I read this as part of Her Smoke Rose Up Forever, Tiptree, Jr.'s anthology. One of my top three in a collection filled with alternately mindblowing and unremarkable stories, there were few in-between. (And I Awoke and Found Me Here on the Cold Hill's Side was a particular highlight. Chilling.)

Honestly, I see where William Gibson gets his inspiration. A whirlwind of stream-of-consciousness and hazy impressionism is both the worst and the best way to tell the story of P. Burke, a young woman whose awkward, sick body is rejected by the world, so she must access it through an impossibly beautiful, hollow doll. Along the way there's astute criticism of commercialism, a frighteningly prescient depiction of modern-day celebrity, even influencer culture, and a glimpse into the perils of technological excess. A difficult, but immensely satisfying read.

However, I understand perfectly how Tiptree, Jr.'s prose would be a bitch to translate, and a headache to read (hell, she still kind of is in her native English). Cyberpunk as a literary genre is sadly somewhat inaccessible in other languages.