JPod: A Novel

JPod: A Novel

Douglas Coupland

Language: English

Pages: 448

ISBN: 1596912332

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Ethan and his five co-workers are marooned in JPod, a no-escape architectural limbo on the fringes of a massive game-design company. There they wage battle against the demands of boneheaded marketing staff who torture them with idiotic changes to already idiotic games. Meanwhile, Ethan's personal life is being invaded by marijuana grow-ops, people-smuggling, ballroom dancing, global piracy and the rise of China. Everybody in both worlds seems to inhabit a moral grey zone, and nobody is exempt, not even his seemingly strait-laced parents or Coupland himself.

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Romania. Romanians will do anything. No more weepy crap about, We were friends—how could you have abused our friendship? They'd be slitting each other's throats." We heard a cat yowl from behind our cubicle wall: Kaitlin. "You people are driving me absolutely fucking crazy. All you ever talk about is junk." I looked over at her—brown hairs Van de Graaffing from her forehead; a pimple she'd been hoping nobody would notice caked in skin product; small, perfect teeth. I was wondering what her kiss

that if you don't have a character to begin with, everything and nothing is in character." "That's really fucking depressing." "And what if it is?" "It's like Melrose Place." "Melrose?" said Bree. "That was a hundred years ago." John Doe got excited. "I watched the whole series on DVD. Remember when the script writers couldn't come up with personalities or characteristics for the characters? They simply made them all go psycho, one by one." Bree nodded. "It worked, didn't it?" Evil Mark

simply go with the flow. "A whisky sour." "Two whisky sours." We were surrounded by women dressed as Carmelit as and men dressed like bi-curious toreadors. As I'd grown up in this sort of space, I felt quite at home. I decided to push the furniture issue. "Kam, look, about your furniture—it's just that Greg never asked me, and—" "Ethan!" I turned around. "Dad?" He was dressed in his favourite Casanova outfit, a toreador's cap rakishly adhered to his skull. "Ethan, I never thought I'd see

simply go with the flow. "A whisky sour." "Two whisky sours." We were surrounded by women dressed as Carmelit as and men dressed like bi-curious toreadors. As I'd grown up in this sort of space, I felt quite at home. I decided to push the furniture issue. "Kam, look, about your furniture—it's just that Greg never asked me, and—" "Ethan!" I turned around. "Dad?" He was dressed in his favourite Casanova outfit, a toreador's cap rakishly adhered to his skull. "Ethan, I never thought I'd see

no idea what Dad's plan was, but we pulled out from the pumps ahead of Lyle. "Dad, what are you—?" I heard Lyle's hog approaching us from behind. Once we were around the corner and out of sight of the gas station, Lyle gunned his throtde to pass us. Dad veered sharply into the other lane, walloping the bike, sending Lyle flying out into the roadside weeds. The hog somehow managed to get snagged beneath the truck. "Dad! Holy shit! The bike's stuck." The metallic scraping reminded me of trash

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