The primary conceit, and ephemeral joy, of Jeff Weiss’s freewheeling ode to a time in Hollywood when celebrities were simply “famous for being famous” is that Waiting for Britney Spears never sits still long enough to give the reader a clear definition of just what it is. Is it a tabloid tell-all obsessively focused on Britney’s chipped manicures and bleach jobs? A drug- and drink-fueled rite of passage for its narrator, navigating the purgatory of the Sunset Strip on his path to becoming a legitimate journalist? Or just a phantasmagoric beach read that one might treat as an entirely fictional universe?

What we do know is that, despite the tumultuous path Weiss chose–whether out of naivety or desperation–he did become a renowned journalist. For the past two decades, he has cultivated his website, Passion of the Weiss, and earned a reputation as a hip-hop guru capable of writing lucid treatises on everything from “Shake Ya Ass” to the Grateful Dead’s Shakedown Street. Britney Spears seems like a daunting subject: a symphony of crescendos and decrescendos, euphoria, and ultimate tragedy. But Weiss uses her timeline as a map for his own awakening. The book reads like a Memento-style walkthrough of fever dreams bathed in perfect sun, allegedly true stories woven from a sativa haze of half-remembered memories.

In those tabloid trenches, where Weiss was once arrested for stalking Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie for People magazine and another time profanely berated by Bob Saget over his employer’s relentless harassment of the Olsen Twin, he reflects expertly on the absurdity of it all. These reflections come not as nostalgic revisionism, but as real-time recollections. There are paparazzi car chases that rival the insanity of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (Weiss even has his own Dr. Gonzo in photographer Oliver) and tender moments when the author finally meets Britney amidst a last-call brawl between Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton. Even if you never watched an episode of The O.C. or indulged in the reality horrorshow that was The Osbournes, reliving an era when politics were boring and we weren’t hypnotized by our own screens is invigorating.

In one memorable scene, Weiss stumbles into a party at the Playboy Mansion. Paid to report on the daily escapades of Ms. Spears, he channels both Joan Didion and Lester Bangs with prose that veers seamlessly from essayistic meditation to lurid celebrity lore to memoir-like confession–all often within a single paragraph:

“I learned early to always act like you’ve been there before. Treat this star-studded Dionysian reverie as just another ho-hum Friday night in my life. Of course, there are delusions you’d expect from a 21-year-old crashing this holy grail of American hedonism. Playboy may be a dated artifact of Boomer fantasy that no one in my generation reads. And a doddering 77-year-old in a smoking jacket dating women my age is downright gross. But I am a born sucker for the Los Angeles of the platinum imagination, the quest to reach the final room in a never-ending carousel of trapdoors and false ceilings. Pull the candelabra, the wall rotates, and you’re in Shangri-La. Except this time it’s Miss September frolicking naked in the grotto, hanging on to every quip from David Spade.”

What we know about Britney Spears from her own memoir, The Woman in Me, or her constant Instagram feed of infinite dances and incoherent musing, is that the tabloids, fame, and her family’s greed are all to blame. For what? Where are we now? The post-truth era of constant notifications and information silos we all live in? Weiss’ greatest strength is blurring the line between reality and fantasy. That’s something Britney did throughout her career. The book offers few grand truths besides perhaps some revealing annecdotes about Kevin Federline you wouldn’t find elsewhere. But Weiss could have written this about the Olsen Twins, Joey Fatone, or Freddie Muniz with equal flair, and it would be just as illuminating.

In the grand 2001: A Space Odyssey of it all, Britney Spears is the monolith. Like it or not, she is the story if we rewind the first decade of this century. Weiss may owe his career to his wanton surveillance of Britney and all her foibles, but it was worth it to be that close to the sun.