The Accidental--halfway through

One opening note: a little part of me pushed up his horn-rimmed glasses and laughed in a non-belly way when I opened this page and saw the heading Really Long Secrets and zero contents.

So when I started The Accidental, I was coming off of a long series of really long, complex, would-call-them-pretentious-if-they-weren't-mostly-over-my-head books, so the small pages, large type, and overly clever opening made me feel good, like here's something I can wrap my head completely around without having to smoosh it thin. As I've progressed, though, I've noticed three interesting things:
1. It communicates very well. Its symbols are very clear and consistent, its characters are sympathetic but never side-able with (its chapters rotate between the four very different perspectives of a strained family), and its ironies are subtle without demanding much work. It strikes what I think is near the best balance between complexity and readability I've ever seen; it doesn't try to be genius, it's just strong and smart and truly wants to talk with you rather than merely entertain or impress you.
2. It's a whole lot like the stuff I'd want to write in terms of style and content. This grew increasingly apparent as I went along. The parallel, mostly disconnected stories, the multi-topic paragraphs, the near-pathologically internal lives of the characters, the critical look at "growth" and "disillusionment", the total lack of a moral authority between the characters' perspectives, the irresolvable background conflicts--war, environmental issues, etc.--that everyone tries to ignore: this is basically a laundry list of the best ideas I've ever had for fiction. Complete, incidentally, with overly cute stylistic devices (although the rhyming verse with every line ending with "want" was pretty hilarious), fairly rough characters, and a heavy dependence on irony that can get a little grating. So this might be the real reason for 1.; I'm reading something pretty similar to what I'd look like if I were a real writer.
3. It's really, really gutsy. She manages to make a 12-year-old's mental wanderings interesting. She structures the book very tightly while maintaining a good flow w/ respect to entertainment. She writes teenage self-pity in a way just non-grating enough to make you keep reading. She makes ruthless fun of English and writing while not really suggesting that she's any better. She, a lesbian, dives right into the pants of teenage male sexuality and doesn't do a half-bad job of it (though it's obvious, reading those sections, that it was pretty tough--I'm imagining the early drafts featured a lot of awkward conversations with very close friends).

That's where I am right now. I'm not going to try to do much interpretation yet, since so far my reading of it so closely matches my own personal thoughts about life, and I'm not very articulate with those. Plus I'm really curious how it'll end. Anything to say, Rach?