I liked it fine. It was a little too in love with its linguistic acrobatics and not in love enough with fact-checking its favorite references (David Bowie did not have heterochromia; tango is not a dance where you can futz your way through who leads and who follows; etc etc), but I thought the last third was a lot of weird fun.
My main complaint was that it felt like it kept gesturing in the direction of actually being About Something, and then instead doubled back and doubled down on the aesthetics flourishes. The last third made me not regret picking it up, but it wasn't quite good enough to make me pick up anything else by Awad.
I'm looking forward to a possible movie, though! Books that focus on style over substance usually adapt even better to film, because the individual performers and artists involved will have the space to imbue... well, just more.