But Gibson warns (perhaps remembering Johnny Mnemonic, which Keanu aside I actually rather liked…):
I should warn you, should you happen to bump into me in the meantime, that I don’t regard films of novels as being the ultimate form in which a novel may be lucky enough to manifest. I regard *the novel* as the ultimate form in which the novel manifests. And if I should suspect that you think otherwise, I’m liable to snap at you.