Very 1990s in the best and most spiritually anaemic way: suburban childhood, fluorescent adulthood, pop-cultural debris, emotional numbness and soft apocalypse.

It's about growing up after religion has left the building but not taken its shadows with it. It is structured as a series of short, drifting pieces rather than a conventional novel — part confession, part cultural diagnosis, part sad little weather system. Coupland is writing about people who have every surface available to them and no convincing metaphysical floor underneath. Pool water, malls, cars, childhood animals, office life, sex, grief, God-shaped absence. The whole thing has that thin Gen X ache: irony trying very hard not to become prayer.

Pocket Books paperback edition. Cover clean with light handling wear; pencil marginalia throughout. Solid reading copy.