Take a story's temperature by studying its tone. Is it hopeful? Cynical? Snarky? Playful?
Bleak and Ominous
Adam Rapp isn't exactly known for writing about happy baby unicorns dancing in fields of candy, although we would totally Shmoop a book about that. Instead, his narrators are often miserable folks on misbegotten journeys—we're just waiting for Jamie to get snatched by a serial killer on every page of Punkzilla. Allow us to suggest that you keep a bucket of candy (or unicorns) within reach as you read.
Here's an example of Punkzilla's vibe:
[…] Branson got crazy and slapped him again and said "I'm not your f***ing son b****!" and the man went red in the face and just stared at him and then Branson turned and walked away and later when we were going over to the Roxy to meet up with Fat Larkin I asked him why he did that and Branson said "Punk-ass needed to be taught a lesson and then I asked him what lesson and he was like "A life lesson son!" (3.7)
Not exactly sunshine and roses, right? Branson is angry, and the tone does nothing to redeem this or make it more comfortable for readers.
Here's another example, just a couple of paragraphs later:
He told me to call him when I got to Memphis which is weird because he doesn't have a cell phone and there wasn't a phone in our room at Washington House just a payphone in the hall that hardly ever worked. I promised him I would call him but I know deep down that I may never see him again. I better go because I feel like I'm going to be sick. (3.9)
And so it goes. You can practically feel the despair oozing out of the pages. After you eat your bucket of candy (or play with your bucket of unicorns), you'll probably find yourself wanting to take a long, hot shower with an astringent after-bath splash.