Scott Pilgrim and the Infinite Sadness: Why Volume 3 Is Still the Best

Scott Pilgrim and the Infinite Sadness: Why Volume 3 Is Still the Best

Honestly, most people remember the vegan police. You know the scene. Todd Ingram, the bass-playing god with the "psychic" powers, gets his abilities revoked because he ate gelato. Or chicken parmesan. It depends on which version you’re watching or reading, but the punchline is the same: being a vegan is a superpower, and cheating on your diet is a mortal sin. It’s hilarious. It’s peak 2000s humor.

But if you only know Scott Pilgrim and the Infinite Sadness from the movie or the "Scott Pilgrim Takes Off" anime, you are missing the actual soul of the story.

Volume 3 is where Bryan Lee O’Malley stopped writing a goofy "boy meets girl, boy fights exes" parody and started writing something that actually hurts. It’s the pivot point. Before this, Scott is just a lovable ditz. After this? You start to realize he might be kind of a monster. Or at least, he’s a guy who has spent his entire life editing his own memories to make himself the hero of a story where he’s actually the villain.

The Envy Adams Factor

Let’s talk about Envy. In the movie, Brie Larson plays her as this untouchable, ice-cold rock star. She’s great. But in the book, the "Infinite Sadness" of the title refers as much to her as it does to Scott.

We find out that Envy wasn't always "Envy." She was Natalie. She was a dorky girl who loved Scott, played in a band with him, and stayed with him through the lean years. Then she changed. She became successful, she became "cool," and she left Scott behind.

Scott spends the first half of the series acting like she’s a demon who ripped his heart out for no reason. But Volume 3 forces him (and us) to look at the flashbacks. We see the college years. We see that Scott was needy, stagnant, and kind of a drag. Natalie didn't just wake up and decide to be mean; she grew up, and Scott refused to.

Why the "The Clash at Demonhead" show matters

The concert at Lee's Palace is the centerpiece of this volume. It’s not just a backdrop for a fight. It’s a literal confrontation with the past.

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  • Sex Bob-Omb is playing the opening slot.
  • Envy is looking down at them from the stage.
  • Todd Ingram is standing there being the "better" version of Scott.

It’s humiliating. If you’ve ever had to see an ex who is doing way better than you—who is dating someone "cooler" than you—you know that specific, nauseating pit in your stomach. That’s what O’Malley captures here. It’s not about the glowy sword fights; it’s about the feeling of being small.

The Truth About Todd Ingram and the Vegan Academy

Todd is the third evil ex, but he’s also the most pathetic. He’s a "super-vegan." He can burst holes in the moon with his mind. He can telekinetically toss Scott across a room like a ragdoll.

But he’s a fraud.

The whole "vegan" thing is a metaphor for elitism. Todd thinks he’s better than everyone because of his lifestyle choices, but he’s actually just a serial cheater who uses his status to get away with being a jerk. He’s cheating on Envy with Lynette (the drummer with the bionic arm), and he previously cheated on Ramona with Envy.

The fight doesn't end because Scott is a better warrior. It ends because the Vegan Police show up. It’s a literal deus ex machina. Todd loses his powers because he’s a hypocrite.

There is a lesson there. In the world of Scott Pilgrim, you can have all the "stats" and "powers" in the world, but if you’re a hollow person, the universe eventually catches up to you.

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The Weird, Sad Reality of the "Glow"

This volume introduces "the Glow." If you’ve only seen the movie, you might think the purple flashes around Ramona’s head are just a cool visual effect. They aren’t.

The Glow is a psychological weapon. It’s a literal manifestation of emotional baggage and self-loathing. Gideon Graves (the big bad) uses it to trap people inside their own heads, forcing them to obsess over their worst memories.

Ramona isn't just "mysterious" or "moody." She is literally being haunted by her past. When her head glows, she’s drowning in the "Infinite Sadness."

Scott isn't immune

What’s wild is that Scott starts to get it too. He starts seeing things. He starts forgetting things. Volume 3 is the first time the books hint that Scott’s "stupidity" is actually a defense mechanism. He "forgets" the bad things he’s done so he doesn't have to feel the Glow.

It makes the ending of the volume—where Scott gets an "Extra Life"—feel less like a video game win and more like a stay of execution. He hasn't fixed himself. He just got another chance to keep making the same mistakes.

What Most People Get Wrong About the Ending

People think the "Infinite Sadness" ends when Todd explodes into coins.

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It doesn't.

The volume ends with a quiet conversation between Scott and Envy. No fighting. No jokes. Just two people who used to love each other realizing they don't even know who the other person is anymore.

Envy tells Scott to grow up.
Scott realizes that he can't blame Todd for "stealing" Natalie, because Natalie is gone. She chose to become Envy.

It’s a brutal realization.


How to actually read (and appreciate) Volume 3 today

If you’re revisiting the series or diving in for the first time because of the 20th anniversary, don't just rush through the pages to get to the action.

  1. Look at the background characters: O’Malley hides a lot of the story’s heart in the expressions of Kim Pine and Stephen Stills. They see Scott’s nonsense even when he doesn't.
  2. Compare the flashbacks: Pay attention to how Scott remembers his time with Natalie versus how the "objective" flashbacks look. The art style subtly shifts.
  3. Read the liner notes: If you have the color hardcover editions, read the behind-the-scenes stuff. O’Malley was going through his own "infinite sadness" while writing this, and it shows.

The real takeaway from Scott Pilgrim and the Infinite Sadness isn't that vegans are psychic. It’s that your past will eventually hunt you down, and no amount of "Extra Lives" can save you if you aren't willing to actually look in the mirror.

Go back and read the Honest Ed's chapter again. Look at the chaos of that store. It’s a perfect metaphor for Scott’s brain—a messy, over-commercialized discount bin of memories that’s eventually going to explode.

Once you see the sadness, you can't un-see it. And that’s what makes it a masterpiece.