Will Burns ever get the Milkman narrative off the ground?

Have started reading an ebook v of Anna Burns's Booker-winning (!) novel, Milkman; will return to it in a few days for a second chance, but what I've read so far - 10 percent of the book but who can tell how long it really is? maybe 350 pp.?  - is far from promising. Starts off well - this has been id'd in some reviews as a MeToo novel, and I'm interested in that - as the narrator, a 30something woman living in what clearly is Northern Ireland (seems clearly to be set during a time of the "troubles," but I was/am confused as to what's in the present and what looks back 20 years), is being stalked by the eponymous Milkman, a weird and threatening man in his 40s or so; the narrator - an eccentric herself by any measure, known for walking through her town while lost in her reading (her taste in literature is excellent, but please watch your step!) - is not w/out resources, however, and enlists for her protection a brother-in-law who's a formidable street fighter. All to the good so far, but then the narrative veers off into unfathomably tedious digressions: almost the entire first 10-percent (shall we say 35 pp?) of the novel involve the narrator's visit to the man she refers to only as her maybe-boyfriend; he is a mechanic and has just retrieved a piece from a 1927 Bentley that he has set on his living room carpet and seems to worship (don't ask!); a # of his friends come in bearing lots of alcohol and they engage in a long discussion about the Bentley part: what if he'd retrieved the front-piece that includes a flag image from "over there"? Would that be an act of complicity with the enemy? Would someone be in the right to attack him for owning a car part w/ that image? And on and on. OK, Irish literature is famous for its difficult and eccentric narrations: Joyce, of course, but also Beckett, Flann O'Brien, maybe Donleavy, to name a few, and Milkman earnestly strives to be in this tradition - but Burns has to get this novel off the ground at some point. I really can't imagine reading another 300+ pp (I just looked it up, it's a 368 pager) of tedious conversation among inebriated blokes narrated by someone who can't tell a story straight.