The plot follows a man gradually losing his mind, culminating in a violent (though not deadly) rampage in his home town. But it's the little sidetracks Vonnegut wanders down which give the book its strength. The puerile little details about genitalia, the musings about depression and mental health, the appreciation and hatred of abstract art, the cruel fortunes of the marvelous Kilgore Trout.

A quick glance at wikipedia reveals mixed opinions about this book. Well, count me as one of its champions, at breakfast or any time of day.