I am biased on this one, everyone. In every possible way: I know the author. I like the author and want her to like me. If I have any critical distance, it is far, far away. But!

I really loved this book, and I will tell you so in a completely spoiler-filled way (sorry, discretion does not appear to be my great strength these days).

It is creepy, but not terrifying.

It is told in the voice of a sweet, messed up, can't hand in neat homework or excel at basketball or comb his hair 11-year-old boy.

It is funny—really funny.

It talks about love—not romantic love, but love between a boy and his father, or a father and his son, or a boy and his grandfather, or (you get the drift, multiple permutations).

It made me think about stuff.

It is—and I don't really know how to say this in way that doesn't sound entirely dorky—pure of heart.

I read it fast—really fast. It's the first book in a long while that I kept thinking about and wanting to get back to. It came into my head while I was working, shopping, dealing with life, appearing in my imagination like a chocolate bar I was promising myself.

It acknowledges the sweet, tender heart at the center of many (most?) 11-year-old boys.

There you go, happy August!