If you took C. M. Kornbluth's snarky satire and changed the language to be far more Ellisonesque in its euphemism then you might get some idea of the tone of this book, which can border on the hysterical.
Our protagonist is a naif scion of one of the filthy richest corporates in a not particularly nice at all dystopian media overloaded you get the picture society. All is good for these really rich people, apart from the habit that people, particularly the off the grid and untraceable freeboot society have of inserting bullets into their bodies at high velocity, or occasionally blowing them up.
Such an happening interrupts a planned corporate-marriage-merger, and our not so with it main character starts to get his eyes opened.
His father--imagine J. Jonah Jameson with an extremely high daily quota of f-bombs and tarts to get through, and you will have some idea of his personality--is not overly pleased, as when invulnerable super corporate families get penetrated, ratings plummet.
If you'd like an example of some of his father's eloquence:-
"'Anyway, I feel for you, son! I do. I was watching that date—and holy fucking shit was it boring—but whatever! I was there with my girls, my snacks, and we were all cheering and going on, and then I couldn't fucking believe a freeboot! They should all be rounded up and fried in oil! Motherfuckers.''
"'They’re off the system,' said Joelene, with surprising annoyance. 'That’s why they can’t be located and rounded up, as you say.'
Father leaned far forward and squinted. 'You’re here, too? Jesus fuckercakes, Michael! Can’t you fart without her anymore?' He smacked his face with one of his thick hands. 'God, son, what do you have in your ball sack? Muffins?'"
The rest of it continues as the bad son finds out what his father (and mother) have really been up to, and more about anti-corporate activities.
4 out of 5