I was on a train back from Newcastle yesterday. The man opposite me played Tetris on his BlackBerry the whole way. I read Player One by Douglas Coupland. I bet the exeperiences were slightly similar. I felt like I was ticking through a set of really interesting ideas, lining them up in my head, assuming that they'd fit together at the end, which they did - but I wasn't really reading a story.
I'm sure I'll read more of Mr Coupland's books but I'd almost rather read his lists or his notes. It seems like he's the perfect novelist to write the something-that's-not-a-novel that must be just around the corner.
