A truly baffling book that goes absolutely nowhere. Cows is an infamously "disturbing" book, we all know that and it is the only aspect that really matters, its the reason I read it, and the reason many others did, its not about the fact that this has a gripping story, its that its disgusting and vile and painfully descriptive, and I can't deny neither of those things, the most shocking of all is that its actually written, I expected garbage prose coming from an edgy college student but I got oddly poetic garbage coming from an edgy economics graduate. My biggest issue isn't in the shock content, its the mentioned lack of progression, things happen in a sort of linear order for a while, you can predict where the story will go and then *poof*, the story is over, with big capital letters "THE END". Rarely do I get so disappointed from these two words, sometimes they are even rewarding, satisfactory -almost always. Here though, they felt mean and uninspired, followed by an excerpt from Stokoe's novel "High Life" which I had no interest in reading after being offended like that. At this point I feel like I'm just ranting so I'll end my review as such: Was this book disturbing? - Maybe, a more appropriate word would be disgusting or severely nasty. Did this book "too much"? - Maybe, too much poop; cum; piss; blood; fart going on but its understandable, reasonably "too much". Was this book good? - Not really, I mean, maybe? There's probably something here related to the artist, probably, but probably not. 
Feel free to skip this one, besides some utterly vile descriptions of unholy acts it does little to nothing. 3/10.