It must take special effort to make a book about murder and debauchery seem boring. I never imagined I could have my eyes glaze over while reading about cannibalism and rape. I wonder if something's more wrong with me or the author. 
 SPECIAL EDIT: I saw the movie at the behest of a friend recently. I was dazzled by the acting. It's remarkable that such a better movie was produced from this wholly unreadable book. Maybe it's because we only receive a digested glimpse of the narrator's neurotic catalog of murder and kitsch. I don't know. 
 The truly distressing thing, though, was checking a few clips on Youtube. Too many of the comments were "I want to live like that!" "Admit it - we've all dreamed of doing that." And so forth. The usual bilge. 
 DFW, in Paul Bryant's review, said that the novel is a digest of late 80s social problems and nothing more. Perhaps it is a digest of all modern issues, and 'nothing more'. If I have the stomach, I'll turn to it again.