I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell

People like Tucker Max are the reason women become Lesbians. He is probably one of the most despicable people on the planet. His lack of empathy towards anyone and everyone makes not only men but humans in general look bad. If I were a woman from another country and read this book it would probably make me not only hate men but never want to be alone in the room with one again. I personally know people like Max, have had to work around them and listen to them. It is beyond sad. People like him are the reason you cannot compliment a coworker without getting hit with sexual harassment. What is even sadder is that they think they are funny and witty. No they are just shallow and immature.

So if you know anything about Tucker Max, you know he's absurdly sexist and ribald and anything but respectful of women. I can't deny, though, that he's a decent writer and tells a funny story -- which, although they are often at the expense of women he's dated, are almost as frequently at his own expense, which in my opinion covers a multitude of sins. I needed a book that would force me to laugh in spite of some very not-funny situations in my life currently, and this book fit the bill perfectly. Also, it made me absurdly grateful that I never dated Tucker Max, or anyone remotely resembling him.

I think these stories are totally believable. I saw and experienced much of the same when I was 17 and 18. But why are these adolescent experiences subjects for a book? There were no moral epiphanies, no poetic phrasing, no existential wanderings; nothing. It was all just sex, flatulence, vomiting, alcoholic blackouts, and disgracing / taking advantage of other people (sometimes all in the same story). There are really two problems here: First, the writing and editing are absolutely horrible. Secondly, how the fuck did this become a New York Times bestseller? What the fuck is wrong with this world? I picked it up at a Goodwill. I knew that a movie had been made about it so I thought I would give it a chance. Bad mistake. Bestseller?!? show more Movie?!? Before now I have never burned a book, but I torched this motherfucker. I didn't want someone else to stumble across it in a Goodwill and be jolted by the alarming shock of the giant steaming pile of bullshit that has become of our culture. show less

I'm ashamed to admit I LOVED this book and have recommended it to EVERYONE! It's dirty, it's awful and so indulgent. I only hope I never met Tucker in a "past" life.

This book is not for the faint of heart ... it's graphic and disgusting. But you will laugh your ass off while reading it. And when people stare at you in the coffee shop, all you can say is "Gotta read this book!"

This book is a remarkable piece of writing. The author has the uncanny ability to make you despise him whilst at the same time making you laugh out loud and, in some sick way, wish you were him.

This book was so bad, I wish I could give it 0 stars. A few months ago I read an excerpt from it and thought it was hilarious. It was chosen as a book club read this month, so I had the opportunity to read the whole thing, which I just couldn't. I can't believe I paid money for this book, which basically is glorifying this guy's behavior. I could only take so much vomiting, pissing, other bodily fluids...not to mention how disrespectful and hateful he is of people, especially women (I am pretty open-minded, and not an obnoxious feminist, so it takes a lot for me to say that). If I were this guy's mother, I would be mortified at having raised that. I couldn't even finish the book (and I always finish the book no matter how bad it is). I show more did buy this book, but it will go straight to the recycle bin. It will not be passed on. show less

If you’ve read one story, you’ve read them all. I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell is 300+ pages of a redundant play-by-play of the same scenario: protagonist gets blackout drunk, typically pukes or craps himself, gets laid. I say “protagonist” and not “Tucker” because though the author claims these stories are true, there’s no way in Hell they are. Sure, there is some semblance of truth to these stories, but many of the details are impossible. But that’s not the worst strike against this book. The worst strike is the writing itself. Whoever edited this book (Ah, I’ll go ahead and say it: Jeremie Ruby-Strauss) needs to be fired post-haste. To allow switched tenses in the same paragraph over and over again is clearly not show more artistic license, because the author is not that good of a writer, but only one thing: bad writing. Then there’s the fact the author only a few times describes with any sense of detail what a person looks like or what the environment looks like; girls are “hot” faceless mirages with “big tits” and everything takes place in a “bar” or “club.” Those are just a few examples among many. As for the bigger picture, let’s go deeper. It’s a shame the author, who is clearly intelligent with a few noble intellectual pursuits, uses those two tools as weapons to pursue his sociopathic aims without regard to anyone or anything except, as he states, personal gratification. The author claims, “I do contribute to humanity in one very important way: I share my adventures with the world.” That’s like saying Hitler contributed to humanity because he wrote Mein Kampf, except for one major difference: Hitler’s a better writer. The protagonist claims, “I’m awesome,” and other sycophantic congratulatory statements, and this comes off as funny to the half-wit frat boys and cute to the Hannah Montana fans that occupy most sorority houses, but it waxes dumb and immature to anyone over the age of twenty-three. Is the author therefore holding up a giant mirror to show everyone the new American culture of Dumb? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Yet the fact this book is a New York Times Bestseller is definitely a reflection of such; if not, it’s clearly a sign of the manipulation of The New Dumb. The protagonist/author claims he’s committed himself to writing. I challenge him to do so. This will require an immense amount of reading and writing, otherwise the author will continue writing what amounts to grocery lists. But if this is what our young culture likes to read (which isn’t surprising in this age of half-literate twenty-somethings who only understand the hyphenated language of txt msging ), then Yahweh, Muhammed, Buddha, Shiva, and Rocky Balboa save us all. LOL.

If you enjoy reading about a character who’s had everything provided for him (money, education, way too much free time—he laments the multiple divorces and marriages of his parents as being the reason he's an asshole, but how lame—this is the 21st century, who hasn’t come from a broken home?), then this book is for you. Be warned: you will find no poetry here—in the words, the experience, nothing. And as for the claim—“My name is Tucker Max, and I am an asshole”—get it right; “Tucker” is not an asshole, he’s just a jackass.

Perhaps this diatribe has made you want to read the book. Perhaps you now want to sleep with “Tucker Max.” Go ahead, join the herd. I hear the beer is “rodeo cold” in Idiot Hell. show less