Neuromancer stood in my (current) local library among many other exhibits of the sci-fi genre. I don't really read much of that, although I did recognize We by Yevgeny Zamyatin, and some Ursula K. Le Guin. But Neuromancer was the only book in the English language — and I'm having too much Danish as of late! — and so I brought it home.

During the ensuing week, Baader-Meinhof phenomenon all over; in the websites that I visit, other adjacent references (like the photograph below, which really is about the lady that only wears green — in New York, wherever else?); people shared how difficult reading Gibson is, and indeed I found it confusing, but only later did I associate that it is the same kind of confusion one has from Thomas Pynchon...

The book is tremendously fun. The edition I got ahold of — the same as in the metro picture — finishes with a kind afterword from one of Gibson's friends, himself a writer whose name I unfortunately don't recall; and it is a sort of testament to their friendship, and it — well, it really is not much about Necromancer the book — but it was rather touching.