Idoru (Score 1)

I just finished Idoru, by William Gibson. He writes like Raymond Chandler on hallucinogens, prose spare and jarringly beatiful. Here's a sample:

Between stations there was a gray shudder beyond the windows of the silent train. Not as of surfaces rushing past, but as if particulate matter were being vibrated there at some crucial rate, just prior to the emergence of a new order of being.

Lines like that make my teeth sweat. Just amazing Of course, the first sentence Gibson gave the world was "The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel," so I suppose it's time to stop being impressed and start taking his skill in stride. But: some things you just don't get used to. Thankfully.