This was the most insane book I have ever read. There was a moment when I paused and said aloud, "I love this book!" But at other times I was bored, incredulous, and/or confused.

Thoroughly readable and often hysterical, the book skates through nearly every problem a person could have over the course of a year-- and many that one really couldn't have.

Other reviews mention the utter incredulity that things like Israeli operatives breed, but my confusion and skepticism came from the smaller things: when Harry's bank cards are cancelled, there are no repercussions; he's back to spending money wildly only a few pages later. His empty car crashes while he's having a stroke, and no mention of repairs, insurance, or cost is made. Again, within a few pages he's driving around once more.

The book seemed to gloss over big events like "here's a funny/strange thing that happens now!" while leaving interesting characters in the dust-- I wanted more George!

My biggest issue, however, was the fact that the apparent unreliability of the narrator went completely unaddressed. After his schizophrenic episode in the bathroom, a number of conversations in which other characters blatantly refute Harry's telling of the story, and several flat out insane comments about his life, I was expecting an ending in which Harry wakes up in a mental hospital, with George as his alter ego and all the other characters fictions of his wild, drugged imagination.

This is how insane this book is. Nevertheless, it held my attention. But I would have to say I was ultimately unfulfilled.