pero el Calder va a muerte con la premisa. Luego lo riega todo con nanocomputación y unas historietas así de doctores locos y ya queda solventado.
Lo que me ha seducido, más allá de la relación de Iggy y Primavera, nuestros jóvenes a la huida, ha sido la descripción de la sociedad presentada. Buena parte de la novela transcurre en una Bangkok cyberpunk medio anegada en las aguas como una especie de neo-Venecia y sumida en la «pornocracia» (brutal) y el turismo sexual. Neón, delincuencia, decadencia, marcas conocidas (Rolex, Seiko, Cartier, ...) que funcionan casi como estados... es lo que quiero cuando leo estas movidas.
Pese a lo que estoy contando, Calder no se recrea apenas en lo guarro del asunto. Las pocas escenas sexuales que hay suelen consistir en Primavera agrediendo a Iggy, de un modo u otro. La perversión siempre está de fondo y su prosa no es nada explícita en ese sentido, algo barroca en todo lo demás. Me gusta la voz del protagonista, que casi siempre es sujeto pasivo ante una feroz Primavera y un mundo que, ante todo, quiere acabar con él y todos los que son como él: los yonquis de las muñecas.
Ha sido raro porque ha habido conceptos que me han parecido explicados un par de veces y otros tantos que no me han quedado nada claros. Para ser una novela de apenas 200 páginas me ha parecido bastante densa y de lectura lenta. Como digo, ha habido cosas que no he entendido y siento que muchos giros de la trama se me han escapado, pero se podía seguir el viaje igualmente.
La recomiendo.
Extrañísima porque la trama suena estúpida cuando puesta negro sobre blanco, pero es ejecutada con una seriedad pasmosa. La trama, grosso modo, trata sobre el protagonista huyendo con una de las chicas muertas, las víctimas de una plaga que viene de unas ginoides. Vale, paro.
Dicho en cristiano y ampliando: Europa ha enloquecido como continente volcado en el lujo, el epítome de este lujo son las muñecas, autómatas, que se presupone sexuales pero queda entre sombras... lo que sí queda claro es que sus imitaciones asiáticas sí que son para hacer con ellas lo que quieras. Se entra en una guerra comercial en la que se supone que estas muñecas son infectadas con un virus que pasa (?) a las jóvenes británicas, que se transforman en muñecas.
Dicho como el johnny que soy que no se ha enterado a ratos: Como una especie de ETS que se ha expandido a Europa (quizá producto de una guerra comercial) por tirarse real dolls autómatas y que de algún modo convierte a las chavalas biológicas en muñecas sexuales. Ah, y el movimiento fascistoide que quiere aniquilar a estas peligrosas enfermas, por supuesto, el Frente Humano.
Como digo, suena estúpido, pero el Calder va a muerte con la premisa. Luego lo riega todo con nanocomputación y unas historietas así de doctores locos y ya queda solventado.
Lo que me ha seducido, más allá de la relación de Iggy y Primavera, nuestros jóvenes a la huida, ha sido la descripción de la sociedad presentada. Buena parte de la novela transcurre en una Bangkok cyberpunk medio anegada en las aguas como una especie de neo-Venecia y sumida en la «pornocracia» (brutal) y el turismo sexual. Neón, delincuencia, decadencia, marcas conocidas (Rolex, Seiko, Cartier, ...) que funcionan casi como estados... es lo que quiero cuando leo estas movidas.
Pese a lo que estoy contando, Calder no se recrea apenas en lo guarro del asunto. Las pocas escenas sexuales que hay suelen consistir en Primavera agrediendo a Iggy, de un modo u otro. La perversión siempre está de fondo y su prosa no es nada explícita en ese sentido, algo barroca en todo lo demás. Me gusta la voz del protagonista, que casi siempre es sujeto pasivo ante una feroz Primavera y un mundo que, ante todo, quiere acabar con él y todos los que son como él: los yonquis de las muñecas.
Ha sido raro porque ha habido conceptos que me han parecido explicados un par de veces y otros tantos que no me han quedado nada claros. Para ser una novela de apenas 200 páginas me ha parecido bastante densa y de lectura lenta. Como digo, ha habido cosas que no he entendido y siento que muchos giros de la trama se me han escapado, pero se podía seguir el viaje igualmente.
La recomiendo.
August 26, 2022
3.5 stelle
Libro cyberpunk davvero atipico.. accostabile a La ragazza meccanica di Baccigalupi, a Bambole di Mishima, un po' Dr Adder di Jeter o E-Doll di Verso, racconta una storia particolare, veloce, irrefrenabile, ma al contempo complessa, e contorta.. in alcuni punti peró si contorce un po' troppo su se stessa e si fa un po' confusa, ma sono solo brevi tratti.. visionario, lisergico e davvero tanto fantasioso (in alcuni al limite della mera fantasia anziché della fantascienza) resta una buona lettura...
Libro cyberpunk davvero atipico.. accostabile a La ragazza meccanica di Baccigalupi, a Bambole di Mishima, un po' Dr Adder di Jeter o E-Doll di Verso, racconta una storia particolare, veloce, irrefrenabile, ma al contempo complessa, e contorta.. in alcuni punti peró si contorce un po' troppo su se stessa e si fa un po' confusa, ma sono solo brevi tratti.. visionario, lisergico e davvero tanto fantasioso (in alcuni al limite della mera fantasia anziché della fantascienza) resta una buona lettura...
June 3, 2021
No me ha gustado nada. La mitad de las veces no me enteraba de qué estaba pasando realmente.
October 18, 2021
I enjoyed reading the first half of the book; I could see how the second half was nice too, but somehow there were too many details that I lost track of. Probably better than three stars.
Read
June 30, 2024dnf’d this, i got the ick early and fast, glad to be confirmed by other reviews
January 5, 2025
Fairly certain this is not everyone's cup of tea, the language and style takes a little getting used to , but once you're in the ride is wild.
Read
May 9, 20252 Word Review: Often incomprehensible.
I've read thousands of SciFi novels, and lots of cyberpunk. This one was difficult to follow, and thus not easy to enjoy. On the plus side, it seemed moody & wacky (at least the bits that I could get into).
It was like starting a movie in the middle, and trying to ascertain the almost nonsensical plot. It felt like random half-conversations and barely coherent scenes jumbled together, with little narrative flow or logic -- which all may have been intentional; cyberpunk-SF is often purposely weird.
VERDICT: Interesting (yet frustratingly vague) characters and a half-rendered plot. I can only summon around 2.1 stars, at most. It probably deserves 3 stars; perhaps this tale was far too clever for me.
I've read thousands of SciFi novels, and lots of cyberpunk. This one was difficult to follow, and thus not easy to enjoy. On the plus side, it seemed moody & wacky (at least the bits that I could get into).
It was like starting a movie in the middle, and trying to ascertain the almost nonsensical plot. It felt like random half-conversations and barely coherent scenes jumbled together, with little narrative flow or logic -- which all may have been intentional; cyberpunk-SF is often purposely weird.
VERDICT: Interesting (yet frustratingly vague) characters and a half-rendered plot. I can only summon around 2.1 stars, at most. It probably deserves 3 stars; perhaps this tale was far too clever for me.
July 22, 2012
In Dead Girls, Ignatz Zwakh lives in a highly technological world powered by fear, sex and death. A plague that corrupts young girls by turning them into Lilim--vampiric nanoengineered dead girls--has swept the globe one metamorphosis at a time. Ignatz, as a schoolboy, falls in love with a Lilim, Primavera. Together, they discover the truth and tragedy behind the plague.
By the time I got around to reading Dead Girls, Dead Boys was a far-off memory that vaguely reminded me of women dying on spikes, perverse sex-driven deaths, stylistic prose and green. Dead Girls was a far cry from my recollection but not in an unpleasant way. Ignatz's appetite for disaster is so prevalent throughout that, even though the chapters alternate between the past and the present, I can't help but want the same even as I watch its dire consequences. The history and evolution of the world's reaction to the plague felt real and concise. The Human Front, which stands against these young women who use men to pass on their tainted genes, sounds as plausible as any.
Not to discount the strangeness of it all, though.
Cruel Hospitals where Lilim-in-progress are sent by frightened parents; overzealous schoolboys who learn from bad examples and torture for fun; propaganda and escape; the pornocracy of the Big Weird, the life and city that Iggy had followed the woman he loves into; dead girls with gingivitis, hemline psychosis, vagina dentata and a sordid desire to die at the hands of a man mid-orgasm...
That's only the tip of the iceberg.
Oh, this is a dirty ride. Filthy, nasty and crazy. I loved every minute of it. And, as provided by the excerpt above, the writing was marvelous to boot. It's unapologetic in its use of the unconventional, the frowned-upon, and that's the kind of thing I admire. Not included were the Francophilic and Asian (Thai?) cordon sanitaires and klongs, etc. They can be hard to read around if you know nothing about any language other than English or how to use context clues; most are, though, pretty transparent. Such as:
What begins as a simple story of one young man's attempt to escape a life he doesn't know to get on without quickly transmogrifies into a series of discoveries that all lead back to sex--and death.
Dead Boys is nothing like its predecessor. It's denser, more intricate, less dialogue-heavy and much, much darker.
ALSO POSTED AT MY BLOG.
By the time I got around to reading Dead Girls, Dead Boys was a far-off memory that vaguely reminded me of women dying on spikes, perverse sex-driven deaths, stylistic prose and green. Dead Girls was a far cry from my recollection but not in an unpleasant way. Ignatz's appetite for disaster is so prevalent throughout that, even though the chapters alternate between the past and the present, I can't help but want the same even as I watch its dire consequences. The history and evolution of the world's reaction to the plague felt real and concise. The Human Front, which stands against these young women who use men to pass on their tainted genes, sounds as plausible as any.
Not to discount the strangeness of it all, though.
Cruel Hospitals where Lilim-in-progress are sent by frightened parents; overzealous schoolboys who learn from bad examples and torture for fun; propaganda and escape; the pornocracy of the Big Weird, the life and city that Iggy had followed the woman he loves into; dead girls with gingivitis, hemline psychosis, vagina dentata and a sordid desire to die at the hands of a man mid-orgasm...
That's only the tip of the iceberg.
Shells burst behind my eyes; I was her beachhead, first blood in a guerrilla war against humanity. Fifth columnists leaped from her spittle, a microrobotic army dedicated to overthrowing my gametes. They infiltrated in their billions. Ignoring Y, digging into X, they would wait, wait for me to fill a human womb so that they might stage their coup and set up a puppet government.
A blue-white flash.
Tombstones. The coach. The fall of night.
Primavera was eating my brain.
I awoke from post-coital sleep on the hard floor of the pavilion, my head rich with traces of midsummer dreams.
- Dead Girls, p. 24-25
Oh, this is a dirty ride. Filthy, nasty and crazy. I loved every minute of it. And, as provided by the excerpt above, the writing was marvelous to boot. It's unapologetic in its use of the unconventional, the frowned-upon, and that's the kind of thing I admire. Not included were the Francophilic and Asian (Thai?) cordon sanitaires and klongs, etc. They can be hard to read around if you know nothing about any language other than English or how to use context clues; most are, though, pretty transparent. Such as:
Bond Street was a desert of broken glass and gutted shopfronts, a desecrated memorial to the belle époque. Primavera rescued some tattered couture from the gutter. She held it up, gauging its appeal.
- Dead Girls, p. 61
What begins as a simple story of one young man's attempt to escape a life he doesn't know to get on without quickly transmogrifies into a series of discoveries that all lead back to sex--and death.
Dead Boys is nothing like its predecessor. It's denser, more intricate, less dialogue-heavy and much, much darker.
ALSO POSTED AT MY BLOG.
February 9, 2015
Unsure whether anything I've read others have written on this is quite so. Still sorting out my own views here, apart from the certsinty that Calder has a pervy, word-besotted brilliance, his prose a hallucinogenic mix of jet fuel, crack, acid, and Joyce. Or jet-fueled Joyce channeling the Marquis de Sade on crack and acid..maybe I should take in the next two installments before trying to make sense of the experience.
September 9, 2008
Even better than Cythera. Another jump into the Calder future with some of the same characters. Very, very, nice. Calder gives me a hard on (litterally), then makes me feel guilty, then makes me feel perverse, then makes me feel like an alien.
July 26, 2010
With scenes comparable to Gibson and the poetry of Bester, this book could do no wrong. Not cyberpunk, but technoir. A fast, achingly gorgeous and brutally written novel that defines my taste in scifi. As much a metaphor for the sex trade as it is for personal sexual relationships. Just beautiful.
June 6, 2016
I enjoyed this book, it was pretty fast paced and full or jargon. It reminded me of a few other books I read (Wind up Girl, Neuromancer) and I think that made it a much more enjoyable experience. It was a pretty interesting topic for the world building as well as the unveiling of the plot
October 22, 2014
WTF? Seriously, WTF? This made about as much sense as a music video with the sound turned off. Just a collection of weird images. I want the time and the money back.
December 21, 2014
Ressenya en català:
http://www.elkraken.com/R-chicas%20mu...
Reseña en castellano:
http://www.elkraken.com/Esp/R-chicas%...
http://www.elkraken.com/R-chicas%20mu...
Reseña en castellano:
http://www.elkraken.com/Esp/R-chicas%...
January 8, 2016
So different from anything else I've read, in a good way.
Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews