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Based on the cover image and the initial reviews I skimmed, I thought the character Purity, or Pip, was the central figure, but it's not at all predominately about a young woman with money problems living in an Oakland squat and spending a lot of time online. The title's "broad irony" is, by the end, sort of delicious. The whole J. Franz atmosphere of ickiness is an acquired taste in general -- in this it seems amplified/ickier -- but I found myself savoring the flavor after about 300 of its 563 pages. Best example: it's suggested that "Purity" was conceived after her father buggered her mother after they'd divorced -- importantly, father buggered mother thrice and after each completion mother visited the bathroom. This suggests that mother extracted goo from pooper and properly inserted it in baby maker -- an audacious suggestion, akin to the talking poo in The Corrections. It's important that father buggered mother thrice because it reflects the extent to which the author deploys backstory -- he doesn't just drop a few paragraphs or a scene or a chapter or 40 pages before resurfacing in the present. He drops 150 pages of a character's history, a novella's worth of depth -- he develops it, has patience with it, and pushes it to where it syncs with the rest of the story in a satisfying way. There's a fundamental confidence/lack of timidness that I respect. (It's laughable to critique this as the author's "contempt for readers," per the NPR review, or, better yet, "self-indulgent nonsense." Dark-casted and consistently intelligent thoroughness isn't contempt for a reader.) Time seems to pass as sections read days ago take on a temporal sheen. Memory comes into play and we're grateful for reminders of pages read more than a week ago. But all in all the author hauls off on backstory in a way that works with the story as a whole. The bits upfront about Purity and the guy she meets at Peet's, the ramshackle squat circa the Occupy era in Oakland really didn't do it for me -- but it served as a low-level entry for the rest to raise itself up. And of course it did because the author has complete authority -- the arc is going to go upward throughout as the character and thematic depth deepen. Again, it's not a story about a young woman in Oakland -- more so it follows two smart ambitious talented guys, one in Philadelphia at Penn, the other in East Germany around the time the Wall fell. The expository sections comparing communist totalitarianism and contemporary internet activities definitely knocked this one up a star for me. Throughout, there are slant autobiographical suggestions or commentary on the state of Franzen that I appreciated (beyond the bits about the famous writer). There's a review on here saying there's a possible parallel between JF and DFW and Tom Aberrant and Andreas Wolf -- Tom with his marriage troubles, writerly ambitions, and undergrad years in the Philly area echo Franzen's experience, and Wolf with his mommy issues and suicide echo DFW -- but I'm not sure about this since the bit from Tom's perspective seemed written at first in almost a cheap, adverb-replete DFW imitation before it slipped back into something closer to the established narrative voice. Interesting parallels to think about at least. The relationship stuff in general was always icky and combative, hostile, overrational, bitter, wounded -- and it's clear that the author has been through the shit. The overall gist is an ickiness to everything, an atmosphere of ugh that at the end is lifted a little by new love and a silly dog and some good rallies on the tennis court at dusk. But generally this isn't a novel that weaves with the fabric of actual reality -- it's structured like a comedy (protagonist starts off low but rises up by the end through a series of misadventures) but without so much as a single genuine LOL. There's insufficient light and all love is tainted by the inevitability of irrationality, selfishness, obstinacy. There's also the Franzen Formula, which is really the DeLillo formula but which Franzen makes more obvious -- the thing about characters' personal struggles extrapolated as cultural or societal struggles. Reminded me of Eggers's recent The Circle, which was easier reading, more enjoyable but also not as thorough and no one would ever accuse Franzen of a YA vibe. I think what maybe holds Franzen back a bit is the sense that he's in too much control, lacks a hole in the head to let the light in, distrusts intuition and the natural looseness of life -- there's no real serious spiritual side to his stuff, usually the mark of the highest order of writers. But I admire the structure, the intelligence, the immersion in an atmosphere I don't want to live in forever, the character depth, the attempt to tie everything together and wrap it all up -- by the end I felt like a novel I distrusted at first and thought pretty meh had totally redeemed itself. Worth it if you stick with it, with good characters who achieve 3D animation, some active semi-riveting dramatic scenes, enough interesting exposition especially about the Internet, a Phi Beta Kappa-worthy novel on transparency and the inability to achieve any sort of purity. It's the work of a skillful, often insightful, ambitious writer concerned with getting good grades -- no real chance therefore of it being a so-called failure. I think I'll read his first two novels now while my eyes are still blinded by the darkness up his ass (edit: started his first novel and put it down after a few pages -- not right for now, maybe later).