The next time you’re trapped in the jungles of Laos, a canteen and machete might be your best bet for coming out alive. That, and apparently a book.

“This Book Will Save Your Life” is the latest from A. M. Homes. Deceptively, it is not a self-help book – at least not based on what I’ve seen of the genre – but a novel.

Richard Novak is the epitome of American success. He’s retired, in his 50s and works the stock market more out of habit and for something to do than out of financial need.

With a house in Los Angeles, a movie star as his neighbor, a full-time housekeeper, a personal nutritionist, a trainer, a masseur and lots of money – lots and lots of money – he becomes a recluse. Life is watching ticker tape, eating vegan brownies and running on his treadmill every morning.

Of course, life isn’t all vegan brownies.

Two events collide, forcing Rick to rethink his life, his philosophy and his beliefs. A sinkhole appears in his yard, slowing devouring his house and the cliff it’s built on, and, inexplicably, Rick is overcome with pain spreading throughout his body, with no apparent catalyst.

After calls to 911 and a bizarre night in the emergency room, Rick sets out to find himself.

Along the way he finds Anhil, the owner of a doughnut shop, Cynthia, a crying housewife, Nic, a pseudo-hippie-type-something – more commonly known as a writer – and he attempts to square things with his 17-year-old son Ben, who loathes him with the fires of ten thousand suns.

“This Book Will Save Your Life” tears down our society’s current idyllic lifestyle, exposing it as hollow and imperfect, while glorifying the connections we make with others and the discovery of oneself.

It has the upbeat spirit of hope in “Fish!” and its fellow self-help types, but has cleverly disguised itself by using constant deadpan wit to throw off skeptical readers.

Its characters are real and fully developed. They are people anyone could run into, with lives, histories, opinions and flaws.

Unbelievable plot happenings are made believable simply by saying, “This is L.A.” Normally I’d scoff at the method, but Homes makes it work. I believed it.

There were two main issues I had that resurfaced throughout the book. The first was that Homes used present tense. I assume the use is to emphasize the actions taking place, because it does. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt by not thinking she did it just because she likes present tense.

However, it’s a distracting and unnatural tense for readers. Whether the end justifies such means is debatable, but all writers innately know, down in the marrow of their bones, that any writing method that makes a book more difficult to read should be avoided like a rabid dog.

The second problem is one that seems insignificant, but can be a source of severe frustration for readers.

Two characters should never have names that start with the same letter or sound, especially if they’re of the same sex. It is too easy for readers to confuse one for the other. And yet, Homes manages to combine all three for two of her characters.

Cynthia and Cecelia are the crying housewife and the housekeeper, respectively. They have different roles and personalities, but if one is referred to and neither is present, the reader hesitates, having to stop and remember which is Cynthia and which is Cecelia. This is bad.

What I enjoyed most, other than such utterly believable characters, is that the story doesn’t end with life packaged up in a silk ribbon-wrapped box.

It is more about understanding that adaptation and doing the right thing for yourself and others are what are most important. And not staring at Bob Dylan through binoculars if he’s 15 feet away. Especially if you’re the only two around.

That being said, I suppose the important question is: Did it save my life?

No.

But it will save someone’s.