By Magdalena Hernandez

This is no novel for old fogeys. There's the breakneck pace and the snarky narration. An alienated protagonist, J. P. Yates, prone to behaving reprehensibly and rashly. Perhaps most damning of all, there's the matter of Yates's job. It's kind of hard to explain what he does, especially to anyone not addicted to a BlackBerry.

You see, Yates is a futurist. An expert in figuring out the next big thing in business, recreation, the arts, politics. A professional optimist. A world-renowned and highly paid lecturer. Someone who jets first-class to speaking engagements at international conferences and corporate retreats.

Sounds like a pretty good gig, right? The problem is, he's also in the throes of a midlife crisis, increasingly cynical about his high-profile, high-flying position.

So goes The Futurist, a picaresque thriller rooted in the anxiety of post-9/11 geopolitics, written by James P. Othmer, AS'83. Heaven knows, the cascading misfortunes Yates faces over the course of this novel would put anyone into an anxious state.

A sampling: En route to the Futureworld Conference in South Africa, Yates learns his longtime girlfriend has dumped him. In Johannesburg, he watches on TV the ongoing tragedy of several adventure tourists slowly asphyxiating aboard the first civilian "space hotel," which he had endorsed. Then he witnesses the deaths of several South Africans at a soccer riot.

A new love interest, a young woman named Marjorie, appears in Yates's hotel room as a "gift" from conference organizers. She's an Afrikaner whose family was killed after apartheid. Yates, moved by her plight, wants to help her.

He ends up eviscerating his hotel room's minibar. The next day at the conference, he delivers a speech he thinks will nail the coffin shut on his career. He confesses to being a shaman. He knows nothing. In fact, he says, he's the "founding father of the Coalition of the Clueless."

But Yates's audience responds as if he's delivered the Sermon on the Mount. The buzz is so great that soon he'll be greeted by enthusiastic chants of "Clueless. Clueless."

Not that everyone appreciates his philosophy. He receives the first of many threatening e-mails from an anonymous source. Thugs beat him up at the hotel.

But cluelessness has its privileges. Yates is hired by two middle-aged men named Johnson and Johnson, who are acting in behalf of a secretive quasi-government organization.

The Johnsons want him to fly around the world and take the pulse of other cultures "while imagining the absolute worst." Yates's ultimate goal: Forecast and prevent the next anti-American tragedy.

First stop: Greenland, to visit a friend. Yates thinks his stay in the small, ice-covered nation will quiet his nerves. He's dead wrong.

Next: Milan. While Yates is at a busy gallery of shops and eateries, a woman riding by on a Vespa explodes. He's questioned by Italian detectives, who believe he had a role in the terrorist act, but he gets released thanks to a spy-cum-model he met at a club.

As the Coalition of the Clueless gains traction, Yates's next gig is at a sumptuous corporate retreat held at Deja Vu, a private island in Fiji. Marjorie tracks him down there, and they enjoy a relatively idyllic time, finally getting to know each other.

Then Yates learns his father has died. He and Marjorie fly to his childhood home in Pennsylvania. A Johnson finds him at the funeral and forces him to the (fictional) country Bas'ar, where he's supposed to endorse the war-torn land's economic recovery, to attract investors.

The novel's denouement reveals who's been sending the threatening e-mails. And a violent ending and the discovery of a betrayal deliver on the ominous notes that have sounded throughout the book.

Phew. At times, the plot seems to owe a debt to the contemporary political thrillers that riddle the bestseller lists. But an undercurrent of genuine sorrow and righteous anger rescues The Futurist from being a typical tale of global intrigue.

Othmer writes skillfully, displaying a knack for clever insights and riffs. His take on downloading music from a laptop to an iPod, for instance: "Kind of like sex, what the two small machines are engaged in. Digital sex. Cultural sex."

The first-time novelist, an advertising executive by day, knows how to plumb the black humor in corporate hijinks. The Fiji meeting, with its fire-dancing executives and a mock virgin sacrifice, resembles a demented beachside frat party. Celebrity business leaders, such as trend forecaster Faith Popcorn, come in for their lumps, too.

Othmer is particularly good at pointing out problems that arise at the intersection of government and big business, such as the PR machine that attempts to plant "seeds of economic recovery" in Bas'ar. The reader senses the disaffection and the air of moral compromise that have grown more evident in the United States since 9/11.

Yates stands as a sympathetic cog in the machine, one who "cynically critiques the world each day," the book says, "and resents his lack of ability or desire to change it."

His reactions represent a sane response to an increasingly insane world. But his snarkiness creates a problem. Yates is so mocking and self-destructive that he comes close to alienating even the most cynical reader. The bitterness wears thin.

Perhaps "Yates" is meant to recall poet William Butler Yeats, who penned "The best lack all convictions, while the worst/Are full of passionate intensity.

Indeed, conviction and purpose don't seem in the cards for the Futurist.

By the novel's end, though the plot's suspense has been resolved, Yates's moral development is still in limbo. The ambiguous ending rings true. But it's hard not to be disappointed that this midlife crisis hasn't resulted in an uplifting personal transformation.

Still, it's testament to Othmer's powers that the reader cares so much about his crazed and battered antihero. The book's dark wit, surefooted storytelling, and relevant moral questioning likely augur a bright professional future for a new author.

Magdalena Hernandez, MBA'02, is a senior editor.

The Net Worth Workout: A Powerful Program for a Lifetime of Financial Fitness, by Susan Feitelberg; AMACOM; 2006

You exercise and eat right, but do you devote the same energy to your financial health? Susan Feitelberg, MBA'90, has combined her core strengths to help you do just that.

The JPMorgan Chase financial adviser and competitive triathlete uses accessible physical-fitness concepts to show readers how to manage their money. Just as weightlifting builds muscle, for instance, smart saving boosts financial strength.

Tools to track your money, a glossary of financial terms, and various exercises unravel the wealth-building complexities. Part personal growth, part personal finance, this guide will whip investment weaklings into shape.

Moving Up in the New Economy: Career Ladders for U.S. Workers, by Joan Fitzgerald; ILR Press; 2006

As America evolves into a knowledge-based economy, millions of people are getting left behind. Has upward mobility become just a pipe dream?

Not necessarily, says Joan Fitzgerald—associate education professor and Law, Policy, and Society program director. She presents here a career-ladder strategy for helping low-wage employees improve their skills and job prospects.

Focusing on a few industries, such as health care and manufacturing, Moving Up explores the possibilities that emerge when employers, policymakers, educators, and others collaborate to help workers get a fair shot at the American Dream.