I read first read
Snow Crash back in the mid 90s and it was very much of the time. I think it belongs in the first real wave of post-Cyberpunk books whose authors, like myself, had grown up reading the original Cyberpunks. Stephenson's preoccupations; maths, philosophy, obscure history etc. are very much my own, so he might as well have been writing them just for me...
I do like his use of the slacker/hacker/science geek idiom mixed in with academic speak too; he manages to get his, often quite arcane, concepts across in the language that I actually speak and understand. A friend of mine once told me that the voice he heard
Cryptonomicon being read in, in his head, was mine. Which I found quite flattering, whether he meant it that way or not
He doesn't talk down to his audience either. A lot of sf writers seem to assume their readers have had no prior contact with the ideas they're writing about or are not bright enough to get up to speed with them. Stephenson, to his credit imo, gives the reader the benefit of the doubt and takes them along for the ride. This can, I think, make him hard work, especially for those without a science/tech background. I rather like his authorial persona too. He comes across as a guy who knows a great deal, is endlessly interested in everything and is not afraid to be clever. He's also really funny. And, when he puts his mind to it, he can tell a cracking story;
The Confusion just barrels along, especially in the Jack Shaftoe sections.
If an opinion contrary to your own makes you angry, that is a sign that you are subconsciously aware of having no good reason for thinking as you do. If some one maintains that two and two are five, or that Iceland is on the equator, you feel pity rather than anger, unless you know so little of arithmetic or geography that his opinion shakes your own contrary conviction. … So whenever you find yourself getting angry about a difference of opinion, be on your guard; you will probably find, on examination, that your belief is going beyond what the evidence warrants. Bertrand Russell