“Highly recommended reading for those hungry for surprise” (A.J. Jacobs, New York Times bestselling author)—a rollicking collection of personal stories and essays on relationships, technology, and contemporary society from the news editor at Funny or Die and former artistic director at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater. This hilarious collection of essays spans a wide variety of topics. There’s the open letter to Charles Manson, a brave archeologist’s journey into a suburban man cave, and a long overdue, sternly worded letter from Leif Erikson to Christopher Columbus. Walt Whitman even teaches a spin class. Nate Dern’s razor-sharp eye examines modern society and technology, man buns, dating apps, and juicing crazes. Anyone who’s ever scrunched their eyes at WiFi Terms & Conditions, listened to the reasons that led a vegetarian to give up meat, or looked on in horror at the evolving audacity of reality TV will appreciate Dern’s wicked and funny take on modern life. Not Quite a Genius is fun, and funny, “a breath of fresh air that you can eat up bit by bit or all at once” (Abbi Jacobson, cocreator and star of Broad City ). "Nate Dern’s brain is a VitaMix that chops up Kafka, the Internet, Republicans and thousands of other cultural ingredients and blends them into hilarious little treats. The results are not just funny — which they are — but they’re even kind of profound. Highly recommended reading for those hungry for surprise." — A.J. Jacobs, New York Times bestselling author of The Know-it-All and Drop Dead Healthy “Nate is one of those writers and performers that is constantly morphing and changing, always impressing and exceeding my expectations. His book is no different — you never know where it's going to go next, what genre, what format, what unique new take on an old idea. It's a breath of fresh air that you can eat up bit by bit or all at once like a huge hoagie. His book is, in a lot of ways, like a really wonderful sandwich." — Abbi Jacobson , co-creator and star of Comedy Central’s Broad City “So no, Nate Dern may not be quite a genius. Still, he has written a book that is very smart, funny, thoughtful, and that might be just what the world needs.” —The New York Times Book Review Nate Dern grew up in the mountains of Evergreen, Colorado, where he enjoyed running on dirt trails and reading Kurt Vonnegut. Formerly the artistic director at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater, Dern is the current news editor at Funny or Die . He lives in Brooklyn with his wife and their cat, Renly Baratheon. Not Quite a Genius is his first book. Not Quite a Genius Which One Are You? Which one are you?” an acquaintance of an acquaintance asks me at a party. This is a joke he has made after finding out that I was a contestant on a reality TV show called Beauty and the Geek. This is the joke that everyone makes when they find out this information about me. Usually it comes after the conversation turns to whatever reality TV show is currently in the zeitgeist, which leads the acquaintance to mention that, funnily enough, we have a reality TV star in our midst. Namely, me, Nate Dern. Reality TV “star” is a bit too generous, but ten years ago I was a reality TV contestant on the CW’s Beauty and the Geek. The joke teller usually has a happy, sneaky look in his eye, like he is offering me a second piece of cake when everyone was supposed to get only one. Since the show aired ten years ago, I conservatively estimate I’ve heard this joke over thirty-seven thousand times. The logic of the joke is that everyone within earshot will agree that Nate Dern, the human standing there, is so obviously not the titular Beauty that feigning uncertainty as to whether he was the Beauty or the Geek is laughable. There was no actual confusion on the part of the joker as to which role Nate Dern—this guy with glasses and the slight lisp and who just moments ago was telling us about a science podcast—fulfilled on the show, since clearly Nate Dern—I mean, come on, just look at him—was obviously the Geek. Get it? I don’t get mad when I hear the joke, though. I like it because it means the conversation is now about me, and I like attention. That’s why, at the age of twenty-one, I chose to be on a reality show in the first place. I’m not proud of it, but as I ease into my thirties I’m able to admit that my affection for attention is a part of me that isn’t going anywhere, just like the asymmetrical patch of Brillo-thick hair I have on my left shoulder but not my right, or my tendency to say, “It’s easier to stay warm than to get warm,” when someone is about to go outside on a cold day without enough layers on. When I was twenty-one, my itch for attention was acute. It was more of an attention rash than an itch, to he honest, and some days it flared up to full-blown attention hives that could be soothed only by the sweet ointment of the gaze of others. Once when hanging out with my friends Jonah and Carlton, while t