The book opens with a grade A taste of Hollywood slickness and insincerity. You’re ushered into the backlot of Harold Brothers Studios with Misha and his new “very big problem”. You don’t get an idea of what’s coming until after the startling piano scene, but when you do, it is so worth it. Look past the Hollywood archetypes and you start to see the thread that Chuck Tingle is weaving through his horrors. Each one isn’t just the boogeyman, it’s linked to something real and tangible in his life. All real horrors that if he doesn’t solve soon, he and his best friend will end up dead. This is how you weave social narrative into a book. It’s not preachy, it’s not beating you over the head, it doesn’t make you feel bad about your choices in life. (Looking at you Black Box of Doom; take notes man.) It’s taking the tired and expected tropes and beating new life into them with love and a deep introspection that frankly Hollywood needs to pay more attention to. This is what is missing. This is what is needed. Bring on the gay joy. It’s long overdue.