Ah, office life. So rife for parody. So fertile with corporate absurdity. Where mankind's unique lunacies are simultaneously coddled and dismissed. The things that make us uncomfortable and disgruntled are handled with pig-skin gloves and ice tongs, and the things that make us excited and content are considered extraneous to the bottom line. Where back sides are so well-covered that they're almost impossible to kiss. Is there any better fodder for literature, television, or movies?Joshua Ferris' debut novel, "Then We Came to the End," comes along at a time when the corporate zeitgeist is experiencing a resurgance in parody and satire, and some would say he joins the ranks of those who get it right, who manage to sock the nail squarely on the head. I won't go that far.I give the guy props for aiming high. His book, written in the first-person plural, is told from the view of over half a dozen different characters. The effect is more than a little dizzying, although it does give the book the sense of collective panic and confusion that seems to pervade the cloth-lined cubicles of most white-collar rat mazes. His quirky characters -- Tom Mota (unhinged idealist), Chris Yop (office supply thief), Carl Garbedian (emasculated pill popper) -- they all sing and dance like very real people, and their interactions are well-played and telling, even if they aren't also very interesting.What would've made them interesting would've been some sort of coherent story line, a plot hub around which they all could've spun. Instead, the most consistent thread to the tale is the overarching dread each of them has about being fired, the final notice when their lives' greatest suspicions are confirmed: you are not necessary or important. The only real antagonist in this book is the Almighty Pink Slip, it's an idea, and (even more so) it's the uncertainty and chaos that hides behind the idea. As far as Ferris' drones are concerned, Life After Layoffs is just as sticky a wicket as Life After Death.It's not a bad premise, and Ferris' decision to deliver it from the perspective of the collective lends the story a lot more weight than it might otherwise have. After all, equating the loss of a job with the loss of a life is the bailiwick of all good office parody; have we become so disconnected from our souls that our identity is tied up in pay grades and job labels? (Ever heard this exchange before? "After all, I'm Assistant Regional Manager." "No, you're Assistant TO the Regional Manager.")Unfortunately, Ferris' book, in spite of its clever rambling, in spite of how deftly the protagonists pass of the narration without missing a stride, in spite of how nimbly office politics are parlayed into things like emails, office chairs, and cubicle knick-knacks -- in spite of all of this, it doesn't really pack much punch until the last few pages, when the real humanity of the characters is finally allowed to stand out. The final lines of the novel are really just very, very good stuff, but it comes at the tail end of a lot of ham-fisted meandering, and it makes you wonder just how good the book could've been had Ferris not tried so hard to be funny, and had instead tried harder to be real.He could've taken a lesson from Max Barry's "Company," another book about office politics, but one that goes more whole-hog with its satire. The slim tome starts with the theft of a donut and swiftly crumbles in on itself in a deliciously over-done send-up of every element of office life, from the dark overlords at Human Resources, to the pale, squinting I.T. guys. The novel follows the trail of Stephen Jones, the new guy at a corporate behemoth called Zephyr Holdings. Jones barely has enough time to warm the seat of his chair before consolidations and lay-offs rock the business. Inter-office politics lock down all progress, salespeople are ordered to REDUCE productivity, the buttons in the elevator are all backwards, and no one -- absolutely no one -- can even tell Jones just what the company does, anyway. Also, there's still a donut thief on the loose.Although Barry's book is a bit more juvenile than Ferris', that also means it's having a lot more fun. Jones goes on a quest to untangle the quagmire of memos and inter-departmental backstabbing that seems to be the lifeblood of Zephyr, and along the way he uncovers a dark, fundamental truth behind the way all businesses are run: employees are unnecessary. Ferris spends over half of his novel asking the old "Am I really significant?" question, while Barry jumps straight into explaining the answer."Company" gets a little kooky near the end, and in that way, it's sort of the anti-thesis of "Then We Came to the End." The body of one wants the conclusion of the other. But, even if "Company" takes to fantastical lengths the Swiftean logic of big business, it still comes out ahead in terms of sheer entertainment and thought-cud. Barry doesn't have the literary grace of Ferris, but he does manage to put together a more revealing, a more pertinent, and a funnier story.I guess it boils down to what kind of boss you are: do you like clever busy work, or do you want results at all costs? Ferris gives you one, and Barry gives you the other. Either way, it beats actually working.
Anyone who has worked in corporate bureaucracy would find something to laugh about in this book; which tells the story of a company that exists only as a research lab for the authors of the "Omega Management System". This should give you a good idea of the book's tone: There are stories — legends, really — of the “steady job.” Old-timers gather graduates around the flickering light of a computer monitor and tell stories of how the company used to be, back when a job was for life, not just for the business cycle. In those days, there were dinners for employees who racked up twenty-five years — don’t laugh, you, yes, twenty-five years! — of service. In those days, a man didn’t change jobs every five minutes. When you walked down the corridors, you recognized everyone you met; hell, you knew the names of their kids. The graduates snicker. A steady job! They’ve never heard of such a thing. What they know is the flexible job. It’s what they were raised on in business school; it’s what they experienced, too, as they drove a cash register or stacked shelves between classes. Flexibility is where it’s at, not dull, rigid, monotonous steadiness. Flexible jobs allow employees to share in the company’s ups and downs; well, not so much the ups. But when times get tough, it’s the flexible company that thrives. By comparison, a company with steady jobs hobbles along with a ball and chain. The graduates have read the management textbooks and they know the truth: long-term employees are so last century. The problem with employees, you see, is everything. You have to pay to hire them and pay to fire them, and, in between, you have to pay them. They need business cards. They need computers. They need ID tags and security clearances and phones and air-conditioning and somewhere to sit. You have to ferry them to off-site team meetings. You have to ferry them home again. They get pregnant. They injure themselves. They steal. They join religions with firm views on when it’s permissible to work. When they read their e-mail they open every attachment they get, and when they write it they expose the company to enormous legal liabilities. They arrive with no useful skills, and once you’ve trained them, they leave. And don’t expect gratitude! If they’re not taking sick days, they’re requesting compassionate leave. If they’re not gossiping with co-workers, they’re complaining about them. They consider it their inalienable right to wear body ornamentation that scares customers. They talk about (dear God) unionizing. They want raises. They want management to notice when they do a good job. They want to know what’s going to happen in the next corporate reorganization. And lawsuits! The lawsuits! They sue for sexual harassment, for an unsafe workplace, for discrimination in thirty-two different flavors. For — get this — wrongful termination. Wrongful termination! These people are only here because you brought them into the corporate world! Suddenly you’re responsible for them for life? The truly flexible company — and the textbooks don’t come right out and say it, but the graduates can tell that they want to — doesn’t employ people at all. This is the siren song of outsourcing. The seductiveness of the subcontract. Just try out the words: no employees. Feels good, doesn’t it? Strong. Healthy. Supple. Oh yes, a company without employees would be a wondrous thing. Let the workers suck up a little competitive pressure. Let them get a taste of the free market. The old-timers’ stories are fairy tales, dreams of a world that no longer exists. They rest on the bizarre assumption that people somehow deserve a job. The graduates know better; they’ve been taught that they don’t.The book makes me laugh, when it's not busy scaring the crap out of me because it is a little too real.
Do You like book Company (2007)?
**Contains Spoilers, Probably because I can't really tell the difference at the moment**Company was a strange book. Like nothing I would ever usually read, but I think going into this book I was expecting something a little different. Perhaps if I was expecting nothing (which was pretty hard, since I read Lexicon by Max Barry and absolutely loved it) I might have enjoyed this book more. It took about half of the book for me to really get into it, though the second half was amazing.The story for the first half of the book was almost like short skits, and reminded me almost like something you would see on television, a sitcom maybe. It followed Freddy, Holly, Elizabeth, Jones, Rodger, and a couple of characters who didn't show up quite as much as them, and I'm probably leaving some off on accident. Jones, who is the main character, soon finds out he doesn't even know what the company, Zephyr, does. As he goes on a quest to find this out, he soon find that there is a huge secret on the 13th floor. The company, monitoring the employees, like lab monkeys to see what business strategies work best with employees to get maximum work and increase their bottom line.That being said, this was something that could happen, but was still pretty fantastical at moments. I was expecting something more realistic, I suppose? Either was it was an interesting read and there were a few turns and twists that I really didn't see coming. Most of the characters were strange, but stood out and were interesting. The small jokes that went throughout the book, like the doughnut one, were highly amusing and kept the story going. It was a pretty fast read and keeps you engaged most of the time (middle is a little slow).
—Holly
Charley, our 11-year old, recommended that I read Max Barry's "Company," and I can see why. If I were 11 years old, it would be my favorite book of all time, hands down, with the possible exception of the Harry Potter series. Irreverent, funny, strange, cynical in a sort of hopeful way, "Company" is like "Catch 22" for the Clearasil set. But there is appeal too for the adult reader. Anyone who has ever worked in a large bureaucratic organization - the Navy perhaps? how about the US Government? - where reorganizations seem to occur randomly and where new Vision Statements and Mission Statements appear and disappear and don't every really say anything useful will likely enjoy this novel too.Max Barry's novel is set in a seemingly fairly typical company in a skyscraper with managers' offices featuring large picture windows on each floor. Assistants and junior executives work in endless arrays of cubicles. A new employee - "Jones" - arrives at the company and, after reading the meaningless Vision Statements and Mission Statements realizes after a few days that no one he meets actually knows what the company produces. We're in Dilbert territory, people ...As he searches for the purpose of the company, hilarity ensues. The fun in this book is in its depiction of the absurd details of office life and how nearly true they are. For example, the floors of the company's building are numbered in reverse so that you have to go up to the top to get to #1 ... There is an amazingly beautiful secretary who drives a high-end sports car and never seems to do any work ... Office politics include a gentleman who has launched an investigation into who ate his donut ...Farcical, for sure. Satirical, certainly. And there is a kernel of truthiness in all the seemingly random occurrences.Good choice, Charley. Now, about your homework ...
—Robert Poor
I read this novel in a single sitting. Seriously. There wasn’t a single part of the book that I didn’t enjoy. The characters are realistic, the plot is eerily plausible, and the twist is unexpected enough to be entertaining, without coming completely out of left field. But I still felt strangely… unfulfilled.It took me quite a while to figure out why. It's interesting, it's well written, and the premise is great. But...I think, in the end, it felt somewhat claustrophobic (which may have been the point). The characters were difficult to get to know, and there was such a focus on the plot -- or, rather, on the premise -- that the characters themselves were somewhat lost in the mix.In saying that, I did enjoy this book. I'd just recommend one of Max Barry's other books over this one.
—Jo
