I make it a habit of avoiding memoirs published by men in their 30s, so never got around to reading Wil Wheaton’s Just A Geek, despite it seeming squarely in my wheelhouse. Reading this annotated version drove home to me how wise that policy continues to be, despite the many interests the author and I share, including but not limited to Star Trek, sci-fi, acting, blogging, tabletop games and parenting.
The trouble with the vast, vast majority of autobiographies written by men in their 30s is that the authors cannot properly view the trauma they’ve undergone — which is what largely compels men like these to write these books at this stage in their lives — without managing to sound both trite and obliviously self-important. The luckiest of these authors at least have an inkling of how much therapy they still need, but almost none of them realize that time (at the very least, and even without the benefit of actively working on your spiritual/emotional well-being) almost always grants a very necessary perspective. Mr Wheaton was, unfortunately, no different. I can absolutely see why Entertainment Weekly succinctly if harshly called the original book whiny. There’s a lot of unprocessed trauma on display and a lot of attempts at edginess that just come off as douchebaggery.
So it’s a fascinating enterprise to see Mr Wheaton tackle his book once more almost two decades later. His annotations are almost all correct, both in exploring the deeper truth behind what he said at the very turn of the 21st century and in apologizing for unfortunate language and narrative choices, with one caveat: I do think that he’s actually a little too hard on his younger self, particularly in his adoption of projected optimism as a coping mechanism. Sure, he says now that the confident pronouncements that he made back then were in service to placating the “Prove Everyone Wrong” voice in his head, but there’s still value in making positive affirmations about yourself and your goals, and it seems weird to kick his younger self over what was essentially a helpful, if not outright necessary, way to deal with life’s disappointments.








