It had the most permeable membrane of any book I've read in a while, by which I mean that the boundaries between my life and the novel kept blurring. Maybe because it was a particularly sleep-deprived weird week, and there are certainly the aforementioned dreaded dream sequences (which I liked) bordering on magic realism (which I thought worked), but I keep remembering bits and pieces of the narrative the way you'd remember something you dreamed a few nights ago. And I kept nodding out while reading the book -- on the train, in bed -- which made it all the more hallucinatory. Anyway, I'm probably not making a very good case for the book and it's definitely not for everyone, but I liked it.