I really disliked Eleanor Rigby, and I am a big Douglas Coupland fan, so I don’t think it’s that I just didn’t get it. I enjoyed his earlier books because I thought they were fresh and subtle and interesting. I love his observations on technology, his obsession with the end of the world, his sense of irony that doesn’t get in the way of the quasi-religiousness of his novels. But I feel like out of his last 6 or 7 books, probably 5 or 6 have been contrived, predictable and kind of OBVIOUS. Like they’re being written by a robot programmed to think he’s Douglas Coupland. And that makes me sad. Like I should read microserfs again.

Hey Nostradamus! was good though.