Like William Gibson, Neal Stephenson has stopped writing about the future, and started writing about the present. I can't tell if this is a common condition that afflicts aging authors, or if our present is best seen through cyberpunk goggles.

What I can say is that this is both Stephenson's most mature novel, and in some ways the most shallow. The characterization is little heftier, the writing a little darker. Not in a grim in a gritty sense, but the tone shades away from whiz-bang coolness to a more considered and nostalgic meditation on life and accomplishment. There are still the kinds of brain-explosions that made Snow Crash an instant classic, but they're spaced further apart; punchlines rather than mainlines.

Some of the characters and topics will be familiar to Stephenson junkies; hackers, soldiers, spies, and spunky hostages; virtual worlds, electronic finance, international intrigue; China and the Pacific Northwest. But they're Stephenson's natural raw materials, and there's no searching for the right voice like there was in Anathem or The Baroque Cycle.

And of course, being Stephenson, he knows how to keep the plot moving. Reamde is much lighter on the long diversions into math, philosophy, and Sumerian mythologies which punctuate other Stephenson novels. Extended multi-POV gunfights take their place, and if you're not a big fan of firefights (I love gun crap, personally), this might not be your cup of tea. This isn't a novel about Big Ideas in the classic SF sense, but on the other hand, sometimes we just want some nice easy novel that manages to tie everything up in a big, climatic, gunfight. Huzzah!