In his seventh book, Douglas Coupland does a lot of things right. During the 1990s, Coupland became the President of Generation X, it seemed, by debuting his literary career with a smart, deadpan look at the "twentysomethings." Now that he, and his audience, has grown up a bit, his writing takes a quieter approach to the critique of the American Dream.

Susan Colgate, a washed-up TV actress and former child beauty queen, was a hit in the 80s with a great sitcom and a young fresh face. She married a rock star to get him citizenship, and that's all she got. Her world seems so lackluster (but yet she IS a Hollywood starlet) that even a plane crash leaves her the sole, unscathed survivor. She simply stands up and walks away.

Meanwhile in LA-LA land, John Johnson also is having some career problems of the Hollywood variety, but he's older and a man, so he can't quite pull off the "life transition" he wants as easily as Susan. They have never met, but he sees her in the haze of his dream. . . . from his hospital bed. . . . after a mysterious "illness". . . . as the television drones on and on. He meets her casually in the weeks that pass, and then she suddenly disappears. Again. The chase begins.

In Coupland's novels, however, the chase is never fast nor furious. It's the subtle, loosely woven banter and exclamatory dialogue between the main and secondary characters that suddenly takes flight and results, on page 311 (in the newly released paperback version, that is) in an ending.

The guts in the middle of Miss Wyoming reveal a typical Coupland-esque America: LA is great unless you live there, rock stars rule until you are one, ambition is silly, and soullessness the norm. Coupland writes for who he sees as the first generation to view popular culture as its religion. In that respect, this latest effort does not disappoint.

Take Susan's mother, who will do anything including bribing a pageant judge and moving to another state to get her daughter to win. What does her daughter do? Throws it all away. Take John's "breakdown" in which he wishes to be roaming wild like Kerouac but is immediately disgusted with himself, his countrymen, and the dirt upon his feet. Coupland pokes fun at plastic surgery, stage mothers, mini-vans, stay-at-home- moms, luxury, fitness, and television (always) in order to basically tell us what he always does: everyone is searching for something.

The book gets some laughs, but not the way the previous ones have. Microserfs (1995) and Shampoo Planet (1992) are stronger novels but now seem rather dated, albeit fun to read. Perhaps Coupland will never surpass Generation X. Heard anyone say "McJob" lately? B Judy B.

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