PKD books are never filled with sunshine and bunnies, but this one has one of the most depressing beginnings of any I've read so far. The protagonist is stuck in a meaningless bureaucratic job in a stagnant and oppressive uber-socialist future USA, and his only enjoyment (which has become a hollow enjoyment) is the playing of "The Game" with other bored cube-rats in other countries ("The Game", amusingly enough, involves feeding a computer translation of English into a another language back into the translator to get mangled English - a game a good number of people I know have played with BabelFish).
But once is rescued/entrapped/employed by the bizarre, god-like entity the Glimmung, the novel takes on the character of a fever dream that is equal parts deep philosophical inquiry, total bullshit, raw despair, surreal imagery and often hilarious absurdity. Here all of Dick's obsessions, excesses, and off-kilter humor somehow work in harmony to keep the grandiose (and yes, often awkwardly written) proceedings from collapsing into a mess - it instead somehow generates its own captivating dream logic. And when he undercuts his heavy ponderings and symbolism with humor or pop trash, he doesn't do it in an arch or coy, post-modern way, he seems to be insisting, "No, the profound and the trash, they really are deeply intertwined for anyone who is really looking."
