I had the strange feeling that I had already read these stories before. The style and themes are repeated ostenato and crescendo. Theme parks, indignation, unreality, consumerism, corporatism, drugs, the decline of the family and so on. 
 This is not entirely a bad thing, as Saunders is by no means a bad writer, and these stories are still well-crafted. He still has a talent for the grotesquely real, from the Semplica girls story to the chilling human drug experiments (see the little girls swaying in the breeze, strung up as lawn ornaments). It's just the mild disappointment of seeing them again. Ah well.