The main character, Jack "Binx" Bolling is the type of guy I just want to smack: meandering, undecisive, etc. He's searching for God--in his own way--and seems to be slightly crazy, in my opinion. But hey, that's okay, because he has his (step-)cousin Kate who understands him, because she's crazy as well.
Seriously though, the two of them wonder about the meaning of life and both fall into despair so easily. I'm not an existential sort of person at all--my faith in God is strong. Binx and I think so differently that I couldn't understand him.
On a side note, the book was published in the early 1960s, and other than Mary Stewart or Elizabeth Peters, I have hardly read anything from that era. I found myself being fascinated by silly little things--for example, Binx gets in a car wreck and the other driver, who caused it, just drives away. I started thinking about insurance and wondering if they had car insurance back then and how Binx didn't seem mad that it was a hit-and-run and how he'll have to pay for his little car to be fixed...and yeah, see how unexistential I am?
To be far, this is considered a great American novel but that doesn't mean I enjoyed reading it!