I will be honest, I'm a huge fan of Chris Colfer, but I read this book trying to remain very unbiased.
For SBL the book (which by the way, the movie seems a lot better than the book and I'm extremely extremely excited for it).
This book is too obvious. It spells out exactly what the character is feeling and thinking, which makes sense for a journal-entry novel... but Carson, the main narrator also has such a remarkable clarity of how he's transformed that it's entirely too unrealistic. It rings false.
(For as much as I harp on Perks of a Wallflower, this is one thing that Stephen Chbosky got right and did it well in his journal-entry style structure.)
In SBL, I get it, people can be self-aware, yes, fair enough, but it seems as if Chris Colfer writes revelations so blatantly obvious that the reader doesn't get to come to their own conclusion.
"Am I starting to care? Am I starting to see these shitwads as actual human beings?"
Yes, you are. But there's no need to say it outright. Let us and yourself come to that a little bit more organically, kid.
However, I will admit that the lesson of not to assume that other people's lives can't be shitty or shitter than yours is an important one, and one that I'm still learning.
Now, I will say this. I do enjoy the fact that the main character Carson is an asshole. He's not a bad person, but he is a jerk. But there are reasons and circumstances that make his doucheyness... understandable. Carson has the very superior view of himself compared to every other person... but I mean, that's honest. It's mean and selfish, but it's also something I've felt and it's something that's never acknowledged in mainstream media. This is, and it wasn't made to feel as if you were a horrible person.
I can see how Carson is grating, but I've also been an asshole, so I... get it. Let's face it, ambitious people are usually assholes. Hell, most people are usually assholes.
The narrative is also quite interesting. The prose could use a bit more tightening/editing or sophistication, but it is witty, intensely cynical and deeply deeply sad. It's very much a dark comedy where the idea and characters and plot are there, but the writing isn't.
And that makes me sad. When the characters and premise and plot is awe-inspiring, but the writing is weak. Execution is just as important, and it makes me sad for what could've been. Suzanne Collins, I'm still bitter.
But fuck, Carson is bitter. Bitter, bitter. And fucked up, dude. There is so much anger, holy.
The Clover Magazine's writing submissions were a little too... metaphorically obvious considering their writers... but fine, fuck, they were good. They brought the point home that other people feel shitty sometimes too and that no one's life is perfect. Again, a little too on the nose, but I highly enjoyed it.
Another unexpected thing, Colfer writes dementia and depression extremely well, subtle in a way much of the rest of the book isn't. His handle on adult relationships and characters and their issues is one that I wish could be explored more in-depth, because if there was ever a moment where Colfer's writing ability shone through... it was during those.