“My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.”
I’ve been itching to read a book, but I have that typical 1st world issue where I have a shelves upon shelves lined with books I have yet to read, yet I don’t feel like reading any of them. I want something new. Something different. And I knew I wanted something John Green because I have been so anxious to get my hands on The Fault In Our Stars or Looking For Alaska. Tim presented me with my very own copy of The Fault In Our Stars on Friday night. Yay! He had his own copy (that I was supposed to borrow), but it was dogeared and passages he liked were underlined, so he gave me a copy of my own to dogear and underline (although I don’t particularly like writing in my books). <3
At 11:30 pm I was immersed in 16-year-old Hazel Grace’s universe, a worldly girl diagnosed with thyroid cancer. She meets Augustus Waters at a Cancer Kids Support Group (which she isn’t fond of going to) whose been NEC for 14 months. It’s the age old boy meets girl formula… I don’t think I have to explain what happens between them, right? John Green’s writing is simple yet poignant. I found myself reading until past 1 am, and when I woke up the next morning I read well into the afternoon and became an emotional wreck. I don’t want to give the plot away, but let’s just say I became emotionally invested in the characters. I had a full on sobfest and was just a heaping mess full of overflowing thoughts. John Green’s way of writing and storytelling just got to me. That talented scribbler got me to ugly cry! Like so:
And of course, since we’re dealing with cancer in this book, I couldn’t help but look at my own life. Here I am, slightly healthy, no sign of any life threatening diseases (that I know of), and what am I doing with myself? Nothing. I work at my old, low paying job as a reading tutor which is something, I suppose. I’m living with my family in my podunk hometown that’s damn near claiming bankruptcy, feeling overly pressured to conform to society by means of getting a well-paying job (and fast!), and I’m not nearly devoted to writing fiction as I was when I was in school. What happened? What am I doing with myself? Where’d my drive go?
I tend to have a love/hate relationship with books that make me think like that and put me in a state of depression. But at the same time feeling that kind of depressed is a good thing. It’s motivating. It makes you want to go out and do something. Being depressed by way of unrequited love is way worse because you can’t do anything about it. Being depressed by way of not being happy with your life is better because at least you know you can do something about it… does that make sense?
The Fault In Our Stars is gut wrenchingly beautiful and inspiring. I’m finding that stories are flowing in my head again (I just need to make sure I buckle down and write). And yes, you will probably get ugly-crying-face too, but it’s completely worth it.
This wasn’t much of a review, but I just feel like this book has left an indelible mark on me and I urge whoever reads this blog to get their hands on a copy and I hope it makes some sort of impact on you as well.