One sentence summary: this is a book of tropes (coming-of-age, (pre-)midlife crisis, and buried-secrets-come-back-to-haunt) that muddles around in an amusing but digressive fashion for hundreds of pages before attempting to say something about finding meaning in a meaningless Universe. Namely, that one should try to do so. Crap, that was two.

Honestly, several days after finishing it I just don’t feel motivated to make my normal analytical effort. I enjoyed several turns of phrase (“twiddling his thumbs computatively”). I laughed almost every time Mario laid down some of his profane, contractionless, genital-laden braggadocio. I wondered at Carl’s bestial, moronic internal monologue. But I kind of doubt I’ll remember this book in a year. Definitely fun to read, though possibly not if you can find nothing humorous in what passes for wit among teenage boys. There are adults too, but they are largely annoying and/or less humorous, with the exception of the Automator.

Many fine words, though.

tintinnabulate (v): to ring like a small bell (p. 12)
corposant (n): aka St. Elmo's Fire, which is a naturally occurring atmospheric phenomenon in which objects can appear to glow in an electrical field, and not, sadly, a giant fire-breathing Sesame Street agent of God's will. (p. 116)
rubicund (adj): red (p. 163)
distrait (adj): distracted, abesnt-minded (p. 267)
epicene (adj): both male and female, though apparently also used to connote femininity unbecoming a man. (p. 277)
lambent (adj): light, delicate. (p. 375)
omphalos (n): navel, or central point. (p. 384)
tenebrous (adj): dark. Tenebrionid beetles make more sense now. (p. 435)

"The point is that life isn't a quest, Howard. And it's not the kind of fire you can take your hand out of. You need to accept that, and start dealing with it." (p. 495) One of the book's main points, laid out pretty plainly. Particularly relevant for me in my state of post-Avatar withdrawal (I made the mistake of buying the DVD).