I should have listened to many low-rated reviews of this book. It's obvious the author wanted to come off profound, incorporating inane life events, horrifically realistic dialogue (with LOTS of repeated words, hesitations, and misused vocabulary), and pointless images into what appears to be a proper mystery. Put simply, the book is pretentious and bloated for the sake of "art". Chalk this up to another disappointing ergodic novel. (Will I ever find one as interesting and compelling as House of Leaves? Who the hell knows.)