You will cry, because this is VERY sad.
So a discussion occurred in my head after I rated the book.
Me: *glares* Why not?
A voice in my head (aka VH): Please, don’t. You will ruin your reputation.
Me: *weary* Not that again.
VH: Well, it’s true. You can’t post that. It’s just not okay. Do you have any idea how popular this book is? Hint : YOU CAN’T EVEN GUESS.
Me: Why should I care? Maybe some people think like me.
VH: You don’t understand. It’s not just random book that you can critize like you do all the time and just get away with it. This is THE FAULT IN OUR STARS. And it’s John Green. Believe me, you do NOT want to get in the way of those crazy fans, nerdfighters or whatever it is they call themselves.
Me: Really, what the fuck do I care? I want to give this 3 stars. It’s not like I’m giving it 1 star or something.
VH: But why would you even do that in the first place? EVERYONE, and I do mean EVERYONE in your friend list gave it 5 stars. And they used so many sobbing gifs! Really, it made me cry a little just looking at them.
Me: *stares*
VH: It won the Goodreads award for best YA!
Me: So? Fifty Shades won Best Romance.
VH: It’s got one of the highest general ratings for a book on Goodreads!
Me: Nobody but the Goodreads community actually cares. And wait. I’m not even sure the Goodreads community actually cares. I know I don’t.
VH: You’re such a cold-hearted bitch. Why would you give it only 3 stars anyway? Don’t you have a heart? And why 3 stars? I know you really loved the book, deep down!
Me: I didn’t. I mean, I liked it, it was okay… but I didn’t love it. It’s… I mean… Oh, fuck it. It’s overrated. There! I said it. Sue me.
VH: *seethes* You did NOT just say that.
Me : I did. Because it is! Come on, did you read the dialogues in this? Can we talk about the dialogues? I want to talk about the dialogues.
VH: *crosses arms* Go ahead. I want examples.
Me: Fine. I’ll start with the popular quotes. You know what I’m talking about. The quotes which are totally overrated and everyone loves them and they create pics and stuff when really, if you think about the quote in itself.. Well, you realize that it just, you know, sucks.
VH: *mumbles* How ’bout: you suck?
Me: What was that? Actually, forget it, I don’t give a shit. Listen to this!
“My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.”
VH: So? It’s beautiful.
Me: Well…*tries really hard to refrain from laughing* I mean… Seriously? Like… *fails miserably* HAHAHAHA how more pretentious can you get? Comparing your thoughts to stars? REALLY?
VH: You’re so shallow. Some of us have deep thoughts, you know. Like, thoughts so deep they actually deserve to be compared to the firmament. I don’t even want to explain to you how poetic this is, because I’d waste my time.
Me: Save yourself the effort, I don’t mind. And I’ve got another example. Probably my favorite.
« That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt. »
VH: What now? You’re gonna say that it’s so pretentious it made you cry?
Me: Precisely. *nods wisely* Because that’s the thing about tears. They demand to be wet. Or that’s the thing about food. It demands to be eaten. Or that’s the thing about…
VH: SHUT UP, I get it! There’s no discussion with you. How am I supposed to discuss with someone who’s got the intellectual depth of an empty oyster?
Me: But come on, I’m not finished yet. What about Augustus and his unlit cigarette?
“They don’t kill you unless you light them,” he said. “And I’ve never lit one. It’s a metaphor, see: You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing.”
Me: Is this supposed to be smart? This is pathetic. It’s terrible, it’s not funny, and it’s not deep.
VH: *hisses* It’s a metaphor!
Me: I know!
“It’s a metaphor,” I said, dubious.
“It’s a metaphor,” he said.
“You choose your behaviors based on their metaphorical resonances…” I said.
“Oh, yes.” He smiled. “I’m a big believer in metaphor, Hazel Grace.”
Me: Can you say metaphor again? Say metaphor one more time! Go ahead, say it, I think John Green hasn’t totally forced it down my throat yet! *hysterical yelling* LET’S SAY IT AGAIN! Metaphor! Everything is a METAPHOR!
VH: What’s your point, you freak?
Me: My point is, the dialogues are horrible. It made my eyes burn. It’s pretentious and unbelievable, AND besides, you can totally see that John Green loves the characters.
VH: What author doesn’t like the characters of their own book?
Me: It’s not the same! With John Green… It’s like he adores himself. I bet you anything he re-reads his own books. Just to see exactly how awesome they are.
VH: What? You don’t know that. You cannot possibly say that. How dare you talk about him like you know him.
Me: You know, in the audio version of The Fault in Our Stars, at the end, there’s an interview with him. And he explicitly says that he just LOVES listening to the audio versions of his books. So there.
VH: What? No. You’re wrong. He doesn’t mean, like, he loves it when someone reads him his own books. That’s not what he meant AT ALL. It’s a misunderstanding. What he meant was, he loves listening to the.. the.. reading lady. Because she has such a sweet voice and everything.
Me: Are you kidding me? He’s in love with himself! Augustus is just an hologram. An empty shell. Seriously, his monologues are laughable. I couldn’t even focus. I kept thinking of John Green while reading. Because Augustus is just SO witty, so smart, so perfect. *cough cough* wish fulfillment hello.
VH: I am so not convinced.
Me: There’s this whole repetition thing, too. I cannot believe how all the characters of his books look alike. How come it works every SINGLE time? How many books are out there, now? 4? 5? More, surely. It’s always the SAME THING. Geeky and nerdy narrator, geekier and nerdier sidekick, mysterious but unbelievable girl, random plot that doesn’t even make sense, road trip. Come the fuck on. You know what? The fact that people aren’t getting tired of him and his stupid same characters is the real question.
VH: But this book is unique. The way it deals with cancer and death… It’s so beautiful. You cannot possibly say it isn’t.
Me: That’s what disturbed me the most. Look. What I want to say is, not every death is glorious. Not every death is epic and not every death will glow like a star in the eternal twilight sky. Most of the time, deaths are random, plain, and the world is cold and uncaring, and that’s how it is. And that’s what’s terrible. You don’t need to be a hero, you don’t need to defy death the way Augustus pretends to, you don’t need to lose yourself in unbelievable speeches to have people cry over your death. The book is just TOO much.
VH: You know, about them being unbelievable when they talk? You seem to forget something. Augustus and Hazel ARE different. They’re unique, so they talk different. That’s what it’s all about.
Me: They’re not different, they don’t exist. They can’t exist. Honestly? I don’t think this was a good tribute to the kids who are really sick. Because no one talks like that, NO ONE, and I feel like now there’s this messed-up hierarchy between the sick kids who are sort of smart ass and those who aren’t. And I refuse that. I can’t accept that. Being ironic, jaded, detached and all metaphorical over the disease is a luxury that genuinely sick teenagers cannot afford. So fuck this. And I’d rather kneel before a kid who has cancer and who doesn’t know what a metaphor is than shed a tear over one of Augustus’s stupid monologues.
VH: You liar, I know you cried while you read the book. You were a sobbing mess.
Me: I wasn’t. I was a sobbing mess at the end of Before I Die. And oh my God, I couldn’t even speak after I finished A Monster Calls because I was crying so hard. Me and Earl and the Dying Girl had me in tears, too. These are all gorgeous books that deal with cancer. And I cried like a bitch every single time, and they broke my heart. But this? I didn’t cry.
VH: You did, and you know it. Especially at THIS special moment.
Me: *looks away* I don’t know what you’re talking about.
VH : You cried when Hazel asked her mom if she would still be a mom after her death.
Me: Fine, okay. I cried. I know. Okay? I know. But look. That’s precisely the point. That’s what I call emotional blackmail. Because I DARE YOU not to cry over that discussion. Because it’s a universal fear! Whether you’re a mom, or a daughter, or both, if you have a sister even, you must have thought about that already and told yourself : Okay, if I die, or if she dies. Who will I be? If my sister dies and I’m asked whether I have a sibling, what should I say? Am I still a sister because she existed, once? Or if you have a child, and then one day your baby dies. What happens then? Are you still a parent? Are you still a parent because once, you used to be a parent, and because there’s a room upstairs that used to be your child’s? I dare you to think about it and not end up crying. I took it as a betrayal from John Green because I feel like he didn’t play fair. OF COURSE talking about a child’s death in this peculiar way will make the reader cry! But it’s so easy. It doesn’t require any talent. Just ask anyone to talk about that and they’ll be tearing up in 5 seconds! Do you understand what I’m trying to say? I feel like he was like, « I’m gonna make them cry. » and all the while I was reading I swear I could hear him: « ARE YOU SAD YET? ARE YOU HEARTBROKEN YET? DO YOU SEE HOW INCREDIBLY UPSETTING MY STORY IS? I KNOW, RIGHT. I AMAZE MYSELF SOMETIMES. »
VH: But–
Me: No, look. Writing like that, it’s not incredible, it’s not magical and it’s not valuable. It’s playing with people’s weaknesses. It’s manipulating people into crying. And I can’t respect him with that the way I respect people who manage to make me cry without using such poor plot devices. Like in, Me and Earl and The Dying Girl. There’s a cancer book that really took me by surprise. Because, Rachel, the sick girl, is everything but admirable. She’s young, a bit shallow, nice, shy, plain, normal, really. And her neighbor who befriends her, he doesn’t fall in love with her. And her death won’t be remembered like something that scarred humanity, because it didn’t. Ultimately, it didn’t even matter at all. And I could relate more easily to that, to the meaningless dimension of her death, to the emptiness of it all, more than I could ever relate to the ridiculous speeches of Augustus (and Hazel’s too, for that matter). Because you know what bothered me, too? They’re indistinct.
VH: That’s because they’re soul mates. That’s the whole point of the book. They found themselves in each other.
Me: It doesn’t work to say they’re soul mates. Look, I read the book almost a year ago, I think. And this:
“I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”
Me: This is beautiful, granted. It’s also unrealistic that a teenager would ever say that, let alone improvize it, but whatever, it’s pretty. But the thing is, I am completely unable to say whether it’s Augustus or Hazel who says that. I don’t know. I have no idea. I try to recognize the style, but I can’t tell, BECAUSE THEY TALK EXACTLY THE SAME.
VH: …
Me: So yeah. I didn’t love the book, and I am not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things; I didn’t love the book, and I know this review might be just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed to another John Green book about an unbelievable loser and his even more loser sidekick loving an unbelievable teenage girl, and that there will come a day when maybe he will change his writing formula, and maybe that’ll come when the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, but then it’ll be too late, so who cares? I didn’t love this book.
VH: *suspiciously silent*
Me: Are we done?
VH: FINE. Ugh. Okay. *Waves white flag* I surrender.
Me: Yes! *clicks « save review »*
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