If anyone is reading this, feel free to read someone else's blurb to find out what this story is about, because I don't know. Well, I read one-eighth (yes, it's 800 pages) and there was no reward in sight, and in fact I found myself staying up later at night simply to avoid having to read this book. You also risk alienating them before the payoff arrives. Look, you can make all kinds of statements about the rigidity of the novel's form, but random switching between speakers/POV without even the slightest convention to clue your reader in is risky, so there needs to be some payoff. Perhaps there will be at some point, and perhaps I'll return to this in the future, but for now, I'm done. One hundred pages into this and I've realized, there isn't. I'm always in the mood for conspiracy theory, and odd-ball sensibilities are fine as long as there's a point. Robert Anton Wilson's (and that other guy's) trilogy is one of those books that hovered around the edges of my awareness as a cult novel(s), and that alone was enough to prompt me to read it. This just isn't going to happen, not now.
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