Okay, this book wasn't really recommended per se, at least not for its contents. It was referenced in a Daily Stoic newsletter for its providence in ending up as the 1962 National Book Award winner, even though the publisher's president didn't like the book, and didn't promote the book, etc. The book was handed, very late in the process, to one of the award judges, who read it and nudged enough of the other readers to read it, and oh, hey, look it won. None of the process of winning the award, after writing and submitting whatever revisions Percy needed to do, was in Percy's control. Hence, the story's story in the newsletter.
I'm rather with the publishing house's president on this one, I'm very meh about it, winner or not. There are some books of earlier eras that stand up to the test of time. This is not one of them. Lots of negro this, and sexism that, and oh, I don't know what the hell I'm doing so I'll drift through life and use movie locations to define my existence.
Ahead of myself there.
Here we have Binx Bolling, a stockbroker in the early sixties. He hires women to work for him so that he can date them. He comes from a family well off enough that he doesn't seem to need to work. He has a lost cousin whose mental health is questionable after her fiancé died in a car crash days before their wedding. His aunt, the cousin's step mother, looks out for the cousin, thinks our protagonist is a charming young man (at 30) who just hasn't found his way in life.
Let me help: "Dear Auntie, Found my way, I'm going to be a slacker the rest of my life. Please send money. Love, Binx."
The main character lets others define his world (you aren't anywhere until a movie has been filmed in your neighborhood), and goes through life detached while observing, not a participant in life.
Meh, not a fan. Unless you need to read the book for class, don't.