If there is a genre called “office lit” — and if there’s not, there should be — Jessica Westhead’s debut novel Pulpy and Midge would fall squarely in that camp. The novel reads like an extended prose version of a Dilbert cartoon or a series of episodes of The Office. It centres on the working life travails of the thoroughly likable yet hapless Brian Lembeck, better known as Pulpy (so named because of his affection for orange juice) and his quirky but loving wife, Midge.

Pulpy and Midge are the kind of endearing couple who take Couples Ice Dance Expression lessons on the weekends, who call each other at lunch and elevate the most trivial moments of their day to major news event status (“On my route today,” says Midge to Pulpy, ”I saw a woman with fruit on her shoes!”) and who treat their two goldfish — Mr. and Mrs. Fins — like beloved family pets. Their lives are turned upside down when Pulpy’s boss retires and is replaced by the tyrannical, über-macho, volcano-hot-chicken-wing-eating Dan and his lascivious wife Beatrice.

Dan, who could go head-to-head with Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada as the worst boss ever, alienates the whole office and then enlists Pulpy as his sidekick to help restore morale. Pulpy, reluctant but accommodating, soon finds himself bullied and manipulated and ensconced in activities in which he’d rather not partake, such as organizing doomed office potlucks and a winter Frisbee league.

While promising, the novel unfortunately falls into a predictable pattern. Day-after-day is told pretty much the same: Pulpy is bullied and manipulated at work all day by Dan and Beatrice, then he and Midge are coerced into spending their evenings with these tormenters as well. Dan and Beatrice, who are in an “open relationship” and who have not-so-innocent designs on the office lackey and his spouse, inevitably orchestrate marathon binge drinking sessions in an effort to get Pulpy and Midge to “loosen up.” Marital discord ensues. The story is predictable — eventually Pulpy will have to stop being such a pushover in order to save both his marriage and his own dignity.

Predictability aside, there are some moments of real charm in this novel. In particular, Westhead has a talent for dialogue (much of the novel centres on conversations between characters) and she uses it to cunningly draw convincing character sketches and illustrate the banalities and small dramas that characterize office life. Ultimately, there are some truths here about workplace politics, the damage that toxic personalities can cause and the importance of being true to yourself.