"I'm telling you between you and me: the human being, broadly speaking, is the closest thing there is to a rat."

The second part of the novel chronicles a philosophy professor who is self-aware that he is going mad. He hangs a geometry book by a clothesline in his backyard and believes that when the wind blows, it can "learn" about the shapes humans have created.

I'm starting to get the feeling this is the type of book you read in your twenties, then thirty years down the road you are mumbling math equations and drawing mazes on the wall of your prison cell.