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240 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 8, 2013
Pete Wentz's second novel is a mess. An unadulterated mess. A huge fucking-- Let me explain. The story (if you could call it that) follows our protagonist (if you could call him that) as he tries to figure out his life with his mental illness and girlfriend (if you could call her that). That entire sentence has everything wrong with this book. The story is nonexistent. It's some sort of free-form plot that doesn't follow a storyline, which is ridiculous because it's fiction. This story isn't autobiographical, but it's obvious he takes elements from his life. Certain names are transparently changed, I can recognize specific events, etc. However, I understand why this isn't autobiographical. The incredibly depressing ending(if you could call it that) did not happen to Wentz in real life.
Speaking of Wentz, the unnamed narrator is both infuriating and... No, that's it. The narrator is bipolar. Pete Wentz is bipolar. I will say this, the fact that Pete Wentz actually has a serious mental illness is probably the only interesting thing about this book and him for that matter, so I really wish that that was the subject and not his oh-so-awful romantic life; he bangs about 4-5 women over the course of it, which I believe is supposed to be a year and a half. That's INSANE. Anyway, the main character says he should take his meds, which I agree with. He doesn't. Which I don't agree with. Then, he of course becomes depressed and manic and irrational and damn, is he irritating. It's not even bipolar's fault. He's just an inconsolable and irrevocable mess. He ruins everyone's lives eventually (shut up--you saw that coming) and feels... Something... Maybe that didn't happen in real life, though I bet it did, because young Pete Wentz was a colossal douchebag. When you can feel the douche-stink coming off of someone from a story about them by someone who is barely their friend, they're a douchebag.
But you know, he doesn't fuck up anyone else as well as he does his girlfriend, Her. That's Her name. Her. Someone suggested that Pete Wentz named the girlfriend Her because he wanted to be artsy,but I bet it was because the real girl would've sued. Or it was a mishmash of girls and he couldn't be bothered to make a fake name. The main character falls in love with her and vice versa and they have really great sex and I just realized that this is what Adam Levine sings about. "Oh, we're so wrong for each other, but all we do is sit around and bone each other all day..." This girl for some reason goes completely batshit in the middle of the novel. Like, manic episode batshit. No explanation. Nothing. Does Pete Wentz realize how insane he makes her sound? Did he ever care to figure out what was wrong with this girl? Love doesn't make you send long detailed e-mails about nothing in lower case letters. Insanity does.
The most unintentionally hilarious part is that this novel doesn't fail as hard in that department as it does in the supporting characters department. Not because they're underdeveloped (although they are), but rather they're way more interesting than the story. That's right, Pete Wentz's underdeveloped supporting characters would make a better story than his "fabricated" one. The Disaster, who is totally their friend Dirty, is probably the most developed because he has this terribly sad back story. You've just gotta feel this guy's pain. I'm not going to say what it is, but you see him in an entirely different light. The Animal, who is totally the drummer Andy Hurley, beats up a guy for no concrete reason other than "he was beating up my friend, therefore his bowels must be ripped out by his mouth". And it's awesome. Seriously, the Animal is too cool. He beats up the guy, then the guy runs away and they follow him home and beat him up in front of his mother. No one could be that badass. Why couldn't this novel been about him? Oh yeah, there's Martin, named so intelligently after lead singer Patrick Martin Stumph, who is a worrywart but caring friend to our careless main character. He's okay.
This all made me realize that if Pete Wentz made a story revolving around one of these characters and his character was just a side, I'd probably say, "That guy's bipolar and has a clingy girlfriend! Why couldn't this novel been about him?" There's no doubt in my mind that Pete Wentz would destroy this "fictional" characters with melodramatic and self-indulgent prose. Seriously, Pete, adding lots of adjectives doesn't make your story more eloquent or moving, just more confusing and irritating. But anyway, I now know how insipid and tortuous a story about a bipolar, ambitious up-and-comer in a tumultuous relationship can be. Thanks Pete Wentz.