Hey, do you remember the 1980s? Remember how much fun they were? Don't you love reminiscing about Duran Duran, Morrissey, and John Hughes movies? Don't you get a little thrill when a writer mentions a song or pop singer that you love, causing you to gasp "Hey! I had that record, too!"

Rob Shevvield's book is a well-written account of his adolescence dissected, deconstructed, and annotated by the pop radio hits of 1980-1989. It's droll and insightful and has some great one-liners, but it is ultimately a redundant work. I feel as if I have read this book many before, either by Nick Hornby, Chuck Klosterman, or any of their pale imitators.

Pop-culture navel gazing is a tempting pastime (I should know--I'm guilty of it myself), but it eventually gets you nowhere. Sheffield hasn't committed any major sins in writing this entertaining little book; he just hasn't taken me anywhere.