Interesting read, mostly for the untethered nature of the narrative, I think. I'm not sure that that's a very good descriptor, but "untethered" is the word that came to mind while reading it; I sort of felt as if I were floating through the story, never quite latching onto anything other than imagery.

That imagery is the real strength of this book. It's vivid and disparate, a kaleidoscope of sensory detail. It quite overshadows the main character. The story is told in the first person, and Arminto, our protagonist, is one of the most colourless narrators I've read in quite some time. Perhaps that may have contributed to the sense of floating, as he seemed to have absolutely no personality. Sort of a passive, drifting vacuum, constantly waiting for the next thing to happen to him. This lack of characterisation doesn't seem to apply to the supporting cast, all of whom are clearly, if briefly, delineated, so I can only assume it's the choice of the author to make his main character such a non-entity. I'm not altogether sure that I see why, all I know is that I felt no connection whatsoever to Arminto. The beauty of the imagery is a compensation for that, but not a complete one.