What is it with writers putting themselves in their books? Brett Easton Ellis went from being a kind of bored god to me  to totally frickin insane (in a bad way) in Lunar Park, and Douglas Coupland did much the same by sauntering into JPod in an exercise in twee pointlessness. It’s a sequal of sorts to Microserfs, one of my favourite novels, but where ‘serfs has feeling and characters that seem like *actual people*, Jpod has pointlessness and a bunch of totally un-charming cardboard cut outs. The narrative gets more and more lazy as it goes through and just feels like a first draft, complete with gimmicky typography stunts. Really disappointing. Not at all recommended.