Oh. My. Goodness.
This was terrible. When I was on page four (on kindle), I deeply regretted having started this. The only reason I finished this book was because I was reviewing it on NetGalley and didn’t want to tank my feedback ratio. It was nearly unreadable.

The story itself and the focus on how art can change lives is interesting and could be great. But it gets lost in the, in my opinion, awful choices throughout the book.

The wannabe-American teenage lingo - hated it.
The way the exposition is done, thoroughly disliked it.
The way the author tries to prove that they know what words mean, comes across as unnecessary and brings nothing to the plot.
Saying ‘brains’ rather than brain throughout the book, super annoying. You have one brain.
The utter unlikeability of the main character and how he treats people around him, especially girls and women, makes it hard to keep going with the story.
Constantly having to make up words, annoying but seems to fit the character (who is annoying).
The inclusion of details about other plays, the videogame etc bring nothing to the story itself, just seems superfluous.
Referring to a phone as ‘my black glass’ through most of the book but as a phone the rest of the time is a strange choice.
Not knowing which characters are Marvel, but referring to them as Marvel comes across as poor research.

Until the final 20% of the book I just felt like the premise was flawed. Who was going to come and watch this play? Other than parents and friends of the cast/crew’s families? I imagine many would pay to not have to watch a play written, directed, and starring middleschoolers. But of course they just happen to know someone who happens to have empty space and that whole city wants to watch the play.

Finally, I dislike that the OCD got ‘fixed’ by putting on the play. It’s an inherently ableist way of looking at mental disorders as if all he needed was to help his brother and find his calling.

I have not reviewed this on Goodreads, as it doesn’t exist there yet.