For one of Vonnegut's most beloved novels, I found much of Breakfast of Champions lacking. I realize that the narrator intended the story to unfold like a list of seemingly random, and often inconsequential, events; however, there's tact to such storytelling that I believe Vonnegut ignored. I found myself skipping over the unimportant, and dare I say obnoxious, need to list each woman's measurements and each man's penis size. This niggle is only one of the numerous times I shook my head or caught my mind drifting from the text because it simply wasn't stimulating.

As a Vonnegut fan, I'd love to praise this book. Unfortunately, I was left underwhelmed. If this had been my first Vonnegut work, I may very well have written him off after this read. Nevertheless, I still consider myself a fan, though this is by far my least favorite.