I've never seen this book discussed here, anybody read it?

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I've never seen this book discussed here, anybody read it?

Seems really up /lit/'s alley. It's about a wealthy young man who thinks of himself as an aristocrat and mostly lounges and drinks and smokes all day. Then, of course, he gets thrust into the modern world and gets into hilarious jams and whatnot. And there's a weird incestuous subplot where he's subconsciously in love with his sister. The jacket describes the protagonist as "part Bertie Wooster, with a dash of Ignatius J. Reilly thrown in." Right up /lit/'s alley, right?

The quality of the writing is what really makes it such a blast, though. Not many books make me cackle while reading. A fairly random passage:

>"he does look like a burglar, Bel, you have to admit. I mean, look at him."
>We turned our attention to the figure on the floor. He wore a denim jacket, a grubby white shirt, and nondescript brown shoes. He was very large and, in some unplaceable way, lump. His head, however, was what really fascinated me. It resembled some novice potter's first attempt at a soup tureen, bulbous and pasty, with one beetling eyebrow, a stubbly jaw, and less than the full complement of teeth; to describe his ears as asymmetrical would be to do asymmetry a disservice.