Jackass fans rejoice! Everybody else, shrug politely.
Followers of Johnny Knoxville's sadistic comedy stunt crew are a loyal bunch. They've stuck with Johnny et al. through a TV series and three movies that, while often hysterical, can grow repetitive. So, would a memoir from one of the original Jackasses be a worthy endeavor? Like the show, sometimes. With an assist from Spin magazine scribe Peisner, Glover proves himself to be an engaging storyteller, ripping through his bumpy, trouble-filled childhood, his rise to semi-fame and his descent to drug and alcohol addiction with a train-without-brakes momentum. Friends, family and Jackass-ian characters are heard from throughout, giving the book the feel of a whacked-out oral history. This structure was a canny decision, as the differing perspectives and voices add much-needed diversity—had it been all Steve-o, all the time, it might have become redundant. Knoxville actually gets off several of the best lines—e.g., of Steve-o's need to perform all the time, he notes, “I'm an attention whore myself, but he’s an attention whorehouse.” Steve-o also gets points for truth-telling, describing his incessant bad behavior with unflinching honesty, and he ultimately comes across as a funny, lovable, occasionally embarrassing goofball cousin.
Lowbrow, vulgar and sometimes hilarious—Jackass aficionados will eat this up.