A dysfunctional love story to the theatre. A coming-of-age tale cast within NYC and on unknown stages. The author’s story is keen to spark the hearts of any theatre kid or Broadway enthusiast. Full of both hopeful adventure and tragic experience, the reader can feel each puff of a cigarette and each ride on a NYC subway. I appreciated the experiences being shared, but aside from small theatre exposure I have, it did not resonate with me deeply.

Thank you NetGalley, Globe Pequot, and author John DeVore for the ARC in exchange for my honest review. “Theatre Kids” was published June 18, 2024!

<i>Theatre Kids</i> is part love letter to amateur theatre, part memoir of alcoholism and addiction. Two disparate parts angling for center stage throughout, and to the detriment of both.

The author seems to have learned many lessons on his journey (applause!), but fails to really impart them — an honest attempt at vulnerability that never totally scratches the surface.

The titular community is introduced, but never fully brought to life - not really meeting my expectations of a book with this title.

A rambling look at one young man’s experiences in New York City Off-Off Broadway theater life, as well as his upbringing in Texas and — mostly — his life as an alcoholic and drug addict.

The part of the book that worked for me was the account of a very bizarre production of Faulkner staged inside a wooden box. Unfortunately, I got pretty impatient with the narrator’s rambling lack of ambition, drive or pretty much anything other than snarking about other, more talented people while stumbling outside to take a hit of coke off a key next to a dumpster.

There’s something potentially interesting about the memoir of a theater kid who comes to realize he has absolutely no talent for the career he moved to New York to achieve, but I didn’t really find it in this book.

I enjoyed this. It’s an ode to broadway and performing. It’s full of interesting characters and behind the scenes looks at the realities of acting. Think theatre kids will love this.

I have always loved theatre so I wanted to read about the off Broadway experience and being able to see the background of the theatre lifestyle was very interesting.

A memoir of a life spent pursuing the dream of theatre and largely having those dreams crushed. This is also a story of addiction and the abdication from real life to a life of fantasy. It is written with a kind of desperate wit and pity for the man he once was and a sort of gritty honesty that reveals much about the author and shines a light on the ease with which time spent pursuing the arts can be used to replace the need to build an actual, real, life. This was much sadder than the synopsis implied, but pretty compelling nonetheless.

3.5 Stars. Reading Theatre Kids is kind of like pulling up a seat at a bar and discovering that you're sitting next to a slightly drunk (but blessedly gifted) storyteller. It's going to be a bit of a long winded ramble, but you're going to have a pretty good time listening. DaVore generalizes a bit ("Here are some signs that you're a theatre kid...") to set the tone and get some laughs, but it never bothered me. The main "story" (if these musings can even be classified as such) doesn't really start till about halfway through, when rehearsals of "In a Strange Room" begin. From here on out, DaVore does an amazing job of capturing the feel of a very specific time and place (namely, the avant-garde theatre community circa early 2000's). If this world interests you, you're probably in for a good ride. If not, you may be left slightly wondering if the destination was worth the journey. (**ARC provided by NetGalley**)

Its supposed to be a love letter, but it feels a bit too negative in tone for me. The big generalizations annoyed me - as a theatre kid myself. Not the best read, but I did take some things out of it.

I think this book was good. I requested it because it sounded interesting, and it was. The cast of characters was interesting and all so different from one another

I was incredibly excited and entertained by this book for the first 50 or so pages but as the story went on I ended up being a little disappointed in the tone. The author talks a lot about his alcoholism and disillusionment with theatre, which I think a lot of theatre kids can relate to but I wish it ended on a bit of a more positive note. If it's trying to be a love letter to theatre and the nerdy little sincere weirdos who love it I think it could have done a better job with that. I thought a lot about this book was fun but DeVore didn't stick the landing for me. That being said, I can think of a lot of people who would love to buy and read this. A lot of it reads like a fun inside joke and I liked that, and John DeVore does a good job in explaining different terms and details to people who may not be as in the know.

Finally, a book for theatre people who were too weird for Broadway. I don’t know what it says about me, a BA-holding former NYC theatre person who also has a dead dad, but as I write this I am currently while in active labor, about to give birth to my son. I loved this book so much that I finished it and needed to write my thoughts between painful contractions.

I related to this book a lot. I was also a theatre person who drank my way through drama school, and I loved getting the off-off Broadway perspective of the art form. The author perfectly captures the equal parts self-deprecation and total reverence for the art form that being a weird theatre person comes with. It was also really, really funny, and had me laughing out loud frequently (great for the book, not great for the contractions).

Thank you to John DeVore for this story. It was a love letter to theatre in a way that is typically overlooked by a lot of professionals. Keep it alive.

Being a theatre kid myself, I was excited to read this book. Unfortunately, it was a DNF for me. I felt that the author made sweeping generalizations based on his own experiences. This made me dislike him. I’m sure other theatre kids will enjoy this book, but it didn’t work for me.