I tried, oh Lord did I try. I got to page 111, but then the self-absobtion and passivity of the narrator became too much for me. At times the narrative drew me in, when Neill was talking about the past: his relationship with his father, his honeymoon, but Neill in the present destroyed it. 

Sometimes I think it’s me. This tends to happen when I read books that I’m told are deep and intimate portraits of humanity. I just want to smack the main character over the head. And, wow, did I want to smack Neill. His inability to see beyond his own nose, his decision to follow someone’s advise and lie to hook up with a chick at a hostel, his stunningly ability not to see what his ex had needed. I’m sure over the course of the novel he learns a lesson about these things, but I just don’t care enough to follow him through that journey.