Michael Berry, blogs that ("Science fiction columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle.") William Gibson Cracks Me Up:
William Gibson’s new novel, “Spook Country,” arrives in stores later this month. I’ve read it, but I’m unsure when, if or how I’ll review it. It’s good, but not a real ground-breaker like “Pattern Recognition.”
It’s taken me a long time to appreciate the author of "Neuromancer," mostly because I've been too focused on the wrong elements of his fiction. The days of cyberpunk are long over, but Gibson has retooled his technique to embrace the absurdity of post-9/11 America. He's consistently funny, but usually in a very understated way.
It is interesting to see that this reviewer has noted some understated humour in Spook Country.
He picks out a few quotes:
On meeting an impressive old man:
Hollis thought he looked a little like William Burroughs, minus the bohemian substrate (or perhaps the methadone). Like someone who'd be invited quail shooting with the vice-president, though too careful to get himself shot.
On riding in a Zodiac:
This wasn't the Staten Island Ferry. He was bouncing along at some insane speed on something that reminded him of a creepy folding rubber bathtub he'd once seen Vladimir Nabokov proudly posing with in an old photograph.
On Gallic body language:
Odile shrugged, in that complexly French way that seemed to require a slightly different skeletal structure.