If there were an anti-hero of a novel who could possibly be any more anti-Mustachian than the narrator of this one, it's hard to imagine. He's a Wall Street trader making millions of dollars per year and living the high life, and he comes to realize he's in danger of blowing it all (in a variety of senses of the word). What makes the novel interesting is less his tales of extravagance and deliberate waste, and more the struggle of conscience he begins to engage in during the course of the story. He finds it hard to give this life up even as he recognizes that it is destroying his marriage and everything else he really cares about. The question is whether he can manage to find meaning/purpose in his life and extricate himself before it's too late.