Hoooooo boy did I kind of hate this one. In fact, my anger towards the book has only grown in the time since finishing it. It's a pretentious art-school format "ooh, look at the different ways I can write a novel!" attempt to pose meaningfully in the direction of "self-discovery". Listen, if you're a twentysomething and you want self-discovery that isn't your own, go watch "Girls". Go read Fitzgerald. Go read attempt to discover your own answer to the question - but don't bore us with the inanities of your search. Nobody gives a whit.This is just one of those books that irritated me up one side and down the other. I rage on about this, somewhat at length, at RB: http://wp.me/pGVzJ-FbMy apologies for the heatedness... but sometimes, man, it just happens.