It's no coincidence that I picked up Po Bronson's "Bombardiers" at a time when the real-world financial markets are in turmoil. It's been on my bookshelf for a while now; not even really in the "to read" pile -- more accurately the "I happen to own this book" pile. Several years ago I read another of his works, "The First $20 Million Is The Hardest" and I wasn't wild about it. Of course, I internally compared it with Douglas Coupland's "Microserfs", against which most Silicon Valley novels are likely to pale.
Regardless, "Bombardiers" is, according to Bronson's foreword, an experimental novel, in the sense that he sat himself down in a closet, listened to a single R.E.M. song on infinite repeat, and wrote a novel without worrying about whether adverbs were the devil, ignoring most of what he "knew" about writing, and avoiding at all costs the so-called three-line break that most authors use to break up scenes within chapters.
What results is a fairly pleasant novel. Even the aforementioned adverbs read as irony instead of incompetence, which is a plus. Bronson uses language to good effect in this novel; it's peppered with puns, ironies, and Tom Swifties. Sure, they distract the reader, but in such a way that one feels that one is sharing a joke with the author, not groaning at a literary faux pas or clumsy hacking.
This is a novel about the absurdities of financial markets and the people who sell its products. In it Bronson invites us to observe the world -- the sales floor -- of the Atlantic Pacific corporation and its denizens, including Sid Geeder, the King of Mortgages, Regis Reed, the Prince of Mortgages, Eggs Igino, the New Genius, Lisa Lisa, with her swollen feet; Clark Kalinov and his petty tyranny; Coyote Jack and his insane sales quotas.
This is a satire of the truest sort: it is not a roast of the financial markets, it's a skewering. The salespeople at AP are faced with three progressively ridiculous bond issues to sell, and their cocksure innumerate boss Coyote Jack gives them increasingly impossible quotas to fill. Finally, of course, the whole thing implodes when the AP braintrust has the bright idea to actually turn the hostile takeover of a sovereign nation into a bond issue.
In Bronson's world, an implosion -- your name being "mud on the Street" -- is a minor, temporary setback. The busted Atlantic Pacific is completely recast with a brand new corporate identity even before the last shambling casualty of the previous incarnation leaves the building. There's always the expectation of a juicy government bailout just this side of defeat. In this context, though, a bailout as large as $700 billion is too far-fetched, too much a fantasy. Single-digit billion-dollar bailouts are hard enough to swallow. Ah, the shortsightedness.
Ultimately, Bombardiers is an entertaining read but fairly unmemorable. Most of the characters are single-sided. Bronson deals effectively with midstream point-of-view shifts (mostly to cover what would ordinarily be a three-line break) and as mentioned wields the language with some skill. It's both sad and terrifying that the subject matter of the novel could be so timely, so accurate, and so unnerving over a decade since its first publication.