This book had me from the first page. It is so bizarre. I deeply admire how bizarre it really is. Habash writes a heavily involved, first-person protagonist that somehow doesn't know things that we do. It is deeply psychological and unflinching and gritty. Stephen Florida is the kind of narrator that doesn't let you look away. If I have one criticism, it is that Habash has a loose grip on how to build up to something (and that goes for more than just the ending). For my own satisfaction, I cannot read the ending as purely literal. I have several ideas on how to read it that all make me feel like some wild conspiracy theorist with the red strings and questionable pieces of evidence (see: that one gif from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia). I can dismiss this, though, because I didn't feel that this book needed to lead to anything. I was perfectly happy to meander in Stephen's thoughts and memories for the entirety of this book, and I selfishly wish it were longer.