I gave it about 130 pages, which is nearly half the book, and I couldn't take any more. The narrator's problem appears to be sex addiction rather than bipolar disorder. When I got to the part where he's in Santiago, talking about how armpit hair is sexy because it's like a woman giving him a view of her little pocket-sized vagina, I'd had enough. Not that I was offended by all the sex talk, I was just bored with it.I'm also not a fan of the pogo-stick school of writing. BOING BOING BOING. Now we're in Beverly Hills. Now we're in the Negev. Now we're in New York. Now it's 1961. Oh wait, now it's 1989....BOING BOING BOING.Settle down a bit and just tell us a story, please. I understand the purpose for writing the novel this way. The narrator is relating flashbacks that come to him during 30-second electro-shock treatments. But it still doesn't work for me. Maybe I need electro-shock therapy in order to appreciate it.Juliann Garey writes well, which is why I'm giving this two stars rather than one. And I have to give her special credit, because she writes so convincingly as a male that I kept forgetting the author was a woman.