The New York Times
Little Brotherby Cory Doctorow
Marcus, a.k.a "w1n5t0n," is only seventeen years old, but he figures he already knows how the system works–and how to work the system. Smart, fast, and wise to the ways of the networked world, he has no trouble outwitting his high school's intrusive but clumsy surveillance systems.
But his whole world changes when he and his friends find themselves caught… See more details below
Marcus, a.k.a "w1n5t0n," is only seventeen years old, but he figures he already knows how the system works–and how to work the system. Smart, fast, and wise to the ways of the networked world, he has no trouble outwitting his high school's intrusive but clumsy surveillance systems.
But his whole world changes when he and his friends find themselves caught in the aftermath of a major terrorist attack on San Francisco. In the wrong place at the wrong time, Marcus and his crew are apprehended by the Department of Homeland Security and whisked away to a secret prison where they're mercilessly interrogated for days.
When the DHS finally releases them, Marcus discovers that his city has become a police state where every citizen is treated like a potential terrorist. He knows that no one will believe his story, which leaves him only one option: to take down the DHS himself.
The New York Times
The Washington Post
SF author Doctorow (Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom), coeditor of the influential blog BoingBoing, tells a believable and frightening tale of a near-future San Francisco, victimized first by terrorists and then by an out-of-control Department of Homeland Security determined to turn the city into a virtual police state. Innocent of any wrongdoing beyond cutting school, high school student and techno-geek Marcus is arrested, illegally interrogated and humiliated by overzealous DHS personnel who also "disappear" his best friend, Darryl, along with hundreds of other U.S. citizens. Moved in part by a desire for revenge and in part by a passionate belief in the Bill of Rights, Marcus vows to drive the DHS out of his beloved city. Using the Internet and other technologies, he plays a dangerous game of cat and mouse, disrupting the government's attempts to create virtually universal electronic surveillance while recruiting other young people to his guerilla movement. Filled with sharp dialogue and detailed descriptions of how to counteract gait-recognition cameras, arphids (radio frequency ID tags), wireless Internet tracers and other surveillance devices, this work makes its admittedly didactic point within a tautly crafted fictional framework. Ages 13-up. (May)Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
In a tale set in San Francisco in the near future, seventeen-year-old technophile Marcus Yallow and his three friends ditch school to participate in a combination online/real-life "best game ever made," Harajuku Fun Madness. Victims of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, they are seized and vigorously interrogated by the Department of Homeland Security following a horrific terrorist attack. Eventually released, Marcus returns to find a paranoid society willing to forgo personal freedoms for a sense of artificial security. Outraged he uses his hacker skills and problem-solving abilities to set into motion a chain of events that initiate a series of unintended consequences. Consequently, Marcus, aka M1k3y, finds himself in the role of the reluctant leader of a hard-to-control rebellion as he struggles with broken friendships, conflicted parents, a strong-willed girlfriend, and a most uncertain future. Through the voice of his young protagonist, the author manages to explain naturally the necessary technical tools and scientific concepts in this fast-paced and well-written story. (Who would ever think that the "paradox of the false positive" could be so understandable and interesting?) The reader is privy to Marcus's gut-wrenching angst, frustration, and terror, thankfully offset by his self-awareness and humorous observations. As with "Big Brother" in George Orwell's 1984, this book will motivate the reader to contemplate free speech, due process, and political activism with new insights. Reviewer: Lynne Farrell Stover
April 2008 (Vol. 31, No. 1)
Gr 10 Up- When he ditches school one Friday morning, 17-year-old Marcus is hoping to get a head start on the Harajuku Fun Madness clue. But after a terrorist attack in San Francisco, he and his friends are swept up in the extralegal world of the Department of Homeland Security. After questioning that includes physical torture and psychological stress, Marcus is released, a marked man in a much darker San Francisco: a city of constant surveillance and civil-liberty forfeiture. Encouraging hackers from around the city, Marcus fights against the system while falling for one hacker in particular. Doctorow rapidly confronts issues, from civil liberties to cryptology to social justice. While his political bias is obvious, he does try to depict opposing viewpoints fairly. Those who have embraced the legislative developments since 9/11 may be horrified by his harsh take on Homeland Security, Guantánamo Bay, and the PATRIOT Act. Politics aside, Marcus is a wonderfully developed character: hyperaware of his surroundings, trying to redress past wrongs, and rebelling against authority. Teen espionage fans will appreciate the numerous gadgets made from everyday materials. One afterword by a noted cryptologist and another from an infamous hacker further reflect Doctorow's principles, and a bibliography has resources for teens interested in intellectual freedom, information access, and technology enhancements. Curious readers will also be able to visit BoingBoing, an eclectic group blog that Doctorow coedits. Raising pertinent questions and fostering discussion, this techno-thriller is an outstanding first purchase.-Chris Shoemaker, New York Public Library
Read an Excerpt
I’m a senior at Cesar Chavez, High in San Francisco’s sunny Mission district, and that makes me one of the most surveilled people in the world. My name is Marcus Yallow, but back when this story starts, I was going by w1n5t0n. Pronounced "Winston."
Not pronounced "Double-you-one-enn-five-tee-zero-enn"— unless you’re a clueless disciplinary officer who’s far enough behind the curve that you still call the Internet "the information superhighway."
I know just such a clueless person, and his name is Fred Benson, one of three vice-principals at Cesar Chavez. He’s a sucking chest wound of a human being. But if you’re going to have a jailer, better a clueless one than one who’s really on the ball.
"Marcus Yallow," he said over the PA one Friday morning. The PA isn’t very good to begin with, and when you combine that with Benson’s habitual mumble, you get something that sounds more like someone struggling to digest a bad burrito than a school announcement. But human beings are good at picking their names out of audio confusion—it’s a survival trait.
I grabbed my bag and folded my laptop three-quarters shut—I didn’t want to blow my downloads—and got ready for
"Report to the administration office immediately."
My social studies teacher, Ms. Galvez, rolled her eyes at me and I rolled my eyes back at her. The Man was always coming down on me, just because I go through school firewalls like wet kleenex, spoof the gait-recognition software, and nuke the snitch chips they track us with. Galvez is a good type, anyway, never holds that against me (especially when I’m helping get with her webmail so she can talk to her brother who’s stationed in Iraq).
My boy Darryl gave me a smack on the ass as I walked past. I’ve known Darryl since we were still in diapers and escaping from play-school, and I’ve been getting him into and out of trouble the whole time. I raised my arms over my head like a prizefighter and made my exit from Social Studies and began the perp-walk to the office.
I was halfway there when my phone went. That was another no-no—phones are muy prohibido at Chavez High—but why should that stop me? I ducked into the toilet and shut myself in the middle stall (the farthest stall is always grossest because so many people head straight for it, hoping to escape the smell and the squick—the smart money and good hygiene is down the middle). I checked the phone—my home PC had sent it an email to tell it that there was something new up on Harajuku Fun Madness, which happens to be the best game ever invented.
I grinned. Spending Fridays at school was teh suck anyway, and I was glad of the excuse to make my escape.
I ambled the rest of the way to Benson’s office and tossed him a wave as I sailed through the door.
"If it isn’t Double-you-one-enn-five-tee-zero-enn," he said. Fredrick Benson—Social Security number 545–03–2343, date of birth August 15 1962, mother’s maiden name Di Bona, hometown Petaluma—is a lot taller than me. I’m a runty 5'8", while he stands 6'7", and his college basketball days are far enough behind him that his chest muscles have turned into saggy man-boobs that were painfully obvious through his freebie dot-com polo shirts. He always looks like he’s about to slam-dunk your ass, and he’s really into raising his voice for dramatic effect. Both these start to lose their efficacy with repeated application.
"Sorry, nope," I said. "I never heard of this R2D2 character of yours."
"W1n5t0n," he said, spelling it out again. He gave me a hairy eyeball and waited for me to wilt. Of course it was my handle, and had been for years. It was the identity I used when I was posting on message boards where I was making my contributions to the field of applied security research. You know, like sneaking out of school and disabling the minder-tracer on my phone. But he didn’t know that this was my handle. Only a small number of people did, and I trusted them all to the end of the earth.
"Um, not ringing any bells," I said. I’d done some pretty cool stuff around school using that handle—I was very proud of my work on snitch-tag killers—and if he could link the two identities, I’d be in trouble. No one at school ever called me w1n5t0n or even Winston. Not even my pals. It was Marcus or nothing.
Benson settled down behind his desk and tapped his class ring nervously on his blotter. He did this whenever things started to go bad for him. Poker players call stuff like this a "tell"— something that lets you know what’s going on in the other guy’s head. I knew Benson’s tells backwards and forwards.
"Marcus, I hope you realize how serious this is."
"I will just as soon as you explain what this is, sir." I always say "sir" to authority figures when I’m messing with them. It’s my own tell.
He shook his head at me and looked down, another tell. Any second now, he was going to start shouting at me. "Listen, kiddo! It’s time you came to grips with the fact that we know about what you’ve been doing, and that we’re not going to be lenient about it. You’re going to be lucky if you’re not expelled before this meeting is through. Do you want to graduate?"
"Mr. Benson, you still haven’t explained what the problem is—"
He slammed his hand down on the desk and then pointed his finger at me. "The problem, Mr. Yallow, is that you’ve been engaged in criminal conspiracy to subvert this school’s security system, and you have supplied security countermeasures to your fellow students. You know that we expelled Graciella Uriarte last week for using one of your devices." Uriarte had gotten a bad rap. She’d bought a radio-jammer from a head shop near the 16th Street BART station and it had set off the countermeasures in the school hallway. Not my doing, but I felt for her.
"And you think I’m involved in that?"
"We have reliable intelligence indicating that you are w1n5t0n"—again, he spelled it out, and I began to wonder if he hadn’t figured out that the 1 was an I and the 5 was an S. "We know that this w1n5t0n character is responsible for the theft of last year’s standardized tests." That actually hadn’t been me, but it was a sweet hack, and it was kind of flattering to hear it attributed to me. "And therefore liable for several years in prison unless you cooperate with me."
"You have ‘reliable intelligence’? I’d like to see it."
He glowered at me. "Your attitude isn’t going to help you."
"If there’s evidence, sir, I think you should call the police and turn it over to them. It sounds like this is a very serious matter, and I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of a proper investigation by the duly constituted authorities."
"You want me to call the police."
"And my parents, I think. That would be for the best."
We stared at each other across the desk. He’d clearly expected me to fold the second he dropped the bomb on me. I don’t fold. I have a trick for staring down people like Benson. I look slightly to the left of their heads, and think about the lyrics to old Irish folk songs, the kind with three hundred verses. It makes me look perfectly composed and unworried.
And the wing was on the bird and the bird was on the egg and the egg was in the nest and the nest was on the leaf and the leaf was on the twig and the twig was on the branch and the branch was on the limb and the limb was in the tree and the tree was in the bog—the bog down in the valley-oh! High-ho the rattlin’ bog, the bog down in the valley-oh—
"You can return to class now," he said. "I’ll call on you once the police are ready to speak to you."
"Are you going to call them now?"
"The procedure for calling in the police is complicated. I’d hoped that we could settle this fairly and quickly, but since you insist—"
"I can wait while you call them is all," I said. "I don’t mind."
He tapped his ring again and I braced for the blast.
"Go!" he yelled. "Get the hell out of my office, you miserable little—"I got out, keeping my expression neutral. He wasn’t going to call the cops. If he’d had enough evidence to go to the police with, he would have called them in the first place. He hated my guts. I figured he’d heard some unverified gossip and hoped to spook me into confirming it.
I moved down the corridor lightly and sprightly, keeping my gait even and measured for the gait-recognition cameras. These had been installed only a year before, and I loved them for their sheer idiocy. Beforehand, we’d had face-recognition cameras covering nearly every public space in school, but a court ruled that was unconstitutional. So Benson and a lot of other paranoid school administrators had spent our textbook dollars on these idiot cameras that were supposed to be able to tell one person’s walk from another. Yeah, right.
I got back to class and sat down again, Ms. Galvez warmly welcoming me back. I unpacked the school’s standard-issue machine and got back into classroom mode. The SchoolBooks were the snitchiest technology of them all, logging every keystroke, watching all the network traffic for suspicious keywords, counting every click, keeping track of every fleeting thought you put out over the net. We’d gotten them in my junior year, and it only took a couple months for the shininess to wear off. Once people figured out that these "free" laptops worked for the man—and showed a never-ending parade of obnoxious ads to boot—they suddenly started to feel very heavy and burdensome.
Cracking my SchoolBook had been easy. The crack was online within a month of the machine showing up, and there was nothing to it—just download a DVD image, burn it, stick it in the SchoolBook, and boot it while holding down a bunch of different keys at the same time. The DVD did the rest, installing a whole bunch of hidden programs on the machine, programs that would stay hidden even when the Board of Ed did its daily remote integrity checks of the machines. Every now and again I had to get an update for the software to get around the Board’s latest tests, but it was a small price to pay to get a little control over the box.
I fired up IMParanoid, the secret instant messenger that I used when I wanted to have an off-the-record discussion right in the middle of class. Darryl was already logged in.
> The game’s afoot! Something big is going down with Harajuku Fun Madness, dude. You in?
> No. Freaking. Way. If I get caught ditching a third time, I’m expelled. Man, you know that. We’ll go after school.
> You’ve got lunch and then study hall, right? That’s two hours. Plenty of time to run down this clue and get back before anyone misses us. I’ll get the whole team out.
Harajuku Fun Madness is the best game ever made. I know I already said that, but it bears repeating. It’s an ARG, an Alternate Reality Game, and the story goes that a gang of Japanese fashion-teens discovered a miraculous healing gem at the temple in Harajuku, which is basically where cool Japanese teenagers invented every major subculture for the past ten years. They’re being hunted by evil monks, the Yakuza (aka the Japanese mafia), aliens, tax inspectors, parents, and a rogue artificial intelligence. They slip the players coded messages that we have to decode and use to track down clues that lead to more coded messages and more clues.
Imagine the best afternoon you’ve ever spent prowling the streets of a city, checking out all the weird people, funny handbills, street maniacs, and funky shops. Now add a scavenger hunt to that, one that requires you to research crazy old films and songs and teen culture from around the world and across time and space. And it’s a competition, with the winning team of four taking a grand prize of ten days in Tokyo, chilling on Harajuku bridge, geeking out in Akihabara, and taking home all the Astro Boy merchandise you can eat. Except that he’s called "Atom Boy" in Japan.
That’s Harajuku Fun Madness, and once you’ve solved a puzzle or two, you’ll never look back.
> No man, just no. NO. Don’t even ask.
> I need you D. You’re the best I’ve got. I swear I’ll get us in and out without anyone knowing it. You know I can do that, right?
I know you can do it
So you’re in?
Come on, Darryl. You’re not going to your deathbed wishing you’d spent more study periods sitting in school
> I’m not going to go to my deathbed wishing I’d spent more time playing ARGs either
> Yeah but don’t you think you might go to your deathbed wishing you’d spent more time with Vanessa Pak?
Van was part of my team. She went to a private girl’s school in the East Bay, but I knew she’d ditch to come out and run the mission with me. Darryl has had a crush on her literally for years—even before puberty endowed her with many lavish gifts. Darryl had fallen in love with her mind. Sad, really.
> You suck
> You’re coming?
He looked at me and shook his head. Then he nodded. I winked at him and set to work getting in touch with the rest of my team.
I wasn’t always into ARGing. I have a dark secret: I used to be a LARPer. LARPing is Live Action Role Playing, and it’s just about what it sounds like: running around in costume, talking in a funny accent, pretending to be a superspy or a vampire or a medieval knight. It’s like Capture the Flag in monster-drag, with a bit of Drama Club thrown in, and the best games were the ones we played in Scout Camps out of town in Sonoma or down on the Peninsula. Those three-day epics could get pretty hairy, with all-day hikes, epic battles with foam-and-bamboo swords, casting spells by throwing beanbags and shouting "Fireball!" and so on. Good fun, if a little goofy. Not nearly as geeky as talking about what your elf planned on doing as you sat around a table loaded with Diet Coke cans and painted miniatures, and more physically active than going into a mouse-coma in front of a massively multiplayer game at home.
The thing that got me into trouble were the minigames in the hotels. Whenever a science fiction convention came to town, some LARPer would convince them to let us run a couple of six-hour minigames at the con, piggybacking on their rental of the space. Having a bunch of enthusiastic kids running around in costume lent color to the event, and we got to have a ball among people even more socially deviant than us.
The problem with hotels is that they have a lot of nongamers in them, too—and not just sci-? people. Normal people. From states that begin and end with vowels. On holidays.
And sometimes those people misunderstand the nature of a game.
Let’s just leave it at that, okay?
Class ended in ten minutes, and that didn’t leave me with much time to prepare. The first order of business was those pesky gait-recognition cameras. Like I said, they’d started out as face-recognition cameras, but those had been ruled unconstitutional. As far as I know, no court has yet determined whether these gait-cams are any more legal, but until they do, we’re stuck with them.
"Gait" is a fancy word for the way you walk. People are pretty good at spotting gaits—next time you’re on a camping trip, check out the bobbing of the flashlight as a distant friend approaches you. Chances are you can identify him just from the movement of the light, the characteristic way it bobs up and down that tells our monkey brains that this is a person approaching us.
Gait-recognition software takes pictures of your motion, tries to isolate you in the pics as a silhouette, and then tries to match the silhouette to a database to see if it knows who you are. It’s a biometric identifier, like fingerprints or retina-scans, but it’s got a lot more "collisions" than either of those. A biometric "collision" is when a measurement matches more than one person. Only you have your fingerprint, but you share your gait with plenty other people.
Not exactly, of course. Your personal, inch-by-inch walk is yours and yours alone. The problem is your inch-by-inch walk changes based on how tired you are, what the floor is made of, whether you pulled your ankle playing basketball, and whether you’ve changed your shoes lately. So the system kind of fuzzes out your profile, looking for people who walk kind of like you.
There are a lot of people who walk kind of like you. What’s more, it’s easy not to walk kind of like you—just take one shoe off. Of course, you’ll always walk like you-with-one-shoe-off in that case, so the cameras will eventually figure out that it’s still you. Which is why I prefer to inject a little randomness into my attacks on gait-recognition: I put a handful of gravel into each shoe. Cheap and effective, and no two steps are the same. Plus you get a great reflexology foot massage in the process. (I kid. Reflexology is about as scientifically useful as gait-recognition.)
The cameras used to set off an alert every time someone they didn’t recognize stepped onto campus.
This did not work.
The alarm went off every ten minutes. When the mailman came by. When a parent dropped in. When the groundspeople went to work fixing up the basketball court. When a student showed up wearing new shoes.
So now it just tries to keep track of who’s where, when. If someone leaves by the school gates during classes, their gait is checked to see if it kinda-sorta matches any student gait and if it does, whoop-whoop-whoop, ring the alarm!
Chavez High is ringed with gravel walkways. I like to keep a couple handsful of rocks in my shoulder bag, just in case. I silently passed Darryl ten or fifteen pointy little bastards and we both loaded our shoes.
Class was about to finish up—and I realized that I still hadn’t checked the Harajuku Fun Madness site to see where the next clue was! I’d been a little hyperfocused on the escape, and hadn’t bothered to figure out where we were escaping to.
I turned to my SchoolBook and hit the keyboard. The web browser we used was supplied with the machine. It was a locked-down spyware version of Internet Explorer, Microsoft’s crash-ware turd that no one under the age of forty used voluntarily.
I had a copy of Firefox on the USB drive built into my watch, but that wasn’t enough—the SchoolBook ran Windows Vista4Schools, an antique operating system designed to give school administrators the illusion that they controlled the programs their students could run.
But Vista4Schools is its own worst enemy. There are a lot of programs that Vista4Schools doesn’t want you to be able to shut down—keyloggers, censorware—and these programs run in a special mode that makes them invisible to the system. You can’t quit them because you can’t even see they’re there.
Any program whose name starts with $SYS$ is invisible to the operating system. It doesn’t show up on listings of the hard drive, nor in the process monitor. So my copy of Firefox was called $SYS$Firefox—and as I launched it, it became invisible to Windows, and thus invisible to the network’s snoopware.
Now that I had an indie browser running, I needed an indie network connection. The school’s network logged every click in and out of the system, which was bad news if you were planning on surfing over to the Harajuku Fun Madness site for some extracurricular fun.
The answer is something ingenious called TOR—The Onion Router. An onion router is an Internet site that takes requests for web pages and passes them onto other onion routers, and on to other onion routers, until one of them finally decides to fetch the page and pass it back through the layers of the onion until it reaches you. The traffic to the onion routers is encrypted, which means that the school can’t see what you’re asking for, and the layers of the onion don’t know who they’re working for. There are millions of nodes—the program was set up by the U.S. Office of Naval Research to help their people get around the censorware in countries like Syria and China, which means that it’s perfectly designed for operating in the confines of an average American high school.
TOR works because the school has a finite blacklist of naughty addresses we aren’t allowed to visit, and the addresses of the nodes change all the time—no way could the school keep track of them all. Firefox and TOR together made me into the invisible man, impervious to Board of Ed snooping, free to check out the Harajuku FM site and see what was up.
There it was, a new clue. Like all Harajuku Fun Madness clues, it had a physical, online and mental component. The online component was a puzzle you had to solve, one that required you to research the answers to a bunch of obscure questions. This batch included a bunch of questions on the plots in do¯jinshi—those are comic books drawn by fans of manga, Japanese comics. They can be as big as the official comics that inspire them, but they’re a lot weirder, with crossover storylines and sometimes really silly songs and action. Lots of love stories, of course. Everyone loves to see their favorite toons hook up.
I’d have to solve those riddles later, when I got home. They were easiest to solve with the whole team, downloading tons of do¯jinshi files and scouring them for answers to the puzzles.
I’d just finished scrap-booking all the clues when the bell rang and we began our escape. I surreptitiously slid the gravel down the side of my short boots—ankle-high Blundstones from Australia, great for running and climbing, and the easy slip-on/slip-off laceless design makes them convenient at the never-ending metal detectors that are everywhere now.
We also had to evade physical surveillance, of course, but that gets easier every time they add a new layer of physical snoopery— all the bells and whistles lull our beloved faculty into a totally false sense of security. We surfed the crowd down the hallways, heading for my favorite side-exit. We were halfway along when Darryl hissed, "Crap! I forgot, I’ve got a library book in my bag."
"You’re kidding me," I said, and hauled him into the next bathroom we passed. Library books are bad news. Every one of them has an arphid—Radio Frequency ID tag—glued into its binding, which makes it possible for the librarians to check out the books by waving them over a reader, and lets a library shelf tell you if any of the books on it are out of place.
But it also lets the school track where you are at all times. It was another of those legal loopholes: the courts wouldn’t let the schools track us with arphids, but they could track library books, and use the school records to tell them who was likely to be carrying which library book.
I had a little Faraday pouch in my bag—these are little wallets lined with a mesh of copper wires that effectively block radio energy, silencing arphids. But the pouches were made for neutralizing ID cards and toll-book transponders, not books like—
"Introduction to Physics?" I groaned. The book was the size of a dictionary.
Excerpted from Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
Copyright © 2008 by Cory Doctorow
Published in May 2008 by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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To be honest, I picked this book up because it had a giant red X on the front. It reminded me of those signs that tell you not to do something, but you do it anyways. To be completely, bluntly, and brutally honest and simple, this was a damn good book. It's the kind of book that I could really see on a required reading list in a high school English class. It's a truly important book that deserves to be on shelves among To Kill a Mockingbird, Lord of the Flies, and The Catcher in the Rye...okay, maybe not right now, but in maybe ten years. It's an important book that any teenager can learn something from, whether it's how to hack a free Xbox or score a new girlfriend/boyfriend by smashing your homemade computer. Little Brother is a book about freedom--freedoms of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Read it. Buy it. Love it.
Great book. I got this as a gift for Christmas. It was 1337. I liked how Doctorow actually went into detail about all the technical things. Most books don't say about that. Cory Doctorow is amazing.
This was picked up on a whim. I found it hard to put down. The action had me caught up and involved immediately. I've now shared with some of my high school students and they seem to be enjoying the book as well. This is great for me to see, since my students do not typically read anything.
LITTLE BROTHER presents a pretty scary picture of the way things could be if terrorist threats continue, and politicians keep funding the Department of Homeland Security with no thought as to how this might victimize the average innocent American. There is already an incredible amount of technology devoted to "spying" on the citizens of our country, and we normally don't give it a second thought. This book will make you think - and not just a little bit. Marcus is a seventeen-year-old tech wizard. Granted, he often uses his skills for less than ethical reasons, but he doesn't hurt anyone. When a terrorist attack destroys the Bay Bridge near his home in San Francisco, he and several friends are captured by police (DHS) as they are attempting to help a fallen companion. They become the victims of frightening interrogation and torture. When Marcus finally gains his freedom, he vows to take back America from the out-of-control Department of Homeland Security. Using his vast techie skills, he creates an alternate Internet called Xnet, which utilizes the old XBox game system. Marcus becomes known as M1k3y and develops a huge group of supporters. Together, they attempt to undermine the government agencies determined to destroy the true meaning and protection of the United States Constitution. Cory Doctorow has created a modern-day 1984. Set in the not-too-distant future, this book attempts to show what could happen if we sit back and allow the government to whittle away at our rights to "protect" us from terrorism. It gives a whole new meaning to the idea of terrorism and fear within our own government. LITTLE BROTHER is full of adventure and intrigue. A lot of the suspense comes from all the technical tricks Marcus brings to the story. Some of the details might prove too much for a struggling reader, but any tech/geek teens will not be able to read it fast enough.
Let me tell you something about this book... I actually liked it! I didn't think i would like it but i did, even though when it got started talking about technology i was completely lost. I have this on my e reader but im going to buy a paper book of it! I recommend it to anyone! Its amazing book about teenagers feeling if there American rights are violated and practicing their freedom of speech! That might of made the book sound boring but I swear to you it s not :P (It took me a year to actually read this book and I wish I read it sooner. Its very good!)
This is a great book for some of the higher aged slightly more mature teenagers. In some of the reviews I have read people belittle all the "tech talk". But that is exactly what makes this book great. Even if you do not understand it fully, or at all for that matter, it's what really makes this book. There is also a bit if sexual content but it is really not that big of a deal.
How safe do you feel from terrorists? Now let me ask you this question. Would you be willing to sacrifice your privacy and have your every move watched so you could feel protected from terrorists? The idea of trading privacy for security is the main theme presented in the book that I read in my media literacy class,  Little Brother by Cory Doctorow. Doctorow utilizes the main character Marcus to portray his belief that the government should not be able to constantly watch what people are doing.  Throughout the novel, I truly felt like I was with Marcus dodging the government. However it was the detail in which Doctorow went into explaining the complex hacking procedures that was the downfall of this book. I often became bored while reading these tedious procedures that although informative, were just too long (often multiple pages), and unless you are interested in computer engineering, were just plain boring. Marcus is not alone in his adventures and him and his friend Daryl, are an inseparable duo, and are masterminds when it comes to dodging surveillance.  I could really relate to paling around with my friends while reading all of the exciting situations that those two get into. As expected when dodging the government, things don't always go well for Marcus and his friends.  This is apparent when Marcus and his friends get captured by the Department of Homeland Security.  This is one of the most exciting parts of the book, and you will find yourself on the edge of your seat waiting to find out what happens to them. This book turns a complete 180 and almost turns into a love story when Marcus meets Ange.  Ange is a girl who Marcus meets at a "jamming" meeting.  They hit it off right away and Marcus starts to turn all of his attention to Ange. This is when the book begins to turn into a love story as Marcus and Ange begin the typical teenage relationship.  I could put myself in Marcus' position as a teenager in a committed relationship. The main theme is again seen when Marcus and Ange go to an illegal concert.  This reminded me of Vietnam war protests as even though the people at the concert were doing nothing wrong, the government gassed and arrested innocent teenagers. This was another example of the main theme as the government interrupted this peaceful protest, so that the rest of the world could feel safe from these "terrorists". As you can see, this idea of trading privacy for security is shown throughout the book. Doctorow's view on this issue, that government should not be able to intrude on people's privacy, is shown through the main character Marcus and the rest of the "jammers". Although I don't know if I agree with Doctorow, I do think that this is a great read, that's only flaw is the boring rants on hacking.
Don't let our fear of terrorist take away our freedom.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Little Brother when it was recommended to me. William Gibson with kids? A YA version of Daemon? As it turns out, it’s both and neither, a surprisingly political story of how the security state can spawn resistance from the unlikeliest quarters. This was Doctorow’s first YA novel, and he’s nailed the voice: Marcus, the 17-year-old protagonist and first-person narrator, is completely believable as a bright, disaffected high-schooler in a San Francisco set about six months in the future. (It probably seemed more distant in 2008, when the book came out.) When Marcus is picked up for no good reason and interrogated by the Department of Homeland Security following a terrorist attack on the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge, he goes through a well-rendered and realistic progression of confusion, anger, fear, shame, and desperation. When not in custody, he’s cocky and insecure, brave and scared, interested in girls, computers and online games in ever-shifting order, and his thoughts and feelings come out both clearly (to the extent he can figure them out himself) and in a way that doesn’t sound at all like an adult trying to write like a kid. Marcus is good company throughout this tale. The types of surveillance and social controls DHS uses in this book are only a degree or two beyond what American security agencies can actually do today, and again are completely believable. This leads to a number of political debates about how much freedom ought to be exchanged for (possibly illusory) security and whether people who aren’t terrorists ought to object to being treated as if they are in the name of preventing the next attack. This could easily have become a screed but doesn’t; the debates occur naturally and usually sound like real people talking rather than pundits. Marcus uses his mastery of cyberspace and his wide network of online friends to undermine the DHS’ heavy-handed rule over the post-attack city. His tactics are clever, but not so much so that you wonder why he isn’t in college already. You don’t have to be a hacker yourself to understand what the budding cyber underground is doing even when the tech talk flies thick and heavy. Unlike Daemon, there’s not much suspension of disbelief required for most of this novel. What happened to the fifth star? The ending is a bit too deus ex machina for my liking; it’s the only part of the book for which I had to suspend disbelief in a major way, and feels like Doctorow couldn’t otherwise figure out how to get himself out of the hole he’d dug. Ange, Marcus’ love interest/partner-in-crime, is a bit too much the teenage boy’s fantasy figure – hot, into computers and hacking, and sexually aggressive, with an extraordinarily tolerant mother, to boot. (Yes, this book is aimed at male readers, but still.) Goodreads, please note: we need half-stars. Yes, we do. Little Brother is the kind of propulsive YA storytelling you don’t have to be a teenager to love. If you liked late William Gibson or early Neal Stephenson, you’ll like this. It’s a fast, fun read that has a lot on its mind.
Negatives: Explicit romance and a high amount of cussing. However, there isn’t a single book better for government study. It would be fabulous for book clubs and government debates. I would highly recommend this book for teachers. It would be a way to get average students involved in their rights. There are so many rights that teenagers (and adults!) take for granted. This book would definitely remind people how important rights are.
This is a cautionary tale about what could happen when you give up your freedom and rights in the name of national security. It is fiction, of course, but this author did a lot of research about technology, and recent history. Very relevant to what is going on today with lots of information. We listened to it as an audiobook during our 10 hour drive from Monterey to Vegas. The beginning was kind of boring to me as an adult, but that changed quickly.
I was expecting an action packed teen beats the world kinda book but it was a bit too hard to understand this book goes into freat depths about goverment,technology and afew adult scenes i as a 14 year old cant find a good clean book WITH NO HORRIBLE TRASHY CONTENT
I didn't expect to enjoy this as much as I did. I thought it would be light reading for the train, but I was totally sucked in and finished it in a day.
Very interesting #12jaivier*hops
The ideas behind this book are interesting and based in very real world problems. Doctorow's writing leaves something to be desired, however. It's good but not great. I enjoyed this book but think Doctorow's writing could really benefit from an editor (or perhaps a better editor than he currently has).