A couple of weeks ago I went to see William Gibson. It was one of those readings where he read something from a new work [then there's an interview by a Mother Jones editor; then some time for a Q&A. I stood in line for over an hour to get my two books signed. He's holding my copy of Count Zero. I bought it over 30 years ago.
I've been listening to Kate Bush as I drive around running errands. I probably discovered her about the same time that I started reading Gibson, sometime in the middle of the 80s. I remember the first time I heard her. I was in a brewpub up north of UW in Seattle. They had a menu on the wall with the different beers arranged on coordinates like hoppy, malty, light, and dark. It was big bullseye on a cream colored wall. I was probably drinking some ale or other when "Running Up That Hill" started playing. I don't remember whether I asked the bartender what it was, but I know that I went out and bought Hounds of Love and The Whole Story which has "Wuthering Heights" on it. Anyone who thought that Bronté's weird, Gothic work should be a pop song is the artist for me. From then on I've bought every album Bush has put out.
Likewise I've bought every piece of fiction that Gibson has published since Neuromancer. Sticking with an artist over a long time shows how they change. The work, though always recognizable, shifts focus, emphasis, ambition. The concerns of a young person evolves into the interests of a middle aged, then nearly old person. Growing older with artists is an unexpected gift. Their interests grow and shift, but there's always something recognizable there, something that is familiar, right next to the thing that is new, unexpected.
Maybe when we get older we're able to understand things with greater nuance, with broader and in more complex contexts. There's always a constant, in us as readers, as audience, in the work. We often love now what we loved then, even if we and the work are no longer quite the same.
When Gibson was finished signing my books, I thanked him for years of pleasure. He smiled. He thanked me too.
