This book is a collaboration between Melpomene, the muse of Tragedy, and Erato, the muse of lyric poetry. Melpomene is definitely driving -- the central theme of this novel is (mostly) horrible things
happening to (mostly) horrible people. But she hands the keys over to Erato for some periodic joyrides. The end result is that I highlighted 30 sections of text, and I likely would have done more except that I was driving too hard for the end to notice any of the lyrical poetry that I'd enjoyed prior.

Specifically, we begin on a dark country road with a small pickup truck, the frame shuddering, the gas tank empty, hurtling through the night from origins yet unknown.

The other big thing I noticed about this book is that each of the four major sections -- written in omniscient third person around the perspective of one of the (mostly) horrible people -- has a decidedly different voice, which fits their respective POV characters like a glove. But fortunately, the author drops his perspective into the book, 4% of the way in, with this glorious glistening gemstone:

He didn’t believe in God, fate, or coincidence, but that left precious little to actually explain anything, and sometimes the right asteroid just strikes the right planet so the lizards lose a turn, and the motherfucking monkeys take over.

Wow, right?