I just finished Scott Westerfeld's "So Yesterday," a novel about cool-hunters working for Nike who stumble upon a shoe that's so amazingly cool that they can't figure out why it bears a red-circle-slash No Logo modifier. Nor how said cool anti-shoe relates to the mysterious disappearance of their boss, the head cool-hunter wrangler. The book is a fast-paced, smart-talkin', trivia-spoutin' mystery thriller that I read through in about a day and a half, laughing aloud time and again. I mean, how can you resist a book with passages like this one:
The guy riding in the truck's elevator was muscular and lean, very dark. He was wearing a trucker cap and cowboy boots, jeans and a mesh shirt that showed off his muscles. In a friendlier context I would have pegged him as a gay bodybuilder doing an ironic take on NASCAR fandom. But alongside the other two, he looked more like one of the many hopefuls sent down by central casting to try out for the part of THUG #3 in a hip new thriller.
