![]() The concept of re-sleeving disrupts our modern idea of identity because in "Altered Carbon," the physical self ceases to be anything other than a disposable vehicle for the mind. How important are the physical aspects of race, age and gender in a society that treats body swapping as a given? Let's say you're five re-sleeves deep - you've experienced an Asian body, a Caucasian body, a female body, a mixed-race body, a young body, an old body. ![]() What's more, it brings into question notions of identity. Instead, it turns immortality into a tool used by the very rich and powerful to prop up their own self-interests at the expense of others. Here's why the concept of re-sleeving (downloading the mind into a new body) is so powerful: It doesn't offer the vague platitude that, all told, eternal life probably wouldn't be a barrel of laughs as you watch the world crumble around you. It reminds me of Murakami's Dolphin Hotel: deeply peculiar, memorable and a character in its own right. The AI may veer into deus ex machina territory when Kovacs finds himself in a bit of a bind, but the Hendrix is such a fun and frankly useful concept that these weaknesses can be overlooked. Other unexpected features include payments by DNA trace, holographic scans of the entire building for room selection and a deeply knowledgeable AI. Their existence even puzzles Takeshi Kovacs, the novel's protagonist, who is of course saved by their devastating firepower only moments after checking in (more on the violence later). What's not to like?įor some reason the hotel's ceilings are equipped with twin-mounted 20-millimetre autocannons. It's a dilapidated, artificially intelligent hotel with an inexplicably huge hologram of Jimi Hendrix sporting his best blistering guitar solo face for a facade. But can the adaptation deliver a modern mashup of Chandler/Hammett/Morgan set in a cyberpunk universe without feeling, well, a bit ridiculous? I certainly hope so. His writing undoubtedly does a good job of evoking the no-nonsense crime-fiction of old, without feeling trite or out of place. I'd even go so far as to say that if it weren't for the occasional anachronism, you might struggle to differentiate some of Morgan's prose with that of Raymond Chandler or Dashiell Hammett. Except for a few clangers here and there, Morgan mostly presents a convincing take on the style. Yet, in the right hands, some authors can still (kind of) get away with it. ![]() ![]() The hardened, world-weary detective trope is so familiar and so overdone that it's hard to pull off without resorting to pastiche or some sort of intellectualised post-modern metafiction, a la Paul Auster. The Good The whole hard-boiled detective thing ![]()
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