I honestly have no idea why people like this book. Why? Will someone tell me why? The whole thing can best be summed up by the fact that, while our protagonist is looking at a pile of lumber in his front yard his son says it looks like Jenga. This not only leads said character to cry because of how Jenga was once his son's favorite game, but also to *compare life to Jenga.* That's roughly the level of depth you're dealing with here. Since I can't understand what's meant to be good, I should at least say what's not, huh?

1) The prose is 21st century tricky - sentences without verbs, lots of ellipses, witty dialogue and lists - but with no apparent purpose.
2) The first person narrative doesn't allow for any ironic distance between you and the main character. So if you find him an insufferable jerk, as I did, the book's a hard slog. It needn't be, I like lots of books filled with insufferable jerks, but not this one.
3) Of the two conceits in this novel, neither of which could actually do any literary work on its own, one is unbearably stupid, the other is hackneyed (there are *2 television series* featuring middle-aged drug dealers). There's nothing worse than cliched quirk.
4) The whole thing is roughly as mawkish as a 19th century novel in which the 'orphan' finally finds his mother, who is an heiress forced to give up said orphan by pirates acting on the order of her father, an evil businessman, who is thrown into gaol and has his possessions confiscated by the magistrate, who then gives them on to the mother and orphan. That's mawkish
5) It's about as funny as 300 pages of dad jokes can be I guess, i.e., you can't miss all the time, but you can miss most of it.
6) None of the characters are at all interesting: all the women are hot (that is also their only characteristic), and all the men - bar the one who is all blue-collar and traditional manly man - are dysfunctional, or assholes; the children are all innocent and charming. For real, there are hot, pleasant men, and there are dysfunctional, interesting, ugly women.
7) More personally, his attempt to transfer an Australian accent to print is awful; for a start, we don't drop the 'h' from the start of words.

Perhaps I could go on. I feel bad, because the book is about important issues, and I'm sure it's hard as hell to write about lives being shaped by modern technology while also writing a satisfying narrative about financial crisis. I guess his other books are really good, and I'll probably give him another chance, since he's ambitious and can write well when he's not using the aforementioned trickery. But honestly, unless you think that being topical is the prime duty of a novel, avoid this one.