Cute, but generally insipid.
Paul attempts to write one of those feel-good, nostalgic memoirs about life as a kid which, for most of us, is one long lesson in the school of hard knocks. Despite some mild hazing from his peers (really, little more than what most of us face for one reason or another), Paul manages to "blossom" into one of the most neurotic teenagers I've ever heard of. Adult Paul, while writing about his past self, is wonderfully candid about his many eccentricities, and is quick to point out the many times he was deserving of all the ridicule he received. I'll say this for him as an author: he is both honest and humble. Unfortunately, that's about all I can say.
Generally, the focus of one of these books is to create something that is relatable, funny, heartwarming, and inspiring. This book did not prove inspiring in any sense, though Paul may not have been going for quite that angle. He was an ordinary kid doing ordinary stuff, not aspiring to any great heights that we know of and certainly not reaching any. Heartwarming, well, your mileage may vary on that one, but for the most part I found myself shaking my head rather than basking in glowing rays of warmth. Funny...again, I suppose your mileage may vary. There are a few good laughs in this, and the author's overall candor is often appreciable, but many of the jokes in this little book fall flat--and they do so with a disheartening thud. Relatable? In some ways, though I've never been a teenage boy so I suppose I can't say for sure on that one.
Over and over while reading this, I asked myself "Why was this written?" What was the point? Why this man, in particular? It would have been just as sensible for me to write a book...and I'm about as much of a nobody as it is possible to be. Nobodies can write wonderful autobiographies if they have something to say, but for the most part, I don't think Paul had much to say at all. Far from being a sweet little portrait of nostalgia--or indeed a useful commentary on what it is to be an adolescent--this book reads like someone's chatty diary, with very little of the insight I look for in a good memoir.
The verdict? Borrow this if someone else happens to have it, but don't waste your money.