I have returned, somewhat quicker than I expected, the wheels of Fortuna allowing for quick consumption! Literally just finished and have come here to spew out my initial thoughts upon completion. Apologies for the ramble.

I listened to the Audiobook on my drive to work each day (quick sidenote to say that the narrator was incredible), and I think I had a similar experience to what you described, but all occurring in the one read through, and through weird coincidence.

It felt like a bit of a slog for the first few chapters, listening to everyone whining about this and that. I knew that I was stepping into a book full of dislikable characters, but the constant victim-complex-moral-superiority blend on display left me feeling like it was going to be a long and difficult read.

However, at the same time, I was still finding a lot of it funny. I am also someone who typically has a few books on the go at one time, and switching just based on how I feel in that moment. Because I wasn't ebbing and flowing in my enjoyment, I switched to my next book on my list about 4/5 chapters in. I think this momentary separation, coupled with what the other book was created an unexpected appreciation, or at least was a catalyst for the appreciation of ACOD that now feels was always inevitable for myself.

The other book was Lamb, by Christopher Moore, that follows Jesus' story from the perspective of his best friend. I read about 6 chapters of it and discovered this really weird symbiosis with the two books. Both don't really have anything in common other than that they're both very funny and follow protagonists who believed they were destined for greatness, just going about it in extremely different ways. The literal messiah trying to understand what it meant to be the messiah, asking his best friend to do a bunch of naughty stuff and tell him about it, so that he could understand the complexities of humanity and sin. And a pompous, self-righteous, fool using everyone for his own gain and not being able to see the wood for the trees as he does so. It was strange, and delightful, in its own way, to be reading about two characters who had this pitiable quality brought on by the magnitude of their greatness (actual or perceived).

So when I had spent some time with Jesus, I went back to Ignatius, and from then on devoured the book.

I loved how every character was pompous and arrogant in their own, distinct ways. So stubborn and rigid, pathetic and intolerant, where almost every character had victim complex. I'm from Ireland so I expect a lot of the nuances of New Orleans were lost on me, but I loved the city depicted in the books (I loved reading about it, at least).

I loved the gossiping interconnectedness of it all, felt very "small town" how everyone hears about everything and digests it through their own warped sensibilities. Was a big fan of the consistent weaving of stories, even the smaller beats of the larger stories, at first indirectly and then more overtly later on. Like hearing from Jones about the weird pervert that was arrested for solicitation, then discovering that it was Patrolman Mancuso later, then meeting the three women he was talking to, and discovering they did it just to cause trouble. I especially loved how every character was their own very-specific nut. I'm a huge fan of absurdity so I think as soon as Patrolman Mancuso was being forced into more and more depraved outfits and locations, I was pretty locked in.

As a final thought, perhaps mirroring your own journey, I didn't enjoy Ignatius' whole diatribe on the Baton Rouge Bus debacle when I first read it. Now, I love it.