This is one of the strangest books I have ever read. A friend picked it up because he read the blurb on the back cover and thought it sounded good, then simply lost interest in it until I picked it up from his bookshelf.
I borrowed it and spent the first five chapters or so wondering what kind of Expressionist hell I had inflicted on myself. I could not understand just what was going on; how each chapter was tying into the next.
Still, I persevered, and it got to the point where I could not put the book down. It was like... I really can't describe the plot, or even the writing style; for some reason, as I read it, Salvador Dali paintings kept running through my head.
For example, one chapter is completely written in a made-up language. Another chapter details the antihero, Spider, pasting himself to the ground and refusing to move for traffic.
The prose was actually rather poetic, and it does not surprise me that the author is an erstwhile poet. As I mentioned earlier, I cannot really explain the plot or the style of the book adequately, but it was beautifully written and extremely evocative... I cannot forget some of the strange scenes painted in the book.
If you are open to new forms of writing, different styles... give the book a go. I think it is highly worth it.