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Континуум Гернсбека
Ein 1980, das es nie gab
Ein Fotograf erhält den Auftrag, die einst futuristische, jetzt allerdings beinahe vergessene Architektur aus den Dreißigerjahren zu fotografieren – vergangene Entwürfe einer Zukunft, die von Hugo Gernsback und den Covern der Pulp-Magazine beeinflusst waren. Doch je mehr er sich auf eine Zukunft einlässt, die nie stattgefunden hat, desto mehr droht ihm die Gegenwart zu entgleiten.
Die Kurzgeschichte „Das Gernsback-Kontinuum“ erscheint als exklusives E-Book Only bei Heyne und ist zusammen mit weiteren Stories von William Gibson auch in dem Sammelband „Cyberspace“ enthalten. Sie umfasst ca. 16 Buchseiten.
Ein Fotograf erhält den Auftrag, die einst futuristische, jetzt allerdings beinahe vergessene Architektur aus den Dreißigerjahren zu fotografieren – vergangene Entwürfe einer Zukunft, die von Hugo Gernsback und den Covern der Pulp-Magazine beeinflusst waren. Doch je mehr er sich auf eine Zukunft einlässt, die nie stattgefunden hat, desto mehr droht ihm die Gegenwart zu entgleiten.
Die Kurzgeschichte „Das Gernsback-Kontinuum“ erscheint als exklusives E-Book Only bei Heyne und ist zusammen mit weiteren Stories von William Gibson auch in dem Sammelband „Cyberspace“ enthalten. Sie umfasst ca. 16 Buchseiten.
Unknown Binding
First published June 1, 1981
5 people are currently reading
100 people want to read
About the author
William Gibson
291 books14.8k followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
William Ford Gibson is an American-Canadian writer who has been called the father of the cyberpunk subgenre of science fiction, having coined the term cyberspace in 1982 and popularized it in his first novel, Neuromancer (1984), which has sold more than 6.5 million copies worldwide.
While his early writing took the form of short stories, Gibson has since written nine critically acclaimed novels (one in collaboration), contributed articles to several major publications, and has collaborated extensively with performance artists, filmmakers and musicians. His thought has been cited as an influence on science fiction authors, academia, cyberculture, and technology.
---------------------------------
William Gibson. (2007, October 17). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 20:30, October 19, 2007, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?t...
William Ford Gibson is an American-Canadian writer who has been called the father of the cyberpunk subgenre of science fiction, having coined the term cyberspace in 1982 and popularized it in his first novel, Neuromancer (1984), which has sold more than 6.5 million copies worldwide.
While his early writing took the form of short stories, Gibson has since written nine critically acclaimed novels (one in collaboration), contributed articles to several major publications, and has collaborated extensively with performance artists, filmmakers and musicians. His thought has been cited as an influence on science fiction authors, academia, cyberculture, and technology.
---------------------------------
William Gibson. (2007, October 17). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 20:30, October 19, 2007, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?t...
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
January 18, 2024
Having just reread Gibson’s Mona Lisa Overdrive https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
I noted in that review the interesting things and cultural changes were “predicted” in that novel and had already come to pass.
In this shorter piece from the same period, we have a different Gibson; one who is angry at other’s futuristic visions.
Our protagonist is a commercial photographer who is hired to “amp up” an author’s visions.
"“Think of it,” Dialta Downes had said, “as a kind of alternate America: a 1980 that never happened. An architecture of broken dreams.”"
"She was talking about those odds and ends of “futuristic” Thirties and Forties architecture you pass daily in American cities without noticing: the movie marquees ribbed to radiate some mysterious energy, the dime stores faced with fluted aluminum, the chrome-tube chairs gathering dust in the lobbies of transient hotels. She saw these things as segments of a dreamworld, abandoned in the uncaring present; she wanted me to photograph them for her."
He starts in the American West and what he finds fills him first with loathing:
"When I isolated a few of the factory buildings on the ground glass of the Hasselblad, they came across with a kind of sinister totalitarian dignity, like the stadiums Albert Speer built for Hitler."
"Wright’s building looked as though it had been designed for people who wore white togas and Lucite sandals."
"It had all the sinister fruitiness of Hitler Youth propaganda."
Then that loathing becomes fear as the “barrier” between the current and the “imagined future” seems to melt away. Sharing his “problems” with a friend only gets him the following: "“Quit yelling and listen to me. I’m letting you in on a trade secret: Really bad media can exorcize your semiotic ghosts. If it keeps the saucer people off my back, it can keep these Art Deco futuroids off yours. Try it. What have you got to lose?”"
He considers dropping the assignment: "I considered putting a collect call through to London, getting Cohen at Barris-Watford and telling him his photographer was checked out for a protracted season in the Twilight Zone."
The story may be less significant than what it provides as insight into one of the key authors in the “cyberpunk” genre.
"The designers were populists, you see; they were trying to give the public what it wanted. What the public wanted was the future.”"
3.5
I noted in that review the interesting things and cultural changes were “predicted” in that novel and had already come to pass.
In this shorter piece from the same period, we have a different Gibson; one who is angry at other’s futuristic visions.
Our protagonist is a commercial photographer who is hired to “amp up” an author’s visions.
"“Think of it,” Dialta Downes had said, “as a kind of alternate America: a 1980 that never happened. An architecture of broken dreams.”"
"She was talking about those odds and ends of “futuristic” Thirties and Forties architecture you pass daily in American cities without noticing: the movie marquees ribbed to radiate some mysterious energy, the dime stores faced with fluted aluminum, the chrome-tube chairs gathering dust in the lobbies of transient hotels. She saw these things as segments of a dreamworld, abandoned in the uncaring present; she wanted me to photograph them for her."
He starts in the American West and what he finds fills him first with loathing:
"When I isolated a few of the factory buildings on the ground glass of the Hasselblad, they came across with a kind of sinister totalitarian dignity, like the stadiums Albert Speer built for Hitler."
"Wright’s building looked as though it had been designed for people who wore white togas and Lucite sandals."
"It had all the sinister fruitiness of Hitler Youth propaganda."
Then that loathing becomes fear as the “barrier” between the current and the “imagined future” seems to melt away. Sharing his “problems” with a friend only gets him the following: "“Quit yelling and listen to me. I’m letting you in on a trade secret: Really bad media can exorcize your semiotic ghosts. If it keeps the saucer people off my back, it can keep these Art Deco futuroids off yours. Try it. What have you got to lose?”"
He considers dropping the assignment: "I considered putting a collect call through to London, getting Cohen at Barris-Watford and telling him his photographer was checked out for a protracted season in the Twilight Zone."
The story may be less significant than what it provides as insight into one of the key authors in the “cyberpunk” genre.
"The designers were populists, you see; they were trying to give the public what it wanted. What the public wanted was the future.”"
3.5
November 14, 2022
“Think of it as a kind of alternate America: a 1980s that never happened. An architecture of broken dreams.”
A photographer, hired to chronicle the last vestiges of 1930s futuristic architecture for a project called The Airstream Futuropolis: The Tomorrow That Never Was, slips through the membrane of possibility and begins to see semiotic ghosts of a world where that vision is reality.
Very short and atmospheric.
A photographer, hired to chronicle the last vestiges of 1930s futuristic architecture for a project called The Airstream Futuropolis: The Tomorrow That Never Was, slips through the membrane of possibility and begins to see semiotic ghosts of a world where that vision is reality.
Very short and atmospheric.
September 24, 2023
Hearing snippets, and tidbits about it, I've been looking for the name, and finally this short story for years.
The title refers to Hugo Gernsback, an early twentieth century pulp fiction editor whose bold stories shaped our collective imagination of the future with his raygun-gothic chrome curves and crystal spires. The 'continuum' refers to a conceptual space, an alternative universe that exists alongside our own - and occasionally intersects with our 'real' world.
The 'continuum' refers to an abstract space, an alternative universe that exists alongside our own - and occasionally intersects with our 'real' world. This space can have a range of probabilities from the most concrete and sensible to the most abstract and fantastic visions of public life. The Gernsback Continuum is a broad arc of intersecting futures with alternative implications for public life.
The protagonist in Gibson's short story is a photographer is contracted to photograph examples of art deco architecture along the West Coast. As our narrator follows the 'broken dreams', (the rotting, buildings of a future that never was) he loses contact with the artifacts of his 'real' world. The real public life of his 1980s America, with its crime, nuclear threats and pending environmental collapse, seems to be replaced by fragments of an alternative 1980s-that-wasn't. He is being haunted by 'semiotic ghosts'. The futures predicted for us by the past.
We have all, at sometime in our lives, recognized, that the past as we see it is now that it was. Some of us even fight for a better yesterday that never was. This short story illustrates how popular culture and public life are heterogeneous; they are not stable, solid, immutable forces. Rather, our notion of the world is layers of alternate past futures stitched together.
The title refers to Hugo Gernsback, an early twentieth century pulp fiction editor whose bold stories shaped our collective imagination of the future with his raygun-gothic chrome curves and crystal spires. The 'continuum' refers to a conceptual space, an alternative universe that exists alongside our own - and occasionally intersects with our 'real' world.
The 'continuum' refers to an abstract space, an alternative universe that exists alongside our own - and occasionally intersects with our 'real' world. This space can have a range of probabilities from the most concrete and sensible to the most abstract and fantastic visions of public life. The Gernsback Continuum is a broad arc of intersecting futures with alternative implications for public life.
The protagonist in Gibson's short story is a photographer is contracted to photograph examples of art deco architecture along the West Coast. As our narrator follows the 'broken dreams', (the rotting, buildings of a future that never was) he loses contact with the artifacts of his 'real' world. The real public life of his 1980s America, with its crime, nuclear threats and pending environmental collapse, seems to be replaced by fragments of an alternative 1980s-that-wasn't. He is being haunted by 'semiotic ghosts'. The futures predicted for us by the past.
We have all, at sometime in our lives, recognized, that the past as we see it is now that it was. Some of us even fight for a better yesterday that never was. This short story illustrates how popular culture and public life are heterogeneous; they are not stable, solid, immutable forces. Rather, our notion of the world is layers of alternate past futures stitched together.
Read
January 11, 2024Mi única motivación para el examen de mañana es poner en goodreads las lecturas obligatorias y ver que otra gente ha dicho de ellas. Pensaba que muchas más personas habrían puesto reseñas en esta historia y no!! En fin cyberpunk, el futuro de un pasado que no existe etc Qué significado podemos encontrar en el final de la historia?? Pues es seguramente lo que me pregunten mañana y no tengo ni idea!! En fin un beso
October 22, 2025
made me want to write an essay about socialism adopting all types of modernist art/architecture and the incredible metaphor that is
January 28, 2025
The Gernsback continuum
“The future had come to America first, but had finally passed it by”
That’s not technically a review, I was just trying to figure out what Gibson tried to tell us with this one.
So, let’s start with the name of the story first. Hugo Gernsback - an editor and publisher of the first ever magazine completely devoted to science fiction - Amazing Stories. Also he started the world's first magazine about electronics and radio - Modern Electrics. He is regarded by some as one of the Fathers of Science fiction. There is also a Hugo award for the best science fiction or fantasy work, given at the World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon), named in guess whose honor.
So, Gernsback is the father of science fiction. Then what's continuum?
In this story the word had been used in the same sense it was later used in Back to the Future II. So it is an alternative branch of events, in the sense of "what would happen, how would the world look like if something in the past had happened differently".
The story is just 11 pages long in the "Burning Chrome" collection. It follows a freelance photographer, who lives in the world we know, who is assigned to make a series of shots of what was remaining of buildings of futuristic design that was popular in the USA during the 1930s and 1940s. These sleek streamlined buildings were embodiment of peoples dreams - dreams of an abundant future where all hard labor is done by robots, everything you need you can get just by pushing a button, where you feed your hunger by a tiny pill containing all the necessary nutrients, where people move around in flying cars and rockets etc. So, the way in which writers in this "Amazing stories" magazine edited by Hugo Gernsback saw the future.
Funny enough, Gibson saw the future differently. Not in this exact story, but in his classic cyberpunk works like Johnny Mnemonic and others. He saw high tech coexisting not with abundance and joy, but with corporations and thugs controlling everything and everyone whereas the rest of the people are trying to adapt and survive in the bleak and cruel world full of advanced technology.
But back to the story. Our photographer meets his client who shows him examples of these buildings. While looking at the pictures, he compares those buildings to theatrical "elaborate props for playing at living in the future". This is how we learn he doesn’t appreciate this style, regards it superficial. The new shape for the old things. However, the client is obsessed with them and calls it “architecture of broken dreams”.
Anyway, our guy takes the task and flies back to the USA to take a trip across Arizona and California, chasing the vestiges of these dreams. As he finds the first buildings to take pictures of, he continues to share his distaste for them. A few he finds impressive, but "...the rest of it was relentlessly tacky: ephemeral stuff extruded by the collective American subconsciousness of the Thirties, tending mostly to survive along depressing strips lined with dusty motels, mattress wholesalers, and small used-car lots". Here we have this juxtaposition between sweet dreams and the bleak reality.
Then he decides to go for gas stations. Yes, some of them also looked like they were from "The Jetsons" cartoon. However, the protagonist stays unimpressed by their futuristic look. "I shot one in San Jose an hour before the bulldozers arrived and drove right through the structural truth of plaster and lathing and cheap concrete." Whereas some people saw inspiration for the great future in such buildings, Gibson looked through them and saw them for what they really were - cheap concrete.
He then doubles down on disappointment by the contrast between the dreams of technological paradise that these buildings were inspiring for and the bleak reality that we have in spite of all this inspiration. "I found myself wondering what the inhabitants of that lost future would think of the world I lived in. The Thirties dreamed white marble and slip stream chrome, immortal crystal and burnished bronze, but the rockets on the covers of the Gernsback pulps had fallen on London in the dead of night, screaming." So, instead of rockets that take humanity to distant planets we got rockets that devastate cities and kill hundreds of thousands.
Then there is a plot twist. During his trip, the photographer starts hallucinating. At times he sees things from another world, the world envisioned by all these architects - a future that never materialized in our world. He is not sure if these visions are real, or he is just tripping, or what's happening. It's like he can take a sneak peak into a parallel universe, where all that bright future with flying cars came true, the future as it was envisioned in Amazing stories - the Gernsback continuum. He is worried, but continues to do his job.
Starting from here the story gives you some good vibes of Hunter Thompson's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas", where the protagonist was also a freelancer working on a task, which he tries to carry out while constantly tripping and hallucinating and ruminating of what became to American Dream. Our photographer is in the same position, but he is busy thinking, I guess, about flying cars never came true.
Then he shares his worries about strange visions to his friend, a fellow freelancer journalist, Mervyn Kihn, who suggests watching some porn or badly made television shows to get a grip on the reality. Which is also, I can’t exactly say why, feels like a nice Fear-and-Loathing-esque touch.
There is nothing much more happening afterwards, though. The unnamed photographer sends the pictures and takes a break from work in order to watch some bad television as he was advised. And, as he shares in the first paragraph of the story, it helped a lot. Helped a lot to forget that we don't live in this future as it was envisioned in "Amazing stories".
I didn’t make much out of this story when I first read it. However, after reading some reviews, discussions, watching a couple of videos on YouTube and reading the story for the second time, I liked it much more. Still, I can’t say for sure what message Gibson was trying to get across. Is this story about how reality came out much worse then people envisioned it in 1930-1940?
You could think at first that it is lamenting over those broken dreams, or that we were promised a great future, but the reality came out totally different. However, the ending hints at something different. At the end of the story a newspaper seller says to our character “Hell of a world we live in, huh? <...> But it could be worse, right?”. And the photographer replies “That’s right. Or even worse, it could be perfect”.
Or is it something deeper? What are your thoughts on this?
So I watched another couple of reviews and finally started to see what this was about. Let's get back to two things here. First, throughout the story we see that the main character doesn't appreciate this futuristic architecture. A few times he portrays for us this contrast between what these buildings hint on: a great future for everyone, technologies used to make humanity explore space and get more and more prosper, and what we actually get: technological progress that is used for mass destruction, pollution by cars and factories, wars etc.
Second thing is the ending, where the photographer replies to the newsstand's owner that reality could be even worse - it could be perfect.
So some say that the photographer's dislike of the futuristic world envisioned by Gernsback/"Amazing Stories" writers is actually Gibson's dislike for science fiction that only imagined the future in positive ways. And that his message is a spark of what later becomes Cyberpunk - also science fiction, but that one that explores not other planets, but how technologies lead to a dystopian world instead of prosperity.
From this point of view the story seems like a rebellion against that optimistic outlook for the future presented by "Amazing Stories" by soon-to-become pioneer and main driving force of cyberpunk.
This looks completely plausible, though, as a fan of Philip Dick, I can't say I understand the point exactly, because boy he liked to explore all the possible ways people can fuck up everything they have with new advanced technologies: robots, AI, automatic weapons, etc. And did it way before the 1980s.
“The future had come to America first, but had finally passed it by”
That’s not technically a review, I was just trying to figure out what Gibson tried to tell us with this one.
So, let’s start with the name of the story first. Hugo Gernsback - an editor and publisher of the first ever magazine completely devoted to science fiction - Amazing Stories. Also he started the world's first magazine about electronics and radio - Modern Electrics. He is regarded by some as one of the Fathers of Science fiction. There is also a Hugo award for the best science fiction or fantasy work, given at the World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon), named in guess whose honor.
So, Gernsback is the father of science fiction. Then what's continuum?
In this story the word had been used in the same sense it was later used in Back to the Future II. So it is an alternative branch of events, in the sense of "what would happen, how would the world look like if something in the past had happened differently".
The story is just 11 pages long in the "Burning Chrome" collection. It follows a freelance photographer, who lives in the world we know, who is assigned to make a series of shots of what was remaining of buildings of futuristic design that was popular in the USA during the 1930s and 1940s. These sleek streamlined buildings were embodiment of peoples dreams - dreams of an abundant future where all hard labor is done by robots, everything you need you can get just by pushing a button, where you feed your hunger by a tiny pill containing all the necessary nutrients, where people move around in flying cars and rockets etc. So, the way in which writers in this "Amazing stories" magazine edited by Hugo Gernsback saw the future.
Funny enough, Gibson saw the future differently. Not in this exact story, but in his classic cyberpunk works like Johnny Mnemonic and others. He saw high tech coexisting not with abundance and joy, but with corporations and thugs controlling everything and everyone whereas the rest of the people are trying to adapt and survive in the bleak and cruel world full of advanced technology.
But back to the story. Our photographer meets his client who shows him examples of these buildings. While looking at the pictures, he compares those buildings to theatrical "elaborate props for playing at living in the future". This is how we learn he doesn’t appreciate this style, regards it superficial. The new shape for the old things. However, the client is obsessed with them and calls it “architecture of broken dreams”.
Anyway, our guy takes the task and flies back to the USA to take a trip across Arizona and California, chasing the vestiges of these dreams. As he finds the first buildings to take pictures of, he continues to share his distaste for them. A few he finds impressive, but "...the rest of it was relentlessly tacky: ephemeral stuff extruded by the collective American subconsciousness of the Thirties, tending mostly to survive along depressing strips lined with dusty motels, mattress wholesalers, and small used-car lots". Here we have this juxtaposition between sweet dreams and the bleak reality.
Then he decides to go for gas stations. Yes, some of them also looked like they were from "The Jetsons" cartoon. However, the protagonist stays unimpressed by their futuristic look. "I shot one in San Jose an hour before the bulldozers arrived and drove right through the structural truth of plaster and lathing and cheap concrete." Whereas some people saw inspiration for the great future in such buildings, Gibson looked through them and saw them for what they really were - cheap concrete.
He then doubles down on disappointment by the contrast between the dreams of technological paradise that these buildings were inspiring for and the bleak reality that we have in spite of all this inspiration. "I found myself wondering what the inhabitants of that lost future would think of the world I lived in. The Thirties dreamed white marble and slip stream chrome, immortal crystal and burnished bronze, but the rockets on the covers of the Gernsback pulps had fallen on London in the dead of night, screaming." So, instead of rockets that take humanity to distant planets we got rockets that devastate cities and kill hundreds of thousands.
Then there is a plot twist. During his trip, the photographer starts hallucinating. At times he sees things from another world, the world envisioned by all these architects - a future that never materialized in our world. He is not sure if these visions are real, or he is just tripping, or what's happening. It's like he can take a sneak peak into a parallel universe, where all that bright future with flying cars came true, the future as it was envisioned in Amazing stories - the Gernsback continuum. He is worried, but continues to do his job.
Starting from here the story gives you some good vibes of Hunter Thompson's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas", where the protagonist was also a freelancer working on a task, which he tries to carry out while constantly tripping and hallucinating and ruminating of what became to American Dream. Our photographer is in the same position, but he is busy thinking, I guess, about flying cars never came true.
Then he shares his worries about strange visions to his friend, a fellow freelancer journalist, Mervyn Kihn, who suggests watching some porn or badly made television shows to get a grip on the reality. Which is also, I can’t exactly say why, feels like a nice Fear-and-Loathing-esque touch.
There is nothing much more happening afterwards, though. The unnamed photographer sends the pictures and takes a break from work in order to watch some bad television as he was advised. And, as he shares in the first paragraph of the story, it helped a lot. Helped a lot to forget that we don't live in this future as it was envisioned in "Amazing stories".
I didn’t make much out of this story when I first read it. However, after reading some reviews, discussions, watching a couple of videos on YouTube and reading the story for the second time, I liked it much more. Still, I can’t say for sure what message Gibson was trying to get across. Is this story about how reality came out much worse then people envisioned it in 1930-1940?
You could think at first that it is lamenting over those broken dreams, or that we were promised a great future, but the reality came out totally different. However, the ending hints at something different. At the end of the story a newspaper seller says to our character “Hell of a world we live in, huh? <...> But it could be worse, right?”. And the photographer replies “That’s right. Or even worse, it could be perfect”.
Or is it something deeper? What are your thoughts on this?
So I watched another couple of reviews and finally started to see what this was about. Let's get back to two things here. First, throughout the story we see that the main character doesn't appreciate this futuristic architecture. A few times he portrays for us this contrast between what these buildings hint on: a great future for everyone, technologies used to make humanity explore space and get more and more prosper, and what we actually get: technological progress that is used for mass destruction, pollution by cars and factories, wars etc.
Second thing is the ending, where the photographer replies to the newsstand's owner that reality could be even worse - it could be perfect.
So some say that the photographer's dislike of the futuristic world envisioned by Gernsback/"Amazing Stories" writers is actually Gibson's dislike for science fiction that only imagined the future in positive ways. And that his message is a spark of what later becomes Cyberpunk - also science fiction, but that one that explores not other planets, but how technologies lead to a dystopian world instead of prosperity.
From this point of view the story seems like a rebellion against that optimistic outlook for the future presented by "Amazing Stories" by soon-to-become pioneer and main driving force of cyberpunk.
This looks completely plausible, though, as a fan of Philip Dick, I can't say I understand the point exactly, because boy he liked to explore all the possible ways people can fuck up everything they have with new advanced technologies: robots, AI, automatic weapons, etc. And did it way before the 1980s.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 2, 2018
Langweilig, verwirrend. Echt nicht meins.
June 10, 2023
This captures the "future that never was" melancholy and bitter sweetness I felt growing up in the 80s and 90s. This story mirrors the feeling that inspired video games such as Fallout III that I've grown to love more than most books. Like most art, this story will not resonate with the majority, but for those few it does, we're reminded we're not alone.
May 5, 2025
The first short story in 'The Big Book of Cyberpunk.'
At only 11 pages, it had very surface level plot and characters. It did, however, give a glimpse of where the cyberpunk genre started and thats cool to see.
At only 11 pages, it had very surface level plot and characters. It did, however, give a glimpse of where the cyberpunk genre started and thats cool to see.
September 24, 2025
It’s a short story I probably read when it first came out. I was a big fan of William Gibson starting with “Neuromancer”. The reason I went back to it (via Internet Archive) was its mention at the start of Shanghai Future, which I’m finally getting to.
November 15, 2021
Abstract short about architecture with no story to be found.
September 12, 2022
he saw the castle in the sky and went crazy fr!
October 1, 2022
Short but plenty of nonsense on futuristic architecture, nazis and porn so naturally it had to be read and receive a minimum of 4 stars by Jacob Max Kelly.
May 6, 2023
lowest key zero escape vibes
October 22, 2024
(Included in The Time Traveler's Almanac)
October 18, 2025
A eulogy to generational dreams is brought back down to earth with a painful shot of reality.
November 17, 2025
I’m overstimulated and confused.
September 7, 2025
6/10
I love Gibson, and I love his prose. But you can tell it’s still rough here a work in progress, it’s not bad for sure but it’s not great.
I love Gibson, and I love his prose. But you can tell it’s still rough here a work in progress, it’s not bad for sure but it’s not great.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews