I read the paperback about 20 years ago and it was an interesting glimpse into how easily corporations could mess up an ecosystem by playing god with it. I wouldn't read it a 2nd time however. Once was enough. In short the book presented a depressing look at corporations vs eco-activism... while at the same time providing a convenient ending wherein the baddies all get a taste of justice. A little too convenient. It depicts a realistic and depressing story and then wraps it up with unbelievably convenient ending that will make the hippies happy but ultimately feels fake and overly idealistic. This clash between depressing reality and hippie utopianism is why I am only giving this book 4 stars instead of 5. I enjoyed reading it and I still remember the plot and ending roughly 20 years later, but it isn't a book I would read over again. It is however a book I would give away... to a hippie friend who is in need of reading a book with an idealized ending.

I really enjoy reading Stephenson because of how he writes exciting stories with lots of nerdy technobabble. This book, as one of his earlier novels, lacks some of the polish and plausibility of many of his later ones but is still a fun quick read. Zodiac seems almost autobiographical with his focus on the city of Boston's toxic legacy, following a character Sangamon Taylor who is just out of BU like NS was at the time. ST acts as a nuisance to big corporate polluters until he discovers a web of crime so deep that he becomes labeled a fugitive terrorist and has to flee Boston. Finding several new allies asking the way, he needs to unravel this mystery and catch the crooks.

Omg, I need more! Is there a sequel? Who knew an eco thriller could be so absolutely amazing!

It was ok but a slog. I gave up finally. Interesting to see where he started.

A much better take on a Crichton-esque plotline. Compared to Crichton's pot-boilers this one was much better paced, much less predictable, and had lots more random, hacker-ish mentality science thrown in. I guess that's what happens when a computer geek and nerd-among-nerds writes this kind of plot versus Crichton (a physician).

The book's structure was a little rough in places, and the copy-editor was asleep at the wheel--I can see that this was where Stephenson was still getting practice at writing novels. Overall the book was enjoyable, but not one I'll return to.

«Зодиак», вы удивитесь, — чтение, близкое к идеальному. Главный герой, он же рассказчик — человек знающий, что делает и что делать (мы уже давно для себя поняли, что профессионалы за работой в книгах — это лучше, чем распиздяи за бездельем; особенно если автор знает, о чем говорит; у Пинчона это освежало, здесь — тоже приятно). Мало того — он лихой балагур и отличный рассказчик (опять необходимый дисклеймер: я не знаю, что там в русском переводе творится). А главное, что помимо сюжета — вполне триллерного, с поворотами, подставами, теориями, догадками, тем и этим, присутствует по-настоящему важная и животрепещущая тема: защита природы. Т.е. животрепещущая — это пока еще есть что защищать.
Поясню. Когда следишь за перипетиями и хитросплетениями, подводящими к раскрытию какой-нибудь криминальной, финансовой или политической загадки, вскрытию интриги и т.д. у какого-нибудь прости-господи Гришэма или Дика Фрэнсиса, это как-то… ну, мелковато. С юристами Уолл-стрит (я обобщаю) или жокеями ипподрома себя не очень проассоциируешь (разве что с лошадками, читая Фрэнсиса), а тут понимаешь, что загрязнение Бостонской гавани, как ни странно, касается и тебя. Особенно если тебе подробно растолковывают, что с тобой после этого будет. Ну и натянуть государство или крупную корпорацию — вообще любимый аттракцион, особенно если изобретательно и с хорошим чувством юмора.
Кроме того, эко-террористы — излюбленный тип изгоев и героев (в т.ч. литературных), если они не идиоты, конечно, а такие, как у Стивенсона (да, я знаю, что в «Зодиаке» они подчеркнуто НЕ-террористы, сути это не меняет). Потому что у него они продолжают традицию Эдварда Эбби и выглядят двоюродными братьями и сестрами Карла Хайасена.
А еще из смешных черточек героя-рассказчика (только не сообщайте об этом автору, он явно не имел этого в виду, будучи американцем, он не видит в этом никакой иронии, он этого никак не подчеркивал, для него это само собой разумеется) — защитник природы, эко-боевик, химик, ныряющий в самую гущу токсических отходов, если нужно, — сильно болеет, просто порезав ногу на свалке. Потому что, как все американцы, напрочь лишен иммунитета.

Ahoy there me mateys! This review has a twist. The First Mate and I both read this one (sort of)! We discussed the book and I enjoyed his viewpoint so I ordered asked him to write a review. So you get one from me and a bonus additional review from me crew. Please note that I write like I talk and the First Mate writes like he thinks. Hope you enjoy!

From the First Mate:

The first time I read Zodiac was twenty years ago. Amazon tells me that I purchased it in May 2000, several months after I’d previously purchased and enjoyed Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon. I can’t say for certain that I’d purchased Snow Crash and The Diamond Age in the intervening months (perhaps in a long shuttered Borders), but my memory is that in the wake of reading Cryptonomicon I was trying to quickly read everything Stephenson had written, as I’d then found a new favorite author.

Zodiac tells the story of Sangamon Taylor, a dude bro eco terrorist, and his efforts to engage in “mediapathic” events against corporations that are polluting the environment, specifically his nemesis corporation, developer of Agent Orange: Basco Industries. Like a lot of early Stephenson, the plot of the novel is highly episodic. Taylor goes somewhere, does some explaining to someone about how the world really works, MacGyvers together something that will draw media attention, and then we move on to the next adventure.

There’s a larger storyline involving Basco Industries, Boston Harbor, and genetic engineering that weaves itself through Taylor’s adventures and eventually becomes the central focus of the last quarter of the book. But the majority of the book is hanging out with a guy that says things like “If you’ve put yourself in a position where someone has to see you in order for you to be safe – to see you, and to give a fuck – you’ve already blown it” and “It irritates the hell out of me to be in a situation where I’m forced to do exactly what’s expected.”

Twenty years ago I was definitely the target audience for this type of book and narrator. The snarky “I have the world’s address and you’re lucky you’ve got someone like me to explain it all” tone was right up my alley at the time. Two decades later it still makes me smile, even though I’ve certainly had my fill of dealing with those types of men in real life. Even in 2000, though, I probably would’ve told you that the reason to read any Stephenson was purely for stylistic reasons. If his style works for you (as it did for me), reading his work can be amazingly enjoyable. If that style grates, there’s very little value to get from Stephenson. He’s never written a truly satisfying ending and his palette of characters is rather limited. As with all of Stephenson’s early novels, major characters and plot elements appear for the first time in the last third of the novel out of nowhere.

I will say that the thematic core of the novel is perhaps even more relevant today than when it was when published in 1988. Taylor tells us “The big lie of American capitalism is that corporations work in their own best interests. In fact they’re constantly doing things that will eventually bring them to their knees.” It seems that we get weekly updates of corporations shooting themselves in the foot these days.

I enjoyed rereading Zodiac. Did I enjoy it as much as the first read? Don’t know. Part of the enjoyment was revisiting the now somewhat distant past of my youth. I recognize the late 80s of the novel, and I have to admit that I get some weird comfort from being reminded of that era. Likewise, it was fun to think about where I was and what I was like when I first read this novel in 2000. It’s probably not a high recommendation of the novel that a majority of my enjoyment was nostalgia-based.

Recommended if any of the above quotes have a tone that speaks to you. Avoid if you’re allergic to dude bros with a tendency to mansplaining.

From the Captain:

I read Anathem a long while back and adored it so I was excited to dive back into the author’s work. I be highly allergic to dude bros with a tendency to mansplain. I almost died so I quickly abandoned ship. Arrrrr!

This book revolves around toxic waste being illegally dumped into Boston Harbor. While I was reading it, the water in the fish tank went mysteriously cloudy overnight despite being recently cleaned and our two goldfish who were like ten years old went belly up. So that was kind of creepy.

The first Neal Stephenson book I read was Cryptonomicon and I jumped from there right into The Baroque Cycle and then the brain-busting brilliant behemoth that was Anathem. I loved them all, but saw frequent complaints from other Stephenson fans that he’d gotten boring and his books were too long. After reading Snow Crash last year and now Zodiac, I understand where they’re coming from. I’d politely disagree, but now I think I’ve got a better idea of why fans of earlier work are frustrated with Stephenson‘s later books. And oh by the way, his new novel coming out in September is over 1000 pages so I don’t think he’ll be scaling back any time soon.

Sangamon Taylor is the ‘granola James Bond’, and a self-described professional asshole. A chemist who works for an environmental outfit that starts with the letter ‘G’, ST works tirelessly to stage flashy events that expose the illegal dumping of toxic waste and sometimes he gets a little more hands-on then just calling the media, but he refuses to cross the line into violence. His main area of expertise is all the illegal dumping into Boston Harbor, and he spends most of his time zipping around on his Zodiac boat charting the chemical levels, figuring out how it’s getting in the water, and then ripping the ass out of the corporation doing the polluting

ST is cocky, smart and has the MacGyver-like mechanical skills to use toilet parts and salad bowls to block off a mile long underwater pipe being used to illegally dump toxins. ST’s crusade against the illegal waste dumpers of the Boston area eventually gets him mixed up with a conspiracy involving some extremely dangerous toxic waste and a presidential candidate.

As usual, Stephenson is a bit ahead of his time in this book written in 1988. ST and his friends seem more like Gen X ‘90s then the New Wave ‘80s, and the book manages to avoid seeming dated despite the lack of cell phones and the Internet in the story. I loved the character of ST who seemed like a more foul mouthed version of one of the Mythbusters who has nothing but hatred for the soulless corporate yuppies and contempt for the spacey granola heads of the environmental movement who can’t do the simplest mechanical task. The schemes he cooks up are innovative and funny, and it was nice to have a main character who was genuinely trying to do something for the greater good without being either cynical or sanctimonious.

I did get a few laughs out of ST’s strategies which usually involved exposure to the media and his confidence that public shaming was the way to force a giant corporation out of business. Oh, how quaint that seems when we all watched an oil company spill crude oil into the Gulf of Mexico on cable news daily for over two months and is still doing business as usual.

This was a smart and funny ecological thriller that was way ahead of its time.

I'm not sure what I would have thought about this book if it had been by another author, or an author I didn't already know. It's a fun book, and decent in its own right. Have you ever seen pictures of people you knew when they were babies, and tried to scope out the resemblance to their adult appearance. That's sort of what I found myself doing in this book. There are lots of hints and suggestions of the kind of writer Stephenson would become. But standing on its own, this book seems just as much like someone trying to riff on Carl Hiaasen.

The book is decidedly more coherent that some of his later books, and its fun and a bit weird, but its nowhere near as fun as Snow Crash or Diamond Age, and the weirdness doesn't approach some of the stuff in Anathem. The ending ties things up more neatly that he does in his other books. And that neatness left me feeling a bit flat. I've always been a bit dissatisfied with Stephenson's endings (except for the Baroque trilogy, which has a few amazing and perfect endings). And here, the ending was probably right in some sense, but I still didn't feel particularly satisfied. This time, because it seemed too pat.

What I really liked seeing here was Stephenson's geekiness -- Darth Vader suits, Star Trek analogies, comparisons between chemical plants and Mordor. Then there was the fun of having a hyper-aware environmentalist who seems to rival Hunter Thompson in drug consumption: Nitrous Oxide, LSD, shrooms, speed. And there were some entertaining, but very brief, digressions and infodumps here -- the sort of thing that become the meat of the later, fatter books. All in all, I took this as Stephenson Lite. It was fun, and I'm glad I read it.

Hats off to Neal Stephenson for writing a worthy companion novel for Edward Abbey's iconic The Monkey Wrench Gang, one generation later. I enjoyed reading about the exploits of scruffy chemist Sangamon Taylor and his friends while they huff nitrous oxide but do their best to fight pollution and polluters.

The allusions to chemistry and the properties of molecules in this story sound well-researched. Stephenson also knows Boston. As a bonus, he sprinkled this book with fascinating secondary characters.

Artemis, a spiky-haired activist and hotshot Zodiac skipper, gets short shrift. On the other hand, Sangamon's older Native American friend is delightful, and so is Hoa, the owner of a Vietnamese restaurant where the "Granola James Bond" (aka Toxic Spider Man) is a frequent customer.

Parts of the book feel dated, because people still read printed newspapers and use walkie-talkies, yet this late-Eighties caper remains a fun read with a sly sense of humor. Its description of McDonald's "pseudo-shakes" as "pureed Wonder Bread" made me chuckle, but Zodiac has more going for it than escapism and narrative drive. The book slowly becomes a memorable defense of environmental activism, without ever getting particularly preachy. That's a good trick.

Side note: The book title has nothing to do with astrology or serial killers. The Zodiac in question is an inflatable boat, made famous (if you're old enough to remember him) by spearfishing legend-turned-environmentalist-and-oceanographer Jacques Cousteau.

I was a little worried this would feel dated, but luckily it was pretty much set in the present of when it was written and felt more like a period piece for late '80s eco-terrorism. Not the best Stephenson, but all the elements are there, tons of science, complicated plots with interesting twists and convergences. It just jumped around a bit too quickly. A fight might be over before you even realized it had started. It was hard to gauge character feelings and motivations.

Before Stephenson got into the habit of fashioning entire techno-historical realities to fool around in, he wrote this odd little eco-thriller. It's about environmental activism before the green boom in the late 90's and early 2000's, when environmentally concerned types were usually just one or two ideological steps away from being misanthropic survivalists, obsessive self-taught chemical engineers, or wanted fugitives, and were hardly seen as people with a broad interest in constructive human welfare. The book is narrated by one of these obsessive dorks. S.T. walks a fine line between a Palahniuk sort of macho-cynicism and outright violent neuroses. But its the brilliantly funny narration, of a voice too well-jaded by sleazy corporate maleficence, orchestrated media circuses and general public apathy, which keeps the book going. The characters tend to run a bit thin, and by the end Stephenson feels like he's just sort of rushing through all of the hoops necessary to make it all cohere (something that creeps up a lot in his fiction) instead of just giving the story space to breath. But like all subsequent Stephenson books, it's also filled with these exactingly researched high tech set pieces which he does better than just about anyone. It's William Gibson for waste treatment workers and wreck divers.