There's nothing beneath the baroque surface. (.) But whereas in past novels the filigree would reflect deeper structures in unusual and provocative ways, in Reamde the filigree is just filigree.
"There is filigree over all of this that only Stephenson could conjure. (.) There are times when you wonder if Reamde is the smartest dumb novel you have ever read or the dumbest smart novel." - Tom Bissell, The New York Times Book Review But Reamde, at a certain point, becomes less a novel than a book-shaped IV bag from which plot flows. That he is even able to keep this big, careening, recreational-vehicular novel on the road during its hairpin narrative turns says a lot about him as a plot juggler and information wrangler. 
"Stephenson’s novels have always been a little nuts, but thoughtfully nuts.On the other hand, Reamde is awfully exciting, and perhaps for the manically productive Stephenson, it amounts to a lark, a palate cleanser" - Laura Miller, The Guardian
(.) A liberal sprinkling of social satire gives the novel a bit of edge (.) Adding gangsters and terrorists and spies may once have seemed like a great way to spice up the subject of virtual, video game-based economies, but eventually the seasoning takes over the dish.
"Like Stephenson's most critically acclaimed novel, Cryptonomicon, Reamde combines meticulous observation of the stranger socioeconomic effects wrought by technology with rousing fusillades of adventure. General information | review summaries | our review | links | about the authorī+ : solid, large-scale - if occasionally over-detailed - adventure tale A particularly dashing young man skidded up to her on his knees (he was wearing hard-shell knee pads) and, in an attitude recalling the prince on the final page of Cinderella, fit a pair of used flip-flops onto her feet.Trying to meet all your book preview and review needs. Three different first aid kits were broken open at her feet older and wiser men began to lodge objections at the profligate use of supplies, darkly suggesting that it was all because she was a pretty girl. What would have been designated, in a Western office, as a hostile environment was soon in full swing as numerous rough strong hands were all over her, easing her to a comfortable perch on a chair that was produced as if by magic, feeling through her hair to find bumps and lacerations. Two of them were already running toward her with hands reaching out in a manner that, in normal circumstances, would have seemed just plain ungentlemanly. “There was no way that these guys were going to let a bleeding, barefoot woman simply wander off alone into the streets.
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