Quaint yet contemporary, addictive yet superficial, quite unlike anything else yet utterly familiar, funny yet sooo depressing - there's a distinct Godard feel in there too (he too personified style over substance; thank God he eschewed drugs) - this is consumerism's decadent endgame, affluence's aimlessness plus globalism's uprootedness, the aboutissement (or coming to fruition) of Just What Is It Makes Today's Homes So Different, So Appealing, yet with an eerily provincial, at-one-remove feel (only a Canadian, one feels - North American yet not 'American' - could have written it; this is a very Canadian book!), the chameleon observer or innocent abroad. 'Some people don't have to play the hip game; I like Elvissa, but she can be so clued out.' Is he for real, this narrator? Or Claire: 'Girls can be so froufrou'; 'VSTP: very severe taste problem, that lady'. Exactly how tongue in cheek is this? Worth remarking on too is the loose, at times somewhat Decameronesque, or Sheherazad, structure - aimlessness embodied! Get the original edition - style and content were never better fused.