On reflection I hate this book. Two wealthy, beautiful, American, white people fall in love and get married. They are supported in their idleness by life-affirming people of colour. He and she claim to be punks and class warriors whilst sucking up to her big corporate daddy, wallowing in privilege and growing rich through what can only be described as insider trading- because- see- he's a time traveller and he's got the dope on the coming dotcom boom. Ah, but there's the rub! Time travel isn't all fun: for one thing he never goes anywhere interesting (Wot, no ancient Romans? wot no, spacemen?) and secondly its dangerous and embarrassing. Sadly, he can't control it- it's a genetic aberration (yeah, right!)- and what if he disappears in the middle of the wedding ceremony and embarrasses daddy in front of his powerful friends? The ending is tragic- long drawn out and dripping with molasses (Oh, just get on with it!)- but not to worry, because they have a perfect child and he (the traveller) isn't entirely dead because earlier versions of him keep popping up in his family's future.
I'm sure there's a film in the pipeline- probably starring a soulful Jim Carrey. There has to be. Perhaps it already came out and flopped.