Former Los Angeles ad exec Evans takes a humorous approach to a serious subject as he addresses the depression that descended on him over various periods of his life, leaving him dangerously immobilized. A recent bout of depression precipitated a more aggressive approach to his mental illness: a few days before 9/11, Evans was suddenly laid off from his fancy job at an ad agency and offered two weeks' severance; soon he became anxious about how to support his wife and children in their new house in suburban Southern California. Watching the news about the World Trade Center attack only compounded his sense of helplessness and grief, and he clearly recognized that he had hit rock bottom. His account—by turns grossly humorous, extremely self-critical and brutally honest—depicts months of indulging in porn, beer and denial before forcing himself to seek professional help and mend the precious relationships in his life such as with his wife and two young children. Therapy prompted him to ponder his own childhood growing up a good Jewish boy in Simi Valley, Calif., and the issues of anger and agency he wrestled with. Evans addresses feelings of fear and confusion that men are often not allowed to express, and readers may find his wisecracking memoir most useful.