This books seems to be attracting a pared down Mona Lisa kind of response, in that the work itself isn't necessarily remarkable, yet how it came to be - the conception, method of production and distribution, and perhaps the editorial process - is unusual enough to spark discussion.
Externally, The Abstract has enough of the interesting going for it. Given away for free, I was hard-pressed to cough up an excuse for bypassing this enigmatic book. Presented with the choice of two different covers, I was also deflected, like a hologram, from "judging the book by its cover." A lightweight paperback of medium length, The Abstract certainly isn't a burden to carry around.
Internally, the content is a complete waste of time, at least at a superficial level. Assuming underdog status, I was rooting for this indie offering. I wanted it to be great, and kept reading, hoping for some brilliant revelation or at least a nugget of insight. Instead, although the whims of the main character occasionally caused amusement or curiosity, I was more often bored, disappointed, even repulsed by his aimless, mildly subversive antics.
While I could be reading into it too much, it seems that The Abstract is an experimentation with the novel as an expressive device, and perhaps intends to be a commentary on mainstream reader expectations. In that event, I'd say it has succeeded in illuminating and challenging my current notions. Yet admittedly, I've yet to receive the full delivery of the message, if there is one.