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Walter's fever-dream of a novel is unhinged, literally, from the "reality" that America experiences after 9/11, a tragedy never named in this strange disjointed meditation on our national psychology of paranoia and self-obsession in the face of horrible tragedy. The central character and narrator is a NY cop named Brian Remy who is having trouble with "gaps" in his memory, as he stumbles through encounters with a string of characters and incidents that may or may not be what they seem to be. Walter is such a great satirist, and many of the set-ups are chillingly on-point, but the conceit wears a bit thin, at least it did for me. Long after I cared one way or the other, the plot tumbled along, all the while Remy protesting that he doesn't really know what's going on. Or why. Which is, presumably, a point to be made, but with a bit more economy.