Writers get bored with themselves. Nor is this a bad thing. William Giraldi, in Busy Monsters is so bored with himself that he makes every sentence a waker-upper, a roller coaster, a slap-you-about-a bit, e.g.:

Gilliam and I were about to be married, and her ex-beau of four years, Marvin Gluck–Virginia state trooper, boots and all– was heaving his psychosis our way,sending bow tie packages,soilsome letters,and text messages to the bestial effect of, “If you marry that baboon, I’ll end all our

See the fine review by D.G. Myers in Books and Culture.