Monday, April 29, 2013

The Fault In Our Stars

Are you ready for another book? Too bad - you don't get a choice. My latest book is The Fault In Our Stars by John Green.

(Spoilers!) 

This book has been hyped all over the place. That is usually a bad thing for me - it means that I will have very, very large expectations and then be disappointed. I was sure this was what I was in store for when I read the author's note:

"This is not so much an author's note as an author's reminder of what was printed in small type a few pages ago: This book is a work of fiction. I made it up.
Neither novels nor their readers benefit from attempts to divine whether any facts hid inside a story.  Such efforts attack the very idea that made-up stories can matter, which is sort of the foundational assumption of our species. 
I appreciate your cooperation in this matter."

Well. OK, then. 

I called TJ into the room to read this to him. I told him that I either loved this guy - or he was the biggest, most pretentious douche-face that I have ever read anything written by. I think I was right on both accounts. 

Super quick synopsis - Hazel has incurable cancer. She is going to die. However - no one really knows when since this miracle drug has stopped her mets in her lungs from growing. She is on borrowed time, and she knows it. Her parents are convinced she is depressed and needs to talk to someone and send her to this support group for teens with cancer in the basement of a church. 

She meets Augustus Waters. Augustus is in remission - and they strike up a friendship which quickly turns to much more while they deal with health scares from Hazel and their friends. One friend - Isaac - loses both of his eyes in his battle with cancer. Hazel is scared to get too close to Gus - because she is dying, but they keep a very close friendship. They bond over books - and Gus even uses his wish from a sort of make-a-wish place to take Hazel to the Netherlands to meet her favorite author, Peter Van Houten. Van Houten ends up being a sick, nasty drunk - who has had a child die from cancer and is not a believer in hope. 

In Amsterdam - we learn that Gus's cancer has returned, and he is dying. The end of the book is about the end of Gus. 

So. Freaking. Sad. 

I remember when I decided I really liked this book, when Hazel strikes down the "you have to have suffering to know joy" argument by pointing out that the existence of broccoli does not affect the taste of chocolate. I am totally stealing that in the future. Hazel's insight is genius. Living while dying has allowed her to have this kind of clarity that is refreshing. She is clear and direct without being mean and nasty - sometimes harsh - but the world is harsh. Cancer is harsh. 

I loved Gus too. I was surprised how much I liked him - because I usually have a hard time with characters who are TOO good. Gus is TOO good. He is perfect, he knows what to say, when to say it. He is strong, funny, sweet and kind - and I adore him. I physically felt calmer when I was reading about Gus, so I can only imagine how Hazel felt around him. 

The end of Gus is miserable. It is horrible to read about him peeing in his bed and getting stuck at a gas station, covered in his own vomit. As he shrinks, his presence shrinks - even in the telling. He feels smaller, and the end of this book is empty. I felt hollow - like everyone else in the book must be feeling. 

There were parts of the book I did not like. I didn't like the Anne Frank tour, with people standing around in a circle watching Gus and Hazel make out and cheering. Kaitlyn, Hazel's high school friend, is odd and just stuck in there a couple places. I understand she was supposed to show us how disconnected Hazel was - but it either did too good of a job or not good enough. 

Here is the thing. I don't think I like John Greene. What I am about to say is based on nothing other than the reading of this book. I have never read another thing written by him or about him. I get the impression that Mr. Green fancies himself as the smartest, most creative, deepest thinker on the block. He is right, of course. He is brilliant. He has creativity upon creativity. The guy wrote a book inside of a book for cripes sake. I was pretty sure when I was reading that An Imperial Affliction was not a real book. A quick trip to google confirmed my suspicions. I know all of this. I read his book. But come one dude, you don't have to point out all the freaking time that you are the only one that understands what these kids go through in "weird and impossible ways." There are times when he captures a feeling just perfectly - balancing it magically where you feel it but you can't explain. Then there are times when he gets to that moment - but being the only person who could ever understand - he has to explain it to us. Those moments feel condescending - not magical. 

The only reason this book doesn't get added to my "Love this book beyond words, will get added to those that I read over and over and over" list is John Green. My message to him: Mr. Green. You are as amazing as I think you think you are. Please get out of your own way - because I could love you. If I could get past hating you. Thanks. 

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