Neal Stephenson’s latest book, The Confusion, second in the continuing Baroque Cycle, was released this week and, although I haven’t picked it up yet, I’m really looking forward to reading it. I’m currently slogging through the first book in the series, Quicksilver, and, while it’s over 900 pages long, I’m enjoying it quite a bit. It’s a diversion from Stephenson’s usual fare, in that it takes place in the 16th and 17th centuries. It’s still about geeks, though. Just Scientific Revolution geeks.
I was reminded of this because the first review of the book popped up on Slashdot the other day. As anyone who has spent any appreciable amount of time in the comments sections of Slashdot could tell you, there are many Stephenson fans amongst the /. population, so I ventured into the comments, expecting more of the same Stephenson fanboyism that I’ve come to expect. I was extremely surprised by what I saw.
Comment after comment fas rife with criticism of Quicksilver. Most didn’t seem to get it, many didn’t find it entertaining and there were few who seemed to have even gotten more than 300 pages into it. As I said, I came away from the whole affair very surprised and a bit confused. How could a population of people who normally “got” an author’s work suddenly feel cold towards that author? What was so different about Quicksilver?
As I pondered it further, I realized something: most of the /. reading population tends to be non/anti-religious, almost reflexively so. One of the protagonists of Quicksilver, Daniel Waterhouse, was a Protestant dissenter and the son of a famous Barker and so much of the narrative is infused with very subtle, extremely funny (in my humble opinion) observations made by Waterhouse. However, much of this humor would fly right over the heads of someone not familiar with Protestant (and especially Calvinist) theology and the ways in which that theology tends to affect thought patterns on life.
Stephenson has generally shown an ability to know his readers and target them fairly efficiently, at least until the final chapter or so. Then, like a Monty Python film, all bets are off and you’re likely to end up with an abrupt, random end that some will call brilliant and most will find annoying. I’m left wondering if, perhaps, Stephenson may have misjudged his past audience’s tastes and tolerances.
In the end, though, I’m enjoying it, my wife liked it, and Glenn Reynolds gave it a hearty thumbs up. Take from that what you will.
