Semantic Apocalypse
“For Professor Skeat, psychopaths were nothing less than the horsemen of the apocalypse. Contemporary culture had digested the meaninglessness of natural events, the fact that they were indifferent to all things human. A few stubborn fools still shook their fists at God, but most simply shrugged their shoulders. Most knew better, no matter how ardently they prayed. What made psychopaths so indigestible, Skeat claimed, what drove culture to slather them with layer after of layer of cinematic and textual pearl, was that they were humans who were indifferent to all things human. They were natural disasters personified. They were the walking gnosis, secret knowledge, an expression of the nihilistic truth of existence.” (pg 167)
Although I'd finished the Neuropath more than a month ago, I had been meaning to discuss it, because it is perhaps the only thriller I've ever read that delivers what the cover promises - it's frightening. But this fact has nothing to do that is is written as a stereotypical thriller with stock characters like the bitter divorcee, the spunky FBI agent who the protagonist falls for, the psychopathic genius serial killer and the mile a minute plot, but is frightening because of the Argument. More about this in a moment though.
Neuropath is from Scott Bakker, better known as R Scott Bakker, author of the philosophically dense Prince of Nothing fantasy series. I bought the novel because I was wonder what the hell he was doing not working on the next book in his fantasy series. I don't normally read thrillers, mainly so I was unhappy that Bakker was writing this, even if it was at the behest of his wife, who doesn't really like epic fantasy. However, I should have had faith in Bakker, that his talent would shine through, and it did.
The author's note before the novel begins ominously announces one of the themes of the book, that “we are not what we think we are.” This prepares us for the Argument, which in short is that we are blind to most of our mental processes, and blind in such a way that we don't even miss it, much like there is no noticeable “edge” to one's field of vision. Basically, we consciously experience environmental inputs and behavioral outputs, but are not aware of what happens in between. We experience our behavior as “free”, in non causal terms, unlike how we see the rest of the world. When observing the environment, including the other humans in it, we asked “what caused it?”, but when we observe ourselves, it's always “I caused”, when we should be asking the same question about ourselves. Essentially the Argument posits that consciousness is an illusion, born of the hypothesis that we do not see our brains at work, and everything like spirituality, love and identity itself are just ghosts in the machine. Bakker discusses this at length (but still shorter than the novel) in a lecture he gave last November. It's well worth the read.
The novel, which is set in the near future, explores the implications of this hypothesis as if it were true. A world where the government deals with terrorists by plugging into their brains, making them experience Paradise, posing as Allah and making them joyfully rat out all their comrades. Cheap MRI equipment abounds, targeting adverts based on individual moods. While the actual hypothesis is of Bakker's own creation remains untested, it is not inconsistent with what neuroscience has discovered so far, that we are biochemical machines reacting to stimuli.
The target of all this is identified early on by mentioning “A tasteless story about Ray Kurzweil's recent death.” (pg 29). Bakker elaborates a little more on this in his afterward pointing out that post-human optimists are “advocating what they cannot conceptualize” (pg 302) and because of that “we really have no reason to be anything other than profoundly uncertain.” (pg 303). When basic human experience can be so easily altered with technology, then what inconceivable future, inconceivable because altering one's brain is to surrender one's current frame of reference, awaits us?
In the end, the novel does have an unexpected twist. It doesn't end like a thriller because everything fragments into questions. Morality, motives and meaning. Was the antagonist's response appropriate to this hypothesis, or was he just a psychopath? Can it be said there is good and evil if there is no such thing as free will? How definite are my perceptions? Why is the antagonist named Neil Cassidy? That cannot be unintentional, as both the character and the person attended Columbia University and on page 79 "'Here it is,' Sam interrupted. 'Neil Cassidy's Brain.'/The screen was tiled with neural cross-sections, day-glo colored and shaped like chestnuts." [Cassady drove the dayglo painted bus across America in The Electric Koolaid Acid Test].
Go read it.
Although I'd finished the Neuropath more than a month ago, I had been meaning to discuss it, because it is perhaps the only thriller I've ever read that delivers what the cover promises - it's frightening. But this fact has nothing to do that is is written as a stereotypical thriller with stock characters like the bitter divorcee, the spunky FBI agent who the protagonist falls for, the psychopathic genius serial killer and the mile a minute plot, but is frightening because of the Argument. More about this in a moment though.
Neuropath is from Scott Bakker, better known as R Scott Bakker, author of the philosophically dense Prince of Nothing fantasy series. I bought the novel because I was wonder what the hell he was doing not working on the next book in his fantasy series. I don't normally read thrillers, mainly so I was unhappy that Bakker was writing this, even if it was at the behest of his wife, who doesn't really like epic fantasy. However, I should have had faith in Bakker, that his talent would shine through, and it did.
The author's note before the novel begins ominously announces one of the themes of the book, that “we are not what we think we are.” This prepares us for the Argument, which in short is that we are blind to most of our mental processes, and blind in such a way that we don't even miss it, much like there is no noticeable “edge” to one's field of vision. Basically, we consciously experience environmental inputs and behavioral outputs, but are not aware of what happens in between. We experience our behavior as “free”, in non causal terms, unlike how we see the rest of the world. When observing the environment, including the other humans in it, we asked “what caused it?”, but when we observe ourselves, it's always “I caused”, when we should be asking the same question about ourselves. Essentially the Argument posits that consciousness is an illusion, born of the hypothesis that we do not see our brains at work, and everything like spirituality, love and identity itself are just ghosts in the machine. Bakker discusses this at length (but still shorter than the novel) in a lecture he gave last November. It's well worth the read.
The novel, which is set in the near future, explores the implications of this hypothesis as if it were true. A world where the government deals with terrorists by plugging into their brains, making them experience Paradise, posing as Allah and making them joyfully rat out all their comrades. Cheap MRI equipment abounds, targeting adverts based on individual moods. While the actual hypothesis is of Bakker's own creation remains untested, it is not inconsistent with what neuroscience has discovered so far, that we are biochemical machines reacting to stimuli.
The target of all this is identified early on by mentioning “A tasteless story about Ray Kurzweil's recent death.” (pg 29). Bakker elaborates a little more on this in his afterward pointing out that post-human optimists are “advocating what they cannot conceptualize” (pg 302) and because of that “we really have no reason to be anything other than profoundly uncertain.” (pg 303). When basic human experience can be so easily altered with technology, then what inconceivable future, inconceivable because altering one's brain is to surrender one's current frame of reference, awaits us?
In the end, the novel does have an unexpected twist. It doesn't end like a thriller because everything fragments into questions. Morality, motives and meaning. Was the antagonist's response appropriate to this hypothesis, or was he just a psychopath? Can it be said there is good and evil if there is no such thing as free will? How definite are my perceptions? Why is the antagonist named Neil Cassidy? That cannot be unintentional, as both the character and the person attended Columbia University and on page 79 "'Here it is,' Sam interrupted. 'Neil Cassidy's Brain.'/The screen was tiled with neural cross-sections, day-glo colored and shaped like chestnuts." [Cassady drove the dayglo painted bus across America in The Electric Koolaid Acid Test].
Go read it.