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BOOK (1991)

David Wilson

Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture Douglas Coupland (St Martin's Press)

Marketing wizards conspire to capture the minds of Generation Y - millennial social media-addicts invested with a sense of entitlement. But the upcoming tribe that grabs headlines would be nowhere without its grumbling, grungy predecessor whose name breathes low-key cool: Generation X.

Generation X consists of those who attained maturity but not satisfaction during the late 1980s. Credit for the birth cohort's label goes to the book Generation X, by novelist Douglas Coupland.

The Canadian was born in 1961 - just late enough to claim 'baby bust' Gen-X credentials. He claims descent from 'sour-faced' preachers, who 'scoured the prairies thumping Bibles'. But Coupland's slacker classic refuses to preach. Instead, it snipes and skewers the burger bar vacuity of postmodern life, from a shifting range of perspectives. The core cast consists of three twentysomething service industry serfs loosely based near the desert in Coupland's old California neighbourhood, Palm Springs. Meet Andy (the barman narrator), Dag (a fatalist who sees life as mostly 'filler') and the hapless Claire.

The narrative the drifters construct in this surprisingly formal novel fans into chapters governed by a three-part structure. The first part unfolds over a picnic. Andrew, Dag, and Claire swap stories that shed light on their discontent. Next section: the triad is joined by new stragglers - Andy's brother Tyler, Dag's lover Elvissa, Claire's yuppie-from-hell kind-of boyfriend Tobias, and more. In the novel's most momentous event, Dag wrecks a car, antagonised by its bumper sticker. In the final part, more characters materialise but social coherence evaporates and the 'plot' fizzles out.

On the surface, Generation X, which takes its name from Billy Idol's 70s band, appears vapid - a wordy 'whatever' that should be forgotten, like the jokes the rootless job-hoppers mumble. But Coupland's debut won monumental acclaim. Critics hailed it as the Catcher in the Rye for the 90s with Coupland a slacker Jack Kerouac.

One reason for its success - so at odds with its tone - is its intriguing characterisation, which befits the 'X-er' author, who owns no furniture but collects meteorites. Another is the deft digs at subculture targets such as minimum-wage 'McJobs' performed 'grudgingly to little applause' - you can almost see the frowns on the pasty faces of the burger flippers.

The novel is still more remarkable because its influence on how human cycles segment continues. Next up: those born between the early 90s and now. Their label? Generation Z - a flippantly McModern but logical coinage likely to please the author whose latest release pushes the boundaries of classification. Its title? Generation A.

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