It's enjoyable to listen to (audiobook-wise) after a tall glass of scotch. Not unlike, say, Gertrude Stein. The euphony and cadence of sentences, the unlikely word pairings, the stark impenetrability of it—it gives it the pleasure you'd get from an abstract painting. Certainly not everybody's glass of prune juice, but in those strange moods you can get yourself into, it can sometimes hit the spot.

Definitely not required reading for your moral (or even literary) education, though. It's a madman's backflip of a novel; something you'd write for a lark once you knew you had nothing to prove.