An odd, compelling read. On the face of it, this is the diary of someone who walks around New York a lot, has some moderately interesting friends and very small adventures, but is worth reading because he himself is interesting and erudite and loves making connections between things. In other words, it's a lot like reading Cole's nonfiction, and for a lot of the book I couldn't shake the feeling that the narrator was just the author's mouthpiece. Which is alright--after all it was Cole's nonfiction that got me interested in reading his novel in the first place--but if that were all there was to it I don't think it would have held my attention over 200 pages.

What made this book special for me was its distillation of a very particular feeling: that of having a lovely time going about my business, while always conscious of the horror of the world around me. I do see this in Cole's nonfiction, but there's something about letting it ebb and flow through a much longer, more rambling work than allows it get much more powerful, and in the last few chapters it becomes completely crushing.