Paul Giamatti channels his inner geek in depicting a futuristic Los Angeles gone horribly wrong.
This repackaging of Philip K. Dick's classic novel, released in tandem with Richard Linklater's underrated film adaptation, might appear at first to be a nightmarish capitulation to hipsters, considering the almost resentful alt-rock guitar that opens each CD. But with Paul Giamatti at the helm, Dick's paranoid tale of split identity, scramble suits and chemical and emotional imbalance sparkles with the emotional zest of a true appreciator. Giamatti's inner geek shimmers beneath the gritty patina of a futuristic Los Angeles gone horribly wrong, a dystopia surrendering itself to experiential and environmental misperception as well as to the diabolical drug Substance D.

The late Philip K. Dick's pulpy syntax, often banged out in a mad amphetamine rush, was written more for the feral eye than the fine ear, and it is to Giamatti's great credit that he effortlessly careens through Dick's clunky clauses, bringing a meaty foundation of exuberant narration and sonorous characters for a fun and humorous take on Dick's novel. Dick's "zt zt zt on their car radio" and his salty imagery are rendered with taut attention to rhythm. If the results aren't always as seedy or as seditious as Dick likely intended, Giamatti's delivery still lilts, tilts and sometimes jilts around smooth and jagged corners, offering a faithful rendition for Dick die-hards and an entry point for those new to the canon.