Enter in a long list of posthumously published manuscripts from young authors who committed suicide and this one will probably reach the top of the list along with David Foster Wallace, with the difference being that DFW had garnered fame before his untimely demise. 
 That being said, this one is full of 50's and 60's humor, more a lambast of society as a whole, of racial perspectives in specific, and a whole lot more of business and miscellany becoming a modern retelling of a certain classic of Cervantes, although, in actuality, I saw a lot more in common with Voltaire with its hyperbole. 
 I found it mostly enjoyable in a kind of throwback kind of way, chuckling with all the communist jokes, the temporary insanity pleas, and perhaps a bit less with all the reverse black stereotype humor... in that our funny fat man is amazed and disappointed that any self-respecting black man would ever want to join the mindless hoard of the middle class... 
 It's funny on the surface, a lambast of the middle class, but this kind of humor does little for me when it comes to all the black vagrancy charges, the lower-than minimum wage jobs, and the rest of the caricatures, an obvious period piece despite the pulitzer win of 1980. 
 Still, the snappy dialogue, the over-the-top absurd situations, and even the rather funny portraiture of feminism and protests were pretty damn good. 
 I'll remember it fondly, but I am not quite certain that this will be remembered through the ages like some people seem to think. Sadly.