One of Philip K. Dick’s stranger non-science-fiction novels, which is saying something, because even when he removes the androids and cosmic paranoia trapdoors, he still writes like reality is being held together with cheap glue and a nervous tic.

Set in 1960s Oakland, this follows small business owners, salesmen, dreamers, frauds, and anxious men trying to convince themselves they are still in control of their lives. Instead of spaceships or alternate timelines, Dick gives us used-car lots, property schemes, status panic, bad decisions, brittle masculinity, and the quiet horror of ordinary American capitalism doing what it does best: making everyone feel like they are one invoice away from spiritual collapse.

It is very much one of his “realist” novels, but the PKD machinery is still there underneath: unstable perception, class pressure, false confidence, people mistaking desperation for destiny. A good one for readers who want to see the domestic/suburban underside of Dick’s imagination rather than the big sci-fi brain-melt classics.

Tor trade paperback. First U.S. edition October 2007; this is the first trade paperback edition, October 2008. Some visible general handling/wear to cover and pages, but solid/readable.