Set in a Los Angeles subdivision beset with wildfires and foreclosures, Joe McGinniss Jr.’s raucously inventive second novel, “Carousel Court,” journeys through an American dream veering into nightmare. Determined to make a fresh start, Nick finds a job in California, and they move to a Carousel Court subdivision rental, only to find that Nick’s promised job doesn’t exist anymore, gutted by the economy. Phoebe works for a pharmaceutical company, selling antianxiety drugs, all the while ramping up her drug habit, the endless miles on her car and her unhappiness. Debt sends their troubled marriage to the brink, and the only way out that Nick can see is to cheaply rent out vacant houses to all the desperate people who can’t afford anything better. With a burner phone that can’t be traced to him, and a contract unofficially scribbled on scraps of paper worth about as much as a napkin, Nick rents houses he doesn’t own, on a month-to-month basis, knowing full well that the only money he might collect from his tenants is the first deposit. McGinniss’ gorgeous prose captures the agony of the “moaning winds and anguished cries coming from the bone-dry hills” as well as the rare beauty of a day when “everything pops: the colors, the people, the thick, warm aroma of coffee, the bright sunlight.” [...] he’s also a master at character, juxtaposing shallow Millennials with Phoebe and Nick, pointing out how the younger generation has “a margin for error” that Phoebe and Nick simply can’t afford at their stage in life.