书名：Neuromancer神经漫游者  

难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数790L 

作者：William Gibson威廉·吉布森 

出版社名称：Penguin 

出版时间：1986 

语种：英文 

ISBN：9780441569595 

商品尺寸：10.8 x 1.9 x 17.8 cm 

包装：简装 

页数：288 （以实物为准）Neuromancer《神经浪游者》是电脑朋克科幻的典范。在创作上，这部小说场面高度正确，逼真地反映了80年代美国的社会氛围。小说在创作上的突破，开阔了科幻审视社会的视野，给科幻小说带了新的活力。

《神经浪游者》也是首部同时获得“雨果奖”(Hugo Award)、“星云奖”(Nebula Award)与“菲利普•迪克奖”(Philip K. Dick Award)三大科幻小说大奖的著作。 

★ 这就是催生了《黑客帝国》的那部小说！ 

★“我们是威廉·吉布森的狂热粉丝。”——《黑客帝国》导演沃卓斯基姐弟 

★“1923年以来100本英文小说佳作”之一 

★“赛博朋克”圣经 

★ 史wu前例的得奖记录：囊括雨果奖、星云奖、菲利普·迪克奖 ★“这部小说问世十年后，我们才终于认识到它的重大意义。”——《纽约时报》 

★“简直无法想象它刚出版时的激进程度，无论如何高估都不过分。”——《时代》 

★ 它开启了赛博朋克这个文学类型，它给了我们“网络空间”这个词，它将这个世界带到了信息时代，它提供了无数灵感给《黑客帝国》《攻壳机动队》以及先锋音乐、时尚、游戏…… 

★ 而它仍然新鲜得仿佛昨天才刚刚写出来，仍然眩目得可以震撼到未来三十年的人类。 

★“要召唤一个魔鬼，你必须知道它的名字。”（摘自《神经漫游者》）。 

Winner of the Hugo, Nebula, and Philip K. Dick Awards, Neuromancer is a science fiction masterpiece—a classic that ranks as one of the twentieth century’s most potent visions of the future.

Praise for Neuromancer “Freshly imagined, compellingly detailed, and chilling in its implications.”

—The New York Times   “Kaleidoscopic, picaresque, flashy, decadent…an amazing virtuoso performance.”

—The Washington Post   “Science fiction of exceptional texture and vision…Gibson opens up a new genre, with a finely crafted grittiness.”

—San Francisco Chronicle   “Epic in scale…shimmers like chrome in a desert sun.”

—The Wall Street Journal   

“A revolutionary novel.”

—Publishers Weekly   

“In with the ruthless violence, the hyperreality, the betrayal and death, is an unquenchable love of language. Gibson has that in common with Le Guin and with J. G. Ballard. Neuromancer sings to us as a collage of voices, a mixed chorus, some trustworthy and others malicious, some piped through masks.” 

—James Gleick   

"Streetwise SF... one of the most unusual and involving narratives to be read in many an artificially induced blue moon." —London Times

一个天才黑客，一个女杀手，一个特种部队军官，一个意识操控专家。他们受雇去做两件事：偷一把钥匙，获得一个密码。

他们是职业罪犯，同时也是无可救药的厌世者；他们自我放逐，同时也在下意识寻找一条回家的路。而他们的雇主，则是人类自有文明以来从未遇到过的强大对手…… 

Case was the sharpest data-thief in the matrix—until he crossed the wrong people and they crippled his nervous system, banishing him from cyberspace. Now a mysterious new employer has recruited him for a last-chance run at an unthinkably powerful artificial intelligence. With a dead man riding shotgun and Molly, a mirror-eyed street-samurai, to watch his back, Case is ready for the adventure that upped the ante on an entire genre of fiction. Neuromancer was the first fully-realized glimpse of humankind’s digital future—a shocking vision that has challenged our assumptions about technology and ourselves, reinvented the way we speak and think, and forever altered the landscape of our imaginations.

威廉·吉布森(William Ford Gibson，1948~)，当代重要的英文作家之一，科幻小说宗师，赛博朋克之父。

他的处女作《神经漫游者》开创了“赛博朋克”这个文学流派，1985年囊括雨果、星云、菲利普·K·迪克奖。2005年《时代》将其列入“1923年以来100本英文小说佳作”。 吉布森不仅为科幻小说开辟了一个全新的疆域，他天才的文风和犀利的哲学思辨，更赋予科幻小说一种新的质感与厚度。他的每本小说，均是可以被反复品味、反复重读的当代经典。 他也是“网络空间（cyberspace）”这个词的发明者。如今处处可见的“网络空间”和“虚拟现实”就是因为吉布森小说的影响力而进入了我们的语言系统。 

William Gibson’s first novel, Neuromancer, won the Hugo Award, the Philip K. Dick Memorial Award, and the Nebula Award in 1984. He is also the New York Times bestselling author of Count Zero, Mona Lisa Overdrive, Burning Chrome, Virtual Light, Idoru, All Tomorrow’s Parties, Pattern Recognition, Spook Country, Zero History, Distrust That Particular Flavor, and The Peripheral. He lives in Vancouver, British Columbia, with his wife.

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. “It’s not like I’m using,” Case heard someone say, as he shouldered his way through the crowd around the door of the Chat. “It’s like my body’s developed this massive drug deficiency.” It was a Sprawl voice and a Sprawl joke. The Chatsubo was a bar for professional expatriates; you could drink there for a week and never hear two words in Japanese. Ratz was tending bar, h is prosthetic arm jerking monotonously as he filled a tray of glasses with draft Kirin. He saw Case and smiled, his teeth a webwork of East European steel and brown decay. Case found a place at the bar, between the unlikely tan on one of Lonny Zone’s whores and the crisp naval uniform of a tall African whose cheekbones were ridged with precise rows of tribal scars. “Wage was in her early, with two joeboys,” Ratz said, shoving a draft across the bar with his good hand. “Maybe some business with you, Case?” Case shrugged. The girl to his right giggled and nudged him. The bartender’s smile widened. His ugliness was the stuff of legend. In an age of affordable beauty, there was something heraldic about his lack of it. The antique arm whined as he reached for another mug. It was a Russian military prosthesis, a seven-function force-feedback manipulator, cased in grubby pink plastic. “You are too much the artiste, Herr Case.” Ratz grunted; the sound served him as laughter. He scratched his overhang of white-shirted belly with the pink claw. “You are the artiste of the slightly funny deal.” “Sure,” Case said, and sipped his beer. “Somebody’s gotta be funny around here. Sure the fuck isn’t you.” The whore’s giggle went up an octave. “Isn’t you either, sister. So you vanish, okay? Zone, he’s a close personal friend of mine.” She looked Case in the eye and made the softest possible spitting sound, her lips barely moving. But she left. “Jesus,” Case said, “what kinda creepjoint you running here? Man can’t have a drink?” “Ha,” Ratz said, swabbing the scarred wood with a rag, “Zone shows a percentage. You I let work here for entertainment value.” As Case was picking up his beer, one of those strange instants of silence descended, as though a hundred unrelated conversations had simultaneously arrived at the same pause. Then the whore’s giggle rang out, tinged with certain hysteria. Ratz grunted. “An angel has passed.” “The Chinese,” bellowed a drunken Australian, “Chinese bloody invented nerve-splicing. Give me the mainland for a nerve job any day. Fix you right, mate…;” “Now that,” Case said to his glass, all his bitterness suddenly rising in him like bile, “that is so much bullshit.” The Japanese had already forgotten more neurosurgery than the Chinese had ever known. The black clinics of Chiba were the cutting edge, whole bodies of technique supplanted monthly, and still they couldn’t repair the damage he’d suffered in that Memphis hotel.