Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon. Its what I would call "burnout noir." Long-winded, but funny as fuck.
Super funny. Compared to a lot of his other stuff though, it's not too long-winded. It moved at a healthy and even pace in my opinion.
Summer by Knausgaard for me, the last of his seasons books and man did he mess up a compelling formula in the second half of the four.
Spring was a compelling confessional to his daughter of his wife's breakdown during/after her birth so it deviated from his "one short piece on an everyday object a day" concept, which I liked because it felt very different from his
My Struggle writing, but it eventually wore out its welcome.
Summer brings back the daily essays but breaks up the two months with entries from his personal diary and they really fuck up the flow of the overall book and drag it down. The diary selections are longer than the rest of the book and each of the previous three volumes (separately) and are the worst of Knausgaard's tendencies: rambling, unrefined, somewhat shallow. There are decent enough moments in them but they really detract from the rest of the work. If anyone does read this, I highly recommend skipping them.