This was a big disappointment and I really didn't like it much at all. I'm not saying it was unreadable or completely bad, but I found it tedious and wordy. The descriptions of the surreal scenes often felt sterile and each paragraph of description had at least one or two sentences more than they should have. I'd also like to think that I'd have found the metaphysical musings that defined the world this was set in to be trite and half-baked even if I hadn't studied the transcendental phenomenologists so heavily in college. And, of course, this was written during that period of time that English-language literary criticism loved sex described in the most crude fashion possible, so that's a major focus of the book. Most of the sex is rape with limited consequences for either the perpetrator or the victim. There's a ton of stereotypes of minorities and everyone who isn't of European Christendom is identified through their race or ethnicity, even if they're historical figures. Aboriginal peoples are cannibalistic, of course. But, hey, this was the 70's and we have to accept it because of the times or something, right? Honestly, it wasn't even like it was offensive so much as tedious as hell. The racism and the crude use of sex to describe nearly all relationship dynamics seemed mostly to be laziness to me, honestly. With all that said, there were a few parts where I found myself somewhat drawn into the story and I'm pretty sure that I could have read through all of the stuff I complained about above if it actually said anything meaningful to me, but it really didn't.