I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak

There is nothing special about Ed Kennedy. He describes his unambitious self this way: "Taxi driver. Local loser. Cornerstone of mediocrity. Sexual midget. Pathetic card player." His accidentally heroic intervention in a botched bank robbery changes it all and he has to add to his self-description: "weird-shit magnet." Mysteriously, after the bank incident, a playing card arrives in the mail with three addresses on it. He feels compelled to pursue this unknown task, follows his hunches, and begins to carry "messages" to variously afflicted people, following the clues on the playing cards. And the story takes off from there. Redemption always comes in unpredictable ways, often refreshingly so. This book is a lot of fun. In addition to Australian slang, it's full of flamboyant metaphors: "my words land on my feet and slip off, to the grass...the days and nights come apart. I feel them corroding at the seams," and brief telepathic conversations with his dog named the Doorman. A bit of mysticism, an edgy Fight Club quality, and full of Stargirl heart. A dazzling read.