Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions.
I liked early Vonnegut; Cat's Cradle was good, and I thought Mother Night was terrific. But BoC isn't a novel; it's a meta-novel, writing about writing about writing, with a disjointed plot and a truly stupid ending.
I followed this up with Galapagos to see if it was an aberration, and found that novel to be boring as hell, but it was at least marginally coherent, instead of being a 20th-century Tristram Shandy knockoff.
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