Meet U. A talented and uneasy figure currently pimping his skills to an elite consultancy in contemporary London. His employers advise everyone from big businesses to governments and, to this end, expect their 'corporate anthropologist' to help decode and manipulate the world around them all the more so now that a giant, epoch-defining project is in the offing.
Instead, U. spends his days procrastinating, meandering through endless buffer-zones of information and becoming obsessed by the images with which the world bombards him on a daily basis oil spills, African traffic jams, roller-blade processions, zombie parades. Is there, U. wonders, a secret logic holding all these images together a codex that, once cracked, will unlock the master-meaning of our age? Might it have something to do with South Pacific Cargo Cults or the dead parachutists in the news? Perhaps, perhaps not.
As U. oscillates between the visionary and the vague, brilliance and bullshit, Satin Island emerges, an impassioned and exquisite novel for our disjointed times.
