It's amazing how Kurt Vonnegut has been able to hornswaggle readers for so long; and that he's finally being accepted as genuine literature by the elitist critics and professors demonstrates his thimblerigging proficiency. That said, I will admit "Breakfast" has the most accessable story of any of his books I've perused. The structure is at least interesting, the way he's managed to chop the narrative into sound bites and nevertheless make it coherent. What first puts one off this novel, though, are his windy pontifications. It seems almost a contradiction in terms to find a nihilist egoist, but somehow Vonnegut manages. I grew tired of the author long before the story itself grew tedious. If you enjoy Vonnegut's smug tendentiousness, I would recommend this book as one of his better efforts. If you're looking for mature fiction, pass by.