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I bought this novel years ago from a used book store because of the Pynchon blurb. I finally started reading it because Scarlett Thomas mentioned it in her preface to Bright Young Things and because it seemed like a good follow up to Sputnik Caledonia.
I'm not really sure why I loved this book, but I did. The narration is deadpan, the settings are bleak, and the action is repetitive and insane. Yet it was hilarious and propulsive and engrossing. Reminded me of Raymond Carver and Lars Iyer and Withnail and I as well as oft-mentioned-in-other-reviews Kafka.