This is a book I've wanted to read for a while, being a fan of the comic strip and a fan of books that try to do this kind of thing, to explode things that exist in a weird pop cultural parallel dimension. And this does that pretty well, but it's also strangely of its time (the eighties)-- there's the persistent fascination with nuclear war, for one, that seems, I don't know, not quite quaint but still a little overblown. Ditto for the sections on Freud-- even by the eighties, wasn't that a dead letter? The explicit sex is there, too, taken I think from Kundera but maybe goosed by reading Sukenick or someone like that? It's hard to say.... That isn't to say there's not lots to like here, including some pretty amazing wordplay, some real moving sections about death and dying in the book's final movement, and finally, the portrait and words of the Producer are truly amazing, really funny riveting stuff. So, a mixed bag.