The premise of the book is simple: Jeff, a young, naïve, closeted little gay boy from Kansas goes to a big college in California and is sucked into a world of sex and drugs. Since most of the story revolves around his crush on Blair, who draws him into rushing a fraternity, I expected all sorts of power dynamics: quasi-consensual encounters with the frat members as Jeff tries to get in to the frat, out-of-control bacchanals, complicated interplay between Jeff and Blair as neither acknowledge their attraction, instead expressing it in more and more fucked up ways… The possibilities are endless.
That is not what I got.
Complexity? No. This book has no complexity at all. Jeff's interaction with Blair, which goes something along the lines of: "Hi, I'm Jeff." "Hi, I'm Blair. OMG I luv you 4evar." This presents kind of a problem for the book as a romance, since the romance is resolved in the first twenty pages. But right, this isn't a romance. It's porn. But if your two main characters declare their eternal love for each other as soon as they meet, how do you fit in all teh hot sex?
Easy. Jeff's a horndog. He says yes to everything. Every drug he's offered he takes; every time he's offered sex, he takes it. And this is not done in a dark, twisted, self-destructive kind of way. It's just sort of straightforward, and then I did pot and didn't go to class. No self-examination, no consequences. This leads to sequences like this:
Jeff: "OMG I did coke and then fucked Mike and now Blair's pissed at me cause I cheated on him."
Other dude: "Man, that really sucks."
Jeff: "Yeah. I really miss him. I wish I hadn't fucked things up by sleeping with Mike."
OD: "You know, Blair really loves you. I'm sure he'll take you back."
Jeff: "Really?"
OD: "Yeah, sure."
…
OD: "Wanna fuck?"
Jeff: "Absolutely!"
The resolution of this potential complication, Jeff cheating on Blair repeatedly, is that Jeff and Blair talk and agree that since Jeff can't keep it in his pants, it's totally okay for him to fuck other people when he's horny if Blair's not around. Even if Blair's just gone out to the deli—when the mood strikes, Jeff can't be held responsible for his actions, and Blair's totally okay with that. (Sockpuppet!)
Which brings us to the sex scenes. Oh, the sex scenes. Let's just say the author's only way of describing anything is by saying "sexy as hell." As in, "Blair was sexy as hell. He took off his shirt. It was sexy as hell."
All of that would be bad enough, but the majority of the book isn't even about that. The majority of the book is about initiations, told with all the nuance of a frat boy's diary. The descriptions read like: "And then I drank four beers and smoked a joint and drank another beer then threw up." Greeeeat. There are also passages like when Jeff says he rushed with eleven other guys, then describes each of the other guys: names, hometowns, hobbies, and of course appearance. This takes pages. Do we ever even hear about most of these guys again? No we do not.
There is, of course, a villain of the piece. The bad guy is immediately identified, before he's done anything at all, because he can't hold his liquor, doesn't smoke pot, isn't gay, and—horrors!—isn't ridiculously attractive. I mean—he has zits and isn't tanned. Yeah, what a douche. He totally deserves to be ostracized and hazed for that.
In conclusion—don't read this book. Really. The only thing Every Frat Boy Wants It has going for it is a bitchin' cover.