This has been an explosive and culminating year for cyberpunk, a year in which that genre's trademark techniques of alientation, info-density and kitchen-sink heterogeneity have been applied with climactic success to three very different projects: Rudy Rucker's far-future young adult space opera Frek and the Elixir, Neal Stephenson's stupendous magnum opus The Baroque Trilogy, and now, Geoff Ryman's relatively short and seemingly innocuous AIR, about a remote mountain village in Central Asia, and the efforts of its "fashion expert," a married, middle-aged woman named Chung Mae, to come to grips with the latest version of the Internet.
Don't be fooled. Chung Mae's adventures, while limited to her village and the nearby provincial capitol, are the most mind-blowing emotional, intellectual, terror and sense-of-wonder filled thrill ride since Dan Simmons's Hyperion. And in the same way that Neal Stephenson's 3000 page Baroque Trilogy deals with the previous global social, political, religious, scientific, and economic revolution that gave us our modern world, AIR is a rigorous, visceral, intensely moving and completely convincing portrayal of the next one--all from the point of view of an illiterate, "developing world" wife and mother, who happens to be the most real, engaging and three-dimensional character I've ever encountered in any science fiction book.
Get to know her, care for her, and, yes, worry about her, and by page 200, you'll witness a series of revelations--personal, social, political, biological, and even cosmological--so explosive, you'll think the book cannot possibly top itself--but you'll be only half-way through. There are several plateaus yet to go, on the way to a climax that had me in tears (literally) and at the same time filled me with hope.
This is the year that cyberpunk goes from apocalyptic to revolutionary.
The revolution won't be televised. But it will be AIRed.