They story kicks off when Zula’s desperate/idiot boyfriend bungles the sale of stolen credit card numbers. For her poor choice in men, Zula is rewarded with a kidnapping, and we are yanked into an around-the-world adventure involving every type of villain ever punched by Liam Neeson (and a few he hasn’t—get on that!).

See, all the makings of a page-turning thriller. And it is, but it's also more, and your enjoyment of the novel will depend on how much you like that "more" part.

Reamde brims with details vast, deep, and edifying. Want a glimpse into the Russian mafia's white collar crime operations? Check. Curious about how virtual terrain and game economies are created and managed? Got that too! Hungering for a comprehensive description of the topography along a section of the US-Canadian border? No? Well, it’s got it anyway.

The first several chapters introduce us to Stephenson's info-heavy style. This block of characterization had me checking the description several times to make sure I was reading a thriller. We get grandpa watching TV, people chatting on a gun range, backstory on a woman killed by lightning.

I understand the why: it developed a clear sense of Richard’s strained relationship with his family, and so made him more real and the ending more meaningful. Cool. But Stephenson could've achieved the same thing with less—an issue that rears its head throughout the book.

Still, power on, it's worth it.

These sidetracks mostly feel quick because of the interesting views along the way. But there are moments where Stephenson’s descriptions of, for example, the hills, rocks, trees, and their exact configuration drain the action of some momentum. Then the next scene roars into your face, drowning out the impatience and forcing you to hold on, white-knuckled.

Multiple story threads take us through China, the Philippines, Seattle and other exotic locals, with an eclectic groups of tour guides: a Hungarian hacker, Russian mobsters, and networked Islamic terrorists. The kind of guides that'll show you a good time right before beating you to death in a dirty alley with a technical manual.

The rich cast of characters had my attention, especially Zula. She’s a fighter but not indestructible, with a textured backstory based on her home country of Eritrea. I connected with her even more than, say, Jazz, from Andy Weir’s Artemis. I also developed a fascination with several of the baddies. Or a fear of. A fine line between the two.

To sum up, despite an info-heavy story and one big infusion of plot thickening coincidence, the brilliant parts equal more than the sum of the whole.

Oh, by the way, it about 1000 pages.

While at an aroma therapy session in an abandoned radar installation, I accidentally tapped into a pirated neural feed—possibly due to the transceiver parts I inhaled.

The static is as ragged and thick as a New Year’s hangover, but I’ll assemble what I get into something approximating coherent thought.

Lucky for us, the first transmission I picked up fits right into February's Valentine theme.

Transmission Transcript:

...Despite all your artificial assistants, we predict a sixty-six over six times six percent chance you’ve forgotten to spend your money in the right direction for this special day.

Fear not, I’m Vento Yaster with Nester's Neural Network coming direct to your brain to save you with some last-minute deals from our sponsors. Remember: the three Ns mean you win!

Is the ol’ ball and no brains always harping on you for not following them around wherever they go? No? Well, surprise them anyway by jumping out from behind their favorite kiosk—or from the adjoining bathroom stall—just to say “I love you so much I can’t ever not know your exact physical location at all times” with Tera Tech’s ForEverywhere location tracker!

The beautiful part about this never-apart device: there’re two delivery systems. The software version installs directly into their cerebral implant, integrating into the firmware so it’s nearly impossible to remove—and to detect!—without a complete reformat. The other, more intimate option is a micro-tracker injected into the C1 vertebrae, just below the base of their skull. Only way to be rid of you is to chop off their own head! Physical installation extra. If that ain’t love, then love is a waste of IOUs.

Speaking of debts...

We’ve all been in need of a quick infusion of funds from time to time. And we’ve all done things we’re not proud of to get it—I know I have! I’m still waiting for my children to stop saying they have no father. You weren't grown in a lab, kids! So what if I auctioned off your childhood memories. Get over it! (static) right, yes, I know, shut up.

The point: you needed money. So you used a carton of fermented algae and vending machine sleeping pills to knock out your significant other long enough to remove an organ for resale. Don’t say you haven’t, we’ve read your credit report!

Best of all, when they attempt to use the Xomo organ, the soothing voice of Sheevo Gnoe explains they’ll get a working replacement as soon as your software seance business turns a profit.

Buy now while their body is still warm ... and asleep!

Slide me a tall glass of liquid nitrogen because these deals are overheating.

With all the hours spent up in virtual space, who has the time—or the orifices—to fulfill your partner’s every whim? I do, for one. Call me, aha! (static) But the next best option is Fun Gunzer’s Leisure Playhouse. A candied buffet of the least-defective recalled pleasure androids still on the market. Ignore the warnings, focus on the low, taut-bottom prices!

Let’s move on to the most important aspect of your partner: their looks!

Imagine this: it's a beautiful evening beneath the flood lights, you're staring long and deep into their eyes and think: this is my soulmate, the only one for me ... at least until the contract expires! Aha!

But really, time stops, it’s just the two or more of you, and everything is perfect ... except for their face. You’re not sure what the problem is, but it drives you up the wall and out the window.

Want the answer? Of course you do. That's why you tune in. And to be told all your fears are justified. They are!

So, what's the problem with your partner's face? It’s not yours! No one’s face is better than your own! So give the gift that looks back at them every day, from every reflective surface, until the end of days. Pick up a Dr. Gentlemen's clone surgery gift card while supplies last.

Planning the perfect date or a romantic couple’s getaway takes a lot of effort. You have to listen to your partner’s whining about the rights of vat meat stem cells. You have to convince your boss to give you the time off, and make sure a bot doesn't replace you in your absence. And to top it off, you’ve actually got to go! Or, do you?

Why not let Flashback Factory’s dedicated team of engineers craft the memories for you? Really, what’s the difference? If you think you’ve been to the resort hotels of Sukaya, there’s nobody except everybody else to tell you otherwise!

Don’t stop there. Get remembered as the greatest lover ever, (static) reliable, likable, or just plain tolerable. Use your imagination—or let Flashback Factory do that for you, too.

With these gifts, your loved one is sure to love you back! And if they don’t, they probably aren’t worth the trouble anyway. On to the headlines ...

:Transcript Ends

Disclaimer: The views reconstructed here don’t necessarily reflect that of the blog author, his affiliates, or his imaginary friend Pete.