This book caught my eye just as I was walking out the door of the bookshop. I've read all of Couplands stuff and love seeing a new title on the shelf. At the counter I made a brief connection with the saleswoman, another Coupland fan, but the shop phone started ringing and nothing came of it.
Then I fell ill, a horrible virus, and was shacked up in bed for two days. I read "Eleanor Rigby" in a few hours, hiding beneath the covers. I know when you're sick you feel sorry for yourself anyway, but I started empathising with the characters in all their lonliness and despair. They seem very real people with real problems and yet there's something amazing in there as well. I think that's one of Coupland's gifts, beeing able to bring magic into the mundane.
I was so sorry to finish this book, and I haven't felt like that about a book in yonks. I hope the next person enjoys it as much.