Douglas Coupland
returns with a hilarious new novel that explores tech
culture, Ronald McDonald, lesbian separatists, and the
nightmare of being Googled.
If Douglas
Coupland’s hilarious new novel, JPod
(Bloomsbury, $24.95), reminds you of his 1996
Microserfs, don’t worry—that’s
exactly what he had in mind. But while that earlier novel
explored techie geeks finding themselves at the
beginning of what turned into the dot-com bubble of
the late 20th century, JPod is set firmly in the age
of Google.
JPod is an island of cubicles at a big computer
company where the novel’s main characters are
toiling away at a skateboard video game that their
bosses seem intent on ruining—first the hapless geeks
are forced to add a “hip and edgy”
turtle character, and then a new regime of management
wants to turn the whole thing into a fantasy adventure
involving flying carpets and magical sprites. As revenge the
coders create a hidden parallel game that involves a
homicidal Ronald McDonald on a terrifying killing
spree. All of this goes on in the background of the
novel’s much more complicated story line, which
includes a pot-farming mom, a Chinese smuggler of
refugees who sidelines as a professional ballroom
dancer, lesbian separatist survivalists, and an
obnoxious writer named Douglas Coupland. And if all that
isn’t enough, Coupland interweaves pages of
numbers and letters disguised as quizzes. (Can you
find the rogue digit in the first 100,000 places of pi?)
Coupland spoke
from his home in Vancouver, Canada, and—typically for
the author of Generation X—the
conversation veered off into fascinating tangents
covering everything from Mary Tyler Moore to Nigerian
spam e-mails.
The last time we spoke, you talked about how you hate
traveling and how you are, technologically
speaking, a semi-Luddite. And yet in this book
you’re traipsing around China and talking the
geek talk of the tech world. You do a very
convincing job of not being the voice that’s
presented in your work.
Oh, thank you. Uh, that is a “thank
you” situation, right?
Of course. It’s baffling to me that in talking to
you, I get a different picture of you than someone
reading the book would get of you and the life you lead.
I do go to China, and I know people who have, so
I kept on grilling them, “What’s it
like?” I thought the funniest comments were about how
bad the air was. Which of course becomes a running
joke.
Microserfsand JPod run on parallel tracks. Does it
worry you at all that people will accuse you of
rehashing a previous book?
I don’t think so. The tone of the two is
so different, probably because things have changed so
much in the last 10 years. I think with
Microserfs there was really the sense of something
new and “1.0” being created in the
culture. It wasn’t just the bubble and all the
money, although that was certainly part of it. There was a
“Wow,” especially with Apple, like this
is something fundamental and amazing that’s
going to transform society. And nowadays the money is gone,
and it’s not transforming society; it’s
just finding out what’s the capital of
Michigan. Everything’s different, but
nothing’s different.
I think the
characters in JPod are much more amoral, and they
certainly inhabit a much more amoral universe. Certainly
Vancouver, where the book takes place—we
don’t make anything in Vancouver, we just push
electrons around with a stick, and we flip real estate.
We’re kind of like a bedroom community to
global piracy. We’re living in a concentrated
version of the present here. And in a way, the city itself
is part of the book.
I have to share this with you in light of the
book—I got a press release this morning
about a series of new DVDs starring Ronald McDonald,
and they’re designed to encourage kids to exercise.
Oh, boy. I saw this commercial about two weeks
ago where Ronald’s become a “real
person.” It’s kind of disturbing. If I
remember it correctly, people are sitting talking
about something, and Ronald is walking by and saying,
“Oh, but did you know blah blah blah?” I guess
it brings up the whole question of, “Well, do
you ever take your makeup off? Or were you born that
way, like Krusty the Klown?” If you think about
spokesmascots too deeply, it gets very dark very soon.
Do you think the Lucky Charms leprechaun has a
drinking problem? [Alonso laughs] He lives alone;
all he does is terrorize kids, and he has no other known job
activity.
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Duralde is the arts and entertainment editor of The
Advocate and author of101 Must-See Movies for Gay Men(Advocate Books)