Monthstalgia #1: Wyrm - The Book I Refuse to Reread

Welcome to Monthstalgia, a new monthly series where I dig into geeky things I remember fondly from the past. Books, games, software, obscure tech - anything that left a mark on my younger self.

The catch? These are memories, not reviews. Some of these things I haven't touched in decades. And sometimes, I'm keeping it that way on purpose.

Wyrm (1998) by Mark Fabi

There's a specific category of books from your formative years: the ones you loved so intensely that you're now terrified to reread them. Wyrm is one of those for me.

I read it as a teenager in the late 90s, probably around 1999 or 2000. At the time, it felt like the book was written specifically for my interests. Computers? Check. Chess? Check. Tabletop role-playing games? Check. A thriller plot tying them all together? Absolutely check.

What I Remember

The novel follows a computer chess program that becomes something... more. The story weaves together:

• Computer science and AI - before machine learning was mainstream, when chess programs were the benchmark for artificial intelligence
• Chess - not just as background flavor, but as a central element of the plot
• Tabletop RPGs - specifically, a fictional game that becomes eerily significant
• 90s internet culture - back when cyberspace still felt mysterious and slightly dangerous

The convergence of these elements felt genuinely original. Most techno-thrillers of that era treated computers as magic boxes. Wyrm felt like it was written by someone who actually understood the culture - the late-night coding sessions, the obsessive chess analysis, the elaborate fantasy worlds built around a table with dice and character sheets.

Why I Won't Reread It

Here's the thing about formative books: they exist in a specific context. I was a teenager. The internet was still novel. AI meant chess programs and chatbots, not large language models. The convergence of geek subcultures that the book celebrated was still somewhat niche.

If I reread Wyrm today, one of two things happens:

• It holds up, and I discover it's genuinely good - which would be wonderful but somehow feels unlikely
• It doesn't hold up, and I lose something precious - a perfect memory replaced by a flawed reality

I choose to keep the memory. Some things are better preserved in amber than examined under fluorescent light.

And this doesn't just apply to books - it's true for places you've visited that felt magical at the time, food that tasted perfect in a specific moment, or even personal interactions that meant something precisely because of who you were then.

Should You Read It?

If you have nostalgia for late-90s geek culture - when chess, D&D, and hacking felt like a secret shared language - Wyrm might resonate. The book captures a moment when these subcultures were starting to converge but hadn't yet been absorbed into the mainstream.

Just don't ask me if it's "good." I genuinely don't know anymore. I only know it was good for me, at that time, and that has to be enough.

Monthstalgia is a monthly series about geeky things I remember fondly. Next month: another memory I may or may not have the courage to revisit.