This is an immensely entertaining book that consistently subverts the reader's expectations. It is both a farce and a noir thriller (a neat trick, as I can't recall reading anything like it before), and an astute and biting commentary on literature and the book business. Aspiring (or actual) writers will enjoy Colapinto's hapless protagonist, Cal Cunningham, a would-be novelist whose authorial struggles suck him into a vortex of lying, cheating, stealing, and killing (n.b., I am not giving away plot points). But any reader who appreciates a great plot will love it, too. For Colapinto expertly lures the reader through a series of reversals, each topping the last. Just when Cal appears to disappear down the toilet, he pops back up, like a buoyant and stubborn turd. Incidentally, Cal shares this quality with another key character, and the interaction of these two turds (yes, I really did write that) propels the novel to a satisfying and suitably absurd ending. That Colapinto effects these surprises without straining credibility (too much) is a credit to the screwball atmosphere he establishes at the beginning of the novel.
The novel has a few weak points. There are some jarring notes (mostly factual inaccuracies)--minor issues that would have been revised with closer editing. For example, Cal takes a flight from Newark, NJ to Burlington, VT on a 747. The venerable "jumbo jet" is many things, but a short-haul regional aircraft is not one of them. 737 is probably what the author intended. The first part of the novel is set in the early 1990s, yet the author describes "double-breasted smoothies with their gold cards and Rolexes". While "double-breasted smoothies" is a neat phrase, evocative of some sort of exotic bird, the image as a whole belongs more in power-suit 1980s of Tom Wolfe's "Bonfire of the Vanities". The early 90s were a return to single-breasted suits (with proliferating buttons and pleated pants), and Amex's Platinum Card (first offered in 1984) had superseded its gold card in terms of cache. But I am quibbling. (Pointing these things out suggests more about my own failings than it does about the author's.)
A more significant problem is the weakness of one of the major female characters, Janet; Colapinto never really gets beyond his physical description of her. Indeed, Colapinto spends too much time on the whole dwelling on people's appearances. The novel is a good example of my inverse theory of external and internal characterization: the more vivid the physical description of a character, the less vivid the inner (psychological and emotional) description. (Yes, I just invented that, though others have expressed the same idea in different terms. "Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!") Cal is psychologically and emotionally vivid, but his appearance is ambiguous enough that the reader's imagination is free to conjure up any number of faces that would fit. Janet's appearance is described in great detail, yet the reader never really understands her very well. Perhaps this is owing to the novel's voice (first person, from Cal's perspective), and Janet is to the reader as Cal sees her. But this explanation is still unsatisfying, for it fails to explain Cal's devotion to her. But enough about that. As that great rabbit philosopher, Thumper, once observed: "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all." So, back to to the nice.
Colapinto's book is excellent. Cal's reliably bad decisions are the leitmotif of this very funny and engaging story. Despite Cal's failings (or perhaps because of them) the reader never tires of, nor loses sympathy for him in this memorable novel. Highly recommended.