The ""weekend man"" is one who is fairly certain tomorrow will be blah and merely hopes for some ""painless diversions"" -- which is the total pursuit of a young man in this soft and genial, occasionally touching, Canadian first novel. The life of Wes Wakefield is ordinary, extravagantly so -- in fact it's a matter mainly of the boys at the office (an educational publisher, dull from door to door); an impressive spread of the Shopping Plaza which Wes' apartment overlooks and its inevitable eatery, The Skipper's Table (Mr. Wright leaves no scone unturned); the Tudor house-and-briefcase visions of his estranged wife Molly and another girl in his past; deadly parties. But there are also such diversions: a ""noodling"" with his retarded son, the prospect of serendipitous sex, and childhood memories. (His father, another weekend, gave up pursuing sunsets and ""settled down."") Wes drifts back to Molly and the ""sensible"" life, still keenly aware of the ""howling tiff the soul."" Weekday blues with Friday P.M. wit and spirit.