Provenance: Unsure. I got this book in hardback back in '91, which means I was living in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin at the time. While we had a small bookstore in town (The Breadloaf), but I think I probably got it in hardback up at one of the big chains in Milwaukee (Waldens. B.Daltons, Borders, and Barnes & Nobles).
Review: This one is going to be a be scattershot, and I have a bunch to say, so let me divvy it add up for easier digestion.
i. A forgotten book
I have what a friend described as a perfectly average library. Books I really like I press into the hands of others. Books I don't like I donate to libraries or sell to used bookstores. Yet those that remain are memory-enhancers. I look at the shelves, and can usually tell what the book was about without much rummaging through my mental attic. The presence of a physical book brings back memories in a way that a file folder cannot.
But this one, not so much. I know I had read work by Gibson (Neuromancer) and Sterling (Involution Ocean) before picking this up. Both authors were the bannermen and bleeding edge of the cyberpunk movement, coming out of the Austin Writing Mafia (I think I still have a button identifying them as such). And this one flips from a dark future to an alternate past, and is in my opinion the first of the modern Steampunk genre.
ii. On genre
I've said this elsewhere, but genre is a marketing term. It is very much "if you liked X, you'll like Y". And indeed, the Cyberpunk movement gathered together a group of similar writers (many of them from Austin) and formed an Sf subgenre of it.
In the light opera Pirates of Penzance, the Modern Major General buys his estate and title, and in the process buys his ancestors as well who came with the place. In the same way, genre creates its own predecessors, who may not have been connected with the process. Mary Shelley wrote gothic romances, not SF or horror. And Jules Verne and HG Wells were writing adventure fiction because no one thought of it as Science Fiction in those days, though we look at their books as being precursors of Steampunk. And "SF set in the Victorian Age" is a good touchstone for this, though these guys were writing in the Victorian Age.
Another predecessor, one that is closer to what I think of as Steampunk were the Edisonades (which you may or may not have heard of). These were adventure fiction of the early pulps, which usually involved some young genius (some of the featured a young and fictitious Thomas Edison) who explored the west and fought Native Americans with the aide of steam-powered robots. So we're closing in on the definition. And yeah, that feels Steampunky, and are part of the evolution of the genre.
But Bruce Sterling (one of the authors here) defined Cyberpunk as "Where the technology meets the street". It is not just cool tech, but rather an attitude as that tech moves into the mainstream, and is used by the populace for purposes not intended by their creators. A real-world example were the pagers in the 80s, which were a pre-cellphone invention to tell you you were needed on the (usually landline) phone. When they first showed up, they were posited to be used by doctors who might be needed in surgery. And they ended up being used for drug deals once everyday people got ahold of them. So the various "'punk" genres have that sense of utility to them. It's not all about dirigibles and land fortresses, its about how it affects the inhabitants of that genre.
Anyway, The Difference Engine is definitely in the Steampunk vein, and I think I can make a claim that its the definitive modern Steampunk novel, though that term would not come into common usage until later (with the joke -"Steampunk is what happens when goths discover the color brown"). This is serious tech, and how it involves the world in ways that were not anticipated.
iii. Oh, what a world that has such creatures in it
We could easily drop The Difference Engine into the "alternate history" genre, and it fits snugly there as well (indeed, the blurbs for it key in on that). And the alternate that it proposes is one where Charles Babbage gets his analytical engine in gear back in the 1820s (in our world, the plan broke down and this initial engine was never completed). The result of this is a world driven by steam and clockwork gears as opposed to electricity and gasoline. Its an analog world with massive calculating engines figuring everything, resulting in an authoritarian merit-based dystopia where the populace have citizenship numbers. Babbage and Lord Byron are running the works, while figures like Disraeli are writers and the poet John Keats is doing analog powerpoint slides.
The time of the novel is 1855. Maps of the world are provided in the endpapers. London and Paris are allies under their individual national thinking machines. The US has broken up and the Confederacy arrives early. New York is a commune like Paris in the 1870s. Texas is independent but rebelling against French Mexico. California is a republic, and most of the west is still "unorganized territory". Japan is developing the next level of tech with coiled springs and whalebone. We don't get a timeline here, or even a definite point where it all diverges. It just does create an alternate world.
iv. There's a plot in here, right?
Oh, yeah, we have a plot. We've three separate protagonists, each of which spend their time on the stage, fade from the narrative, then pop up again later. Sybil Gerald is a prostitute who falls in with the PR man working for an exiled Sam Houston. Edward Mallory is a paleontologist who discovered the brontosaurus fossils in the Wild West and has returned to London to present his findings. Laurence Oliphant is a mysterious government agent who is threatened by forces within and without. All of them come into contact with a deck of programming cards, of unknown origin, which bounces from person to person throughout the novel.
And as in a lot of cyberpunk, the story is full of incidents and accidents, which may or may not have to do with the main characters, but they are swept up into them. There's an assassination attempt on Sam Houston, after which he exits the narrative. A race at the Downs as a test-bed for steam-powered vehicles, and introducing streamlining to the world. The Big Stink, a historic event where London becomes unlivable due to its own waster products, arrives early and suddenly. suffocating the city, causing the upper classes to flee, and creating the foundation for a rebellion. And all of these brush up against our protagonists, even as the deck of cards disappears for a while in all the confusion.
v. Who wrote what?
With books with multiple authors, there's always the temptation to try to figure out who wrote what. In the case of Cormyr: A Novel by Ed Greenwood and myself, Ed wrote the modern sections, I wrote the sections set in the past, then we switched and revised each other. Working with Kate on our Finder's Stone books, we both hammered out the plot, then I wrote the first draft and she turned it into English. And the Beatles have Paul songs and John songs but most are Lennon & McCartney. But its a chancy mind problem and guesswork at best.
Still, there are some fingerprints of the authors from their other works. William Gibson is noticeable in the presence of a mysterious McGuffin (the cards) and the idea of a final revelation that shows up what is really happening in the book behind all the incidents and accidents we encounter. The writing style and historicity feels a lot more like Bruce Sterling, who delves a lot more into the style of previous eras (indeed, Sybil comes to us sideways from a Benjamin Disraeli novel), and the level of detail and accuracy on reporting the life and times of the Victorian age.
But that's just a guess. Every collaboration creates a new form, format, and style, and this must be judged as a separate chimera from its individual creators..
vi. Why is this a forgotten book?
I don't know if it is truly forgotten - I'm going through the Internet and seeing numerous editions of it. But it doesn't seem to have the effect of Mirrorshades or Mona Lisa Overdrive did on the body literate in general. And they may be a couple reasons for it. The book's heavier than most cyberpunky tomes, and its language is deep and involved, mimicking the tone of stuff truly from the Victorian Age. Plus the level of detail is such that a post 20th century reader would be well-warned to keep the Wikipedia at hand to explains crinolines, portmanteaus, dollymops, and the various classes of London Society. Plus a map of London of the period would aid as well, since the characters cross through it great detail.
Yet the book has value for the modern reader. It foreshadows a lot of developments in our after-the-Millenium world. The Radical Lords are techbros in the 1800s. We're developing large language models and using them to bet in a burgeoning prediction market. Even more so now than then, we can be tracked by our purchases, our numbers, and our faces. Extreme databases on all of us are currently at large, along with cultural hackers that can make use of this endless supply of data to our own ends. And the book really sings with the promise of an unevenly-distributed apocalypse.
So Difference Engine oddly has more resonance now than thirty years ago when I first read it, and then forgot about it. It was worth a visit, and it should return to the shelf else it slips from organic memory once more.
More later,
