As some have already pointed out, this book was hard to read through. It wasn't that it was wan't engaging but more because of a lack of narrative. Each page was an isolated piece of writing with no sense of story to connect them and therefore nothing to carry me on to the next page. On top of this, many of the entries themselves felt incomplete, only fragmented ideas with no clear resolution. Even now, nothing really sticks to my mind about the book because I cannot remember it as a story but as about one hundred scattered thoughts.
I'm not criticizing the book because this may well have been the intention. In fact, I rather like the structure of the book. Even though there is no concrete narrative, there is a sense of continuation. Each page is a day in the author's life and perhaps this is a reflection of how life doesn't have a narrative flow, that it is mostly made of fragmented thoughts and feelings, that it does take pains to go through it just like the pages in the book. To me, it seemed that the book tried to deconstruct the idea of a story and present one that is continuous, trapped in an endless string of days with no specific beginning and ending, as life is.