Basically this is not a total waste of time but I don't recommend it.

In this current moment of cynicism, facetiousness, and sarcasm, it's hard for me to evaluate the sincerity of a 1960's fictional personal history. At least some of my values seem to be different from the author's, nor are my assumptions and cultural competency those of the 1960s. Consequently I was occasionally unsure of context: I could tell when implicit commentary was happening, I just didn't know how to interpret it.

By the plain storytelling, and what commentary I grasped, I was more often appalled or horrified than amused. Stereotypes (ethnic and personal-identity) abound and few are flattering. Still, it is this aspect that provided much of what was worthwhile in the book, namely a sense of contemporary social attitudes towards various Others. (Plus some of the attitudes were positive; the chapters set in Moscow and Sweden held mild revelations for me.) So, its main interest to me was as an ethnographic document. But unless that's what you want (or unless you're a chauvinist pig), it hasn't much to offer. ( )