this book really wasnt written for me, so maybe take my review with a pinch of salt cos i dont understand the inner-workings of the upper class white gay society in LA lol. but this was such a snoreeee, i literally rolled my eyes at so many sentences:

- "he had bodyodyody"
- "every day i discover a new flavour of fucked up inside me"
- "piece of literature that rly made u think" (yes, "rly" in a novel PLZ!!!)

AND the fella kept quoting famous people but to the point that i'd say 25% of the book were other peoples words ... and it was only 250ish pages. plus i genuinely counted one of the sentences and it was TWENTY NINE lines long - no full stops.

these r obvs purposeful stylistic choices but come awwwn why r we publishing books that could be confused as twitter threads now. at risk of sounding like an utter wanker who cares too much about the english language (i swear i don't i must be in a bad mood), there were some redeeming bits: it was funny at times and i feel like a learned a bit about cerebral palsy (or, "cerebral lolzy" as elliot calls it … … … … lets move on)

summary: this prally woulda worked better as a netflix limited series (3 episodes only) (that gets taken off two months later)