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Cognitive neurologist and well-known writer team up to produce a machine that can pass a comprehensive exam in English literature, with predictably unpredictable results. Like The Gold Bug Variations, this is another of Powers' wild, unforgettable novels encompassing science, philosophy, and the frailty of mankind.
Overworked and Narcissistic For the life of me, I can't figure out why so many readers give this book glowing reviews. I found it boring in the extreme. I guess you need to be a real "neural network" fan to enjoy this type of writing. For me this tome is overworked and overly pedantic.
The basic premise is a good one (and could have been wrapped in a much better story), but the plot fails to get going at a pace that would keep even the most jaded "computer drama" fan entertained or interested. Characters are not fully fleshed out and the story arc self-terminates in many places.
I really had a hard time getting through this, not because I'm dull-witted but because I found it far too overcooked and "clever" for my tastes. Even though it was written in first person, I've never read a novel where the writer is so clearly self-involved. As well, the devisive over-use of initials instead of proper names was irritating in the extreme and somewhat juvenile. OK, so the "author within the author" doesn't want to use names. Make up something to at least give the character a face!
All in all: a very tedious read. Save your money.
An instant classic The writing is brilliant, with an extremely high vocabulary and a keen use of metaphor (Powers' standard). The science is suspect but is intelligently focused more by his expertise in literary devices and the logic of langauge (or lack of) than by knowledge of neural networks and computers (of which, even still, he knows a lot). The love story is fairly unmoving to me, and is annoying at times, though perhaps it is more realistic in that way. The ending is stunning.
You've never read anything quite like it, and may never again, so it is worth a try. It was the first Powers book I managed to get all the way through, and it revived the bookworm in me that was dormant for years. He has a knack for witty dialogue (though every character is so sharp (even a young child) it's hard to believe they are not of the same mind), and descriptions of the world that would never have occurred to you. You will be smarter after reading this. I love my friend for passing it on to me.Well worth reading Richard Powers' Galatea 2.2 is, I trust, a semi-autobiographical novel since it features the author as first person with his name intact. Stylistically, the novel takes some risks with its wording, though its creative use of technical vocabulary to create poetic metaphor generally succeeds with brilliance. The title itself, referring back to the legend of Pygmalion, concerns the education of a computer network whose growth of intelligence takes on increasingly human features, including even some female identity named Helen. Richard Powers, as research assistant, teaches the computer network through literary input via microphone, using audiovisual addenda where appropriate.
Parallel to this, we are presented with the story of his own human relationship with his girlfriend, C., a needy woman with whom he shares his life, first as his student, and later as his almost wife, and he acts as her mentor and protector as well as her lover. As this bond disintegrates, he returns to the USA from Belgium to take up his research role in an artificial intelligence experiment. There was a time when he himself was inspired by his own professor to enter into doctorate studies in English literature rather than physics, against his father's wishes, and finally into becoming a novelist in his own right - within a culture that reads less and less.
He has a curious love-hate relationship with the scientist who acts as his technical mentor (and who has a wife institutionalized with Alzheimer's disease) and intellectual foil between two worlds: the literary/humanistic and the scientific/materialistic. His relationship with his scientific colleagues is somewhat as an outsider, then, though that role is true in both of his worlds, in which he is clearly more than just a competent intellect. In passing, he raises issues concerning the humanities in academia losing their soul in recent scholarly fads. In all of his relationships, his own humanity is put to the test, and many moments of reflective sadness touch our own sensibilities as we read on.
When Helen gives up because of deep disappointment with the destructiveness of humankind, we find ourselves thrust upon the central thesis of our author: the human soul is a chance miracle that is unlikely ever to recur in nature; as a corollary, the lack of appreciation of that happenstance is already a degradation along the path of senseless destruction. Against this cosmic disappointment, the failures of his romantic life seem a pale theme in comparison, painful as they are in their inexorability. Are both themes to be subsumed under something greater still, or are they meant to be irreducible? For, imperfect as life on this planet is, it is still (painfully) preferable to any of the alternatives.
