As I've said here, if I don't like a critically acclaimed classic, then that's probably my own shortcoming. Far as I can discern, there's no traditional narrative here. It's a rambling stream of consciousness autobiographical story of a writer's experiences cavorting with his friends in France. It's extremely profane in a way that I'm sure was groundbreaking in the 1930's, but when read in 2021 it comes off to me as juvenile in It's vulgarity.