No matter how well it's been done, I'm biased against books in which a sport is a big factor, and [a:Gish Jen|32872|Gish Jen|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1357165457p2/32872.jpg]'s [b:The Resisters|45835970|The Resisters|Gish Jen|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1569173277l/45835970.SX50.jpg|70642581] is largely about baseball. Despite that, it's a penetrating look at an American future which, as is all good speculative fiction, really about how things are today.
 Too much of it read, to me, like a dystopian young adult novel, despite the occasional rough language. Jen's skill, however, made it readable for me and depicted future scenarios in authentic ways. I've been out of college for forty years, but this description brought it back:

Gwen's dorm was extraordinary except for how ordinary it was in the Netted world that a neo-brick building of no particular distinction should command its own large oval of high, dry land. It lay in the even midday sun, surrounded not by floodwater but by bustle. Every SkyCar had a lid of some sort agape—a trunk lid, a back gate. And around the SkyCars swarmed families, anxious and excited, their arms piled full as their SkyCars flew themselves off to park. Yet for all their life, the SkyCars and families seemed somehow incidental to the dorm—ephemera. Perhaps the dorm would one day be replaced by a science center or be taken over by Surplus. On this early fall day, with the leaves gold green and the grass grown out to its full inch and a half, though, such developments were unimaginable. Perhaps simply because it was not plastic, the dormitory seemed for all the world, like the university itself, an EternaFact.