This is a borderline case. This book has its passages, but the story is almost nonexistent and the initial chapters (written as a short story before becoming this book) do not represent the character of Oliver as he is in the rest of the novel. A sometimes sensitive portrayal of teenage depression and breakdown is frequently undermined by pointless sociopathy and general unpleasantness, but to be fair there are a few laughs to be had as well.

With some consistency and focus, this could have been a better novel; I'm hoping it's going to be a better film. It has to be.

Also the pull-quotes in the cover talk shit about Adrian Mole, and I'm not going to stand for that. God, I need Sookie.