While witty enough as a throwaway comment, I disagree and recommend IJ to anyone who likes nested (recursive!), variable scope humor. The experimental portions of it do not thrill me except insofar as they are amusing.
The novel is a sort of intersection of so funny it hurts and it hurts so much it's funny.
The eponym of the title is apt for one of the viewpoint characters, who is unable to communicate by the end of the story (beginning of the book), and much more so his father, who is a very type of Yorick: mute by being dead, of excellent fancy, etc.
It's a 1000-page kind of experimental fiction about entertainment/addiction.
It took me a while to read, but is something I'd recommend, anyway.