Seven Oaks Magazine.

Dedicated readers of Seven Oaks know that I am a fan of Douglas Coupland, so much so that when I get the latest novel, I usually stay up the first night and read until I see the back cover. Jpod was no different. As I was reading his latest novel, however, a question popped into my head that had not been on my radar before: Is Douglas Coupland really an asshole? And why would he want to insert himself as a character in the bizarre world of Jpod?

As I was grappling with these questions, I was reminded that when I had the opportunity to meet him at a reading of his novel Eleanor Rigby, he signed my book with “love Doug, XOxoOX“ [big kiss, big hug, little kiss, little hug, big hug, big kiss]. Now those aren’t the words and symbols of an asshole, are they? I should think not. In Jpod itself, however, the character of Douglas Coupland plays an almost “Newman” like role to the novel’s protagonist, Ethan, showing up to blackmail, taunt, and ridicule him. So I am left with the question: who is the real Douglas Coupland? (And, are Seinfeld references still universally understood?)

What I do know about Douglas Coupland is that I enjoy his fiction because reality never limits his characters or their life experiences. Take Ethan, a seemingly typical Vancouverite and our novel’s leading man. He works as a gamer, and one day comes home from his work, where he is stuck in Jpod (an assignment based solely on the fact that his last name starts with a j), to find a boat load of smuggled Chinese refugees hiding in his home. His straight laced, stay-at-home mom actually runs her own marijuana grow-op and often requests an accompaniment from her son for such routine events as collecting large sums of cash from bikers and disposing of the bodies of people she accidentally kills. His father, who is still married to Ethan’s mother, is dating a woman who was too young from Ethan to date when the two attended high school together. Oh wait, and the dangerously connected human smuggler of those Chinese refugees, Kam, becomes one of Ethan’s friends, as well as his father’s ballroom dance buddy. And, of course, Douglas Coupland himself becomes Ethan’s nemesis, his boss and owner of his thoughts.

The disjointed narrative, which includes pages of seemingly random computer codes and recipes for instant noodles, is something like post-modern fiction on steroids. This may irritate some, but I found it interesting, if a little bit cheeky.

The book’s setting is an equally surreal version of Vancouver, highlighting and magnifying our city’s idiosyncrasies, which makes it all the more entertaining reading for locals or those familiar with the city. Those unfamiliar with the west coast zeitgeist, or less familiar with Coupland’s unusual sense of humour, may come to the conclusion that the author really is an asshole. But more discerning and experienced readers know better: Jpod is worth the read.