(4 / 5)
Note: The following review was originally done for Reedsy and is being reposted here with the permission of the site.
If you’ve ever wondered about any possible connection between self-help books and driving on an interstate highway, Peter Hobbes has this book with a tell-tale title, or subtitle rather, to help you. It’s called Get The F*ck Over … It: A Satirical Self-Help Manifesto for Left-Lane Rage Survivors. The short book, written in a razor-sharp tone that works as a scalpel to dissect the observations of driving in the left lane, offers several different classifications of people who make driving in the left lane a living nightmare.
Instead of sharing first-person stories as a “left-lane rage survivor,” Hobbes assigns all those slow, confused, and erratic drivers collective names based on their driving patterns. Thus you’ll meet the “left-lane squatter,” the “speed enforcer,” the “space cadet,” and several others. Their common indictment, in the author’s words, is committing crimes of speed in the left lane on a highway. But Hobbes’ range of satire doesn’t start and end there.
Each chapter satirizing the frustrating left-lane drivers starts with a reference to some self-help book that has precious advice to offer on how to turn one’s life around. Hobbes then brings in a left-lane driver as the reality check for the self-help lessons in optimism. And then there is some pop music star’s chartbuster to play as the anthem of this scene. Thus Hobbes creates an amusing rhythm to his chapters except the last few wherein he shares a self-assessment quiz for left-lane derangement, a clinical appendix listing the main types of left-lane disorders, and other fun stuff relating the general theme of the book.
Satirical works are aimed at societal reformation and Get The F*ck Over … It is no exception. Hobbes points to a problem that countless drivers in fast lanes face frequently if not every single day of their lives. He just chose to do it in an entertaining manner instead of making it a long dry and boring rant that would induce yawns instead of chuckles.
It’s important to mention that Hobbes’ book shouldn’t be judged by its title that has an F bomb in it. While each chapter of the book ends with the repetition of the same line containing these beeped-out F words, the rest of the book’s content are virtually free of them. The author’s satire is more on the Juvenalian side; yet he doesn’t fill the pages with profanities. The line with the F bomb is included rhetorically at the end of the chapters to reinforce the mood (which is frustration or rage). At worst, its reader discretion stays at PG-13.