The Big Rewind by Nathan Rabin

I picked up The Big Rewind: A Memoir Brought to You by Pop Culture after hearing an interview with Nathan Rabin last summer on NPR. In the interview, he came across as a pop-culture-loving, geeky meek soul that I could relate to, or at least be friends with in an alternate universe.

It turns out that Rabin is actually a simmering cauldron of rage, or at least that's what comes across in The Big Rewind: A Memoir Brought to You by Pop Culture . I wish that Rabin had waited another ten years to write this memoir, when perhaps the scars of his childhood had faded a bit more. Because it's a truly terrible childhood, and the book is a testament to how art and pop culture can be life-saving.

(On a side note, one of the most annoying things about this edition is the blurb from Patton Oswalt where he's quoted as writing "Nathan's memoir is your memoir is my memoir." Really? The vast majority of Americans, Patton, and myself apparently have spent a life complete an absent mother, a father with multiple sclerosis, clinical depression, a stint in a mental hospital, years in the foster care group home system, and a series of terrible girlfriends.)

That's not to say that the book doesn't have something to offer those of us with less dramatic lives. The memoir works best when Rabin allows vulnerability to seep through and reference something that is actually familiar, such as the chapter on meeting his biological mother juxtaposed with Grey Gardens. Other sections are filled with some great lines, such as "I don't trust anyone who never went through a Holden Caulfield phase. But I fear for anyone who never made it beyond their Holden Caulfield phase." There's no doubting Rabin's talent, and I laughed out loud several times.

However, the book strains the reader's patience when Rabin waxes on about the obscure (hi there 'What's Up Fatlip'); overshares (one trip to the prostitute is fine for me, thanks); or leaves unanswered questions (wait, when does he go to therapy? where are the details about anti-depressants? what happened to Betty?)

I would recommend this book as a gift for the film-loving awkward teenager in your life, or as a choice for a fellow pop-culture devotee, especially if you too have an appreciation for Belle & Sebastian, Nirvana or Roger Ebert. This book is not for everyone, but then again, I doubt it was written for the masses.