Ned Vizzini (1981–2013)

Off to a bad start when I pulled it off the shelf and spotted it was blurbed by That Woman. I tried not to let that prejudice me unduly.

I am not the target audience. It was fine for the genre, but not a great fit for me personally. Kids move to a creepy house, magic happens and they're isekai'd to deal with monsters and hazards brought right out of books - specific books they have available. There's a plot here about an evil tome of temptation which they could give to an evil witch to get show more home, if they just act selfishly enough for it to manifest.

So it's an okay teenage adventure book, a genre where it isn't reasonable to expect wildly original plots or extreme subtlety. Characterisation is very thin given the hefty page count of the book - then again, there's a lot of adventure to cram in. So much, in fact, that they have no time for much reflection, even when they get a vision of their home with indication their parents are dead - there's a brief scene of sadness but we're quickly back to the next big action scene. All a bit flimsy, honestly, with little time for any particular set of problems to sink in. We leap from mundanity to witch to banishment to evil raiders to giant to pirates to witch again to weird supervillain battle in a conveyor belt of action sequences with no breathing space. In fairness, the premise of "three books mashed together" and magic makes me willing to accept the implausible way these all link together. Similarly, they're in a book world, so some things working on book logic does make sense. A stronger writer would have perhaps made it more obvious what was working on *diagetic* book-logic, what was working on book-logic we're meant to accept within the genre, and what was meant to be convincing.

Given the theme of temptation to bad impulses, it's a bit hard to tell in places whether characters are doing unwise things because they're human, because they're teenagers with poor impulse control, because of the Evil Book's influence, or if the writing's just unconvincing. Do we really stop to eat the obviously enchanted evil food that little sister is warning us explicitly not to eat, while we are supposedly trying to rescue our two friends from being tortured to death? Do we give a grenade to the tween in case he happens to need a grenade?

It's quite cinematic, to the point that at times I felt scenes weren't really working when written down, but would on-screen. I see other reviewers have pointed out that Columbus is a director and that makes sense - I suspect they are fishing for a film adaptation.

I haven't read a book for this age group in a while, and I do remember there being lots of menace and fairly detailed threats even in decades-old books, so "I'm going to cut off and eat your fingers" isn't too out there, nor is the room made from human bones or the references to torture. However, there's an explicit description of an eye being ripped out (and several mentions of eye-violence), and I was surprised by the actual on-page murders. There's one line that vaguely felt like a hint at sexual violence, but on rereading I think it's meant to be more generic menace but at the girls specifically. So I don't think it's more *violent* than other modern books of the genre, but it did feel more gory. Maybe I'm just out of touch.

The ending of the book is a bit weird, in that it turns out the solution to all their problems is simply to use the evil book of evil to bring them safely home and restore their parents from the dead. I might have missed something, but it was specifically stated that the original Evil(?) Guy got horribly disfigured from overusing the evil book - our heroes have no such downsides. It does make sense that they might resort to it given the desperate situation.

I can't help but notice also that while wishing for things to be restored, they bring back from the "dead" the *entirely fictional* boy that Girl A had a crush on, but don't bring back the *actual living woman* who had been murdered *twice*. I mean, it's a children's book, but that feels like one heck of an oversight. show less

This book's been on my radar for the longest time (I love a good mental health novel) and HOORAY, it was so worth the wait! First of all, let me say that it's quite refreshing to read one of these stories from the perspective of an average guy; not a painfully innocent or shy boy, or a kooky girl, but a regular, testosterone-driven, vaguely worldly fifteen year-old who likes video games, pot and jerking off. Craig's description of his five days in a mental hospital, which he checks himself show more into after a long battle with depression and a night of suicidal crisis - is not only pithy, warm and very realistic (it is drawn from Vizzini's own experiences), it is also, as the title suggest, really kind of funny. It's filled with wonderful characters and it's possibly the most relatable mental health novel I've read yet; I've scrawled so many notes and hearts and stars in the margin to mark passages to go back to next time I need to feel that I'm not alone and that other people have had the same weird thoughts as I'm having. I also watched the movie adaptation, which is quite faithful to the book and put a big smile on my face by the time the credits rolled. Highly recommended! show less

The book differs heavily from the musical, in the sense that the book is a comfy sci-fi with no real villain, and a pretty friendly Squip, and the musical ended up with a villain to up the ante - with that enemy becoming the Squip itself (possibly as apart of a greater plan, but that's just a theory). At the end of the audiobook version I've listened to, it's even pointed out that Book Jeremy still has to make his own choices when working with his Squip (who respects him despite being so show more direct in trying to make Jeremy's goals come to fruition). Musical Jeremy does have some level of agency, but it's very clear that the Musical Squip would love to control everything and everyone all the time if given the opportunity. So the biggest difference between the book and the musical is very much a comfy AI assistant (who, in the audiobook kinda sounded like Duke Nukem, which I found oddly endearing despite the fact that the Squip's book voice is supposed to sound like Keanu Reeves) vs. the charming AI assistant who becomes a control freak in the name of making you "Be More Chill" - and thinking that controlling everything is the answer. I think that's the biggest difference, but for those who came to the book from the musical, you'll be tickled whenever dialogue pops up in the book that's almost line by line lyrics from the songs in the musical itself (I had to resist laughing out loud on a bus when Book Rich was introducing Jeremy to Squips and some oh-so-familiar lyrics of "The Squip Song" were being spoken almost verbatim). The other big difference from the musical is characterization, because while Jeremy is pretty much the same despite his parents NOT being divorced in the book (they're divorce lawyers though, so he's a child of divorce in a different way), but I feel like the musical versions of the characters have more depth to them and some more complete feeling arcs. Everyone in the musical has a nice resolution wrapped up in a bow, while the book has a more open-ended ending and feels just a little incomplete as a result. We're only really stuck in Jeremy's head that he shares with the Squip (which makes it especially fitting when you listen to this book as an audiobook), but coming off of the musical, I really miss insight into the other character's lives and the high school chaos of the musical that comes back around in the ending after the day is saved. In the book, the day is not saved, instead redemption is sought out, but it's a mystery if the redemption Jeremy is seeking will actually be earned or not - the ambiguity of being a confused kid in high school. That open-endedness wouldn't have made for a good musical, so I see why it was changed. As a result, I much prefer the musical, but the book is a decent read that I would suggest if you like the musical. show less

Heartbreaking and funny, sensitive and crude, BMC is more good than bad but, to this reader, flawed by over-the-top adult content. Jeremy Heere is a loser. Worse, he is a victim of quiet, stealth bullying... his Humiliation Sheet --his daily tally of the various insults and injuries he endures-- is a thing of terrible truth. Nonetheless Jeremy has his heart and eyes set on Chrstine. When offered the chance to take a "Squip" an ingestable AI device, Jeremy doesn't hesitate. So begins the show more Squip's job to makeover Jeremy into a cool, desirable object. The lessons are sociologically spot-on and brutal: treat your friends with cool disdain, keep girls waiting, make sexual advancements by coersion, do drugs (in one notable scene, Jeremy does Ecstasy) break the law, and more. Of course, the whole Makeover breaks down with horrible results and Jeremy 'fesses up. His parents seem a bit too quick to forgive and the ending is pat. Christine remains the one unsullied character: smart, funny, and never fooled by Jeremy's antics.

Sexual scenes (some graphic), language, and drug use relegate this book to a more mature audience... had Vizzini been a bit more... restrained... I would put BMC on my must-read list for teens. Some of the social insights, cliques, group dynamics, and dialogue are spot-on.

On a final note: BMC impossible to read without thinking about the author's own fate... so sad. show less