Danny Wallace is twenty-nine. He is newly married, living in a nice house, and finding it harder and harder to pop to the pub with his mates, let alone start an international cult or say ‘Yes’ to everything for months on end. Due to a confluence of events, Danny decides that the best way to deal with his encroaching adulthood is to track down his twelve best friends from his pre-teen days of moving with his family around Scotland, England and Germany.
To get my small gripe out of the way: This book suffers the same problem as all of Wallace’s other works, in that he does exactly the same thing over and over again for four hundred pages, so it veers dangerously close to getting a bit repetitive towards the end. That having been said, like his previous books, this is redeemed and made fun by Wallace’s ability to spin a good tale, and by the sheer sense of joy radiating from the book. This story managed to be both entertaining and uplifting, and, given that I am only two years past my thirtieth birthday, and spent the weekend reading about Danny Wallace’s manful struggles with home-repairs in-between doing a spot of gardening and lawn-work myself, this is one of the few books I’ve read recently that is actually counts as age-appropriate.