The Fault in Our Stars

“But it’s not a cancer book, because cancer books suck. Like, in cancer books, the cancer person  starts a charity that raises money to fight cancer, right? And this commitment to charity reminds the cancer person of the essential goodness of humanity and makes him/her feel loved and encouraged because s/he will leave a cancer-curing legacy. But in [An Imperial Affliction], Anna decides that being a person with cancer who starts a cancer charity is a bit narcissistic, so she starts a charity called The Anna Foundation for People with Cancer Who Want to Cure Cholera.”

-John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

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The above quote occurs early in the fourth chapter of the young adult novel The Fault in Our Stars and is a good indication of how the rest of the book will go. The narrator is Hazel, a teenaged girl who has had cancer for three years. She carries an oxygen tank everywhere she goes, she attends a Support Group that seems highly unhelpful, she loves her parents, she reads poetry from Eliot and Ginsberg, and she meets (early in the novel, at the previously mentioned unhelpful Support Group) a cancer survivor named Augustus Waters, with whom she eventually falls in love.

This, too, is not your typical cancer book. Throw every comparison to A Walk to Remember or Lurlene McDaniel out of the window. Instead, think of the Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank. In fact, John Green sends Hazel and Augustus to Amsterdam, where they have an incredible moment in the Anne Frank Museum, and I was reminded of why I loved and lamented Frank’s diary so much: I knew how the book was going to end. I got to know the characters, but I, the reader, understood that I could not be with the characters for long, even within the pages of the novel.

The beautiful thing about this book is that you know tragedy will occur. Hazel is very grounded, very accepting of the fact that she has a terminal cancer. She knows there is no cure; she knows the drugs she’s taking are only prolonging her life, not ending the cancer. She can, however, still lament the brevity of life. She can seeks to understand life in the short time she has.

Cancer is not portrayed as romantic, as in other novels. It is heartbreaking and devastating in so many ways. Hazel and Gus, and I and everyone else who’s read this, understand that.

* * *

In spite of the sadness, this book is funny and alive. The dialogue is fabulous–Hazel and Gus are quirky and intelligent, and their conversations often reminded me of conversations I’ve had with my best friend.

Green is also great at metafiction–reminding the reader that this is a novel, not reality. In the book, Hazel’s favorite novel is An Imperial Affliction, which Gus also reads. This novel drives a lot of the plot of the story as Gus chooses to use a “Wish” from a nonprofit organization to take Hazel to Amsterdam to meet the author of the novel. Hazel, in all her rereadings of the book, has hoped to discern what happens to the character after the book’s abrupt end. When she finally meets the author–who is a total jerk (to be nice)–he explains:

“But to be perfectly frank, this childish idea that the author of a novel has some special insight into the characters in the novel…it’s ridiculous. That novel was composed of scratches on a page, dear. The characters inhabiting it have no life outside of those scratches. What happened to them? They all ceased to exist the moment the novel ended.”

This tirade, combined with Green’s author’s note that the novel is a work of fiction, serve as a reminder of the power of a story: we can care so much about characters, be driven to powerful emotion, travel around the world just to discover more of the story.

This reminder made it easier on me to finish the book. I don’t remember the last time I cried so much while reading a book. And while I lamented losing characters who had become dear to me, I also remembered that their stories actually did end when I turned the last page, and I remembered that my life continues beyond the close of the book. And while I continue to live, I remember what I’ve learned from stories: that life and love matter, even when they’re oh-so-difficult.

Lost and Found, Above and Below

Beginning in August, I’ll be starting the first semester of my thesis writing to finish my Master’s degree. I’ve decided to study British dystopian fiction, analyzing how language is used to shape identity. My theory is that dystopian fiction is often driven by the intense fear of losing one’s own individual identity and the loss of identity on a global scale. I had a meeting a few weeks ago with the professor who has agreed to advise my thesis. Dr. Stuart has a strong interest in science fiction, too (she even occasionally teaches a class in British science fiction!), and she gave me some book recommendations. One of which was Neil Gaiman’s novel Neverwhere.

Now, just for clarity, I’ll go ahead and preface this blog by stating that I won’t be using Neverwhere as one of the primary texts for my thesis. While language and identity certainly play roles in the novel, this work should be classified as fantasy, but not actually dystopian. Basically, I’m interested in how dystopian writers imagine the future of a society that exists now; I’m interested in works of literature that can show a worst-case scenario of continuing culture. Books like Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, which portrays life after an apocalyptic disaster, and Alan Moore’s V for Vendetta, which shows the results of government gone horribly awry (and a text that I plan to use for my thesis) are dystopic because of these imagined futures.

NOTE: There are spoilers in this post. If you don’t want to know how the books ends, stop reading.

Gaiman’s novel is the story of two Londons that exist simultaneously. London Above, which is the world in which the protagonist Richard Mayhew initially lives, is the London that most of humanity knows–all the familiar landmarks; people working jobs, going to the pub, and living in flats; etc. London Below is the seedy underbelly–literally. If one falls through the cracks (like the gap in the tube station), one lands in London Below, inhabited by such characters as rat-speakers (who speak for the rats in London Below), assassins like the dreadful (and morbidly amusing) Misters Croup and Vandemar, and the fascinating teenage girl named Door, whom Richard actually encounters in London Above and attempts to save. Because of the setting–a contemporary, although fantastic setting–I won’t be able to use this for my theory about dystopian literature. However, I’ll probably be brilliant and throw in a footnote or two to compare it to other novels that I’ve read. :)

Mostly, I’m fascinated by Richard’s character in the novel. In London Above, Richard has a completely average life. He works an office job, is engaged to a woman with whom he doesn’t really have much in common, and lives a life that is just ordinary. When he meets Door and saves her, he is inadvertently brought into the world of London Below, and it is there that he finds his true identity. The book, though an amazing exploration of the two Londons, is really Richard’s rite-of-passage. He’s on a quest, he saves a lady, and he earns the title of Warrior by the end of the novel. Then, when he returns to London Above, he finds that the life he once lived is not enough for him. His real identity lies below.

I was about halfway through this novel before I realized that Neverwhere was originally a BBC miniseries back in 1996 before Gaiman adapted it as a novel. There’s a chance that, if I can find the episodes online, I’ll be spending some of my glorious week off this week watching the 6 episodes.

A Bibliophile’s Lament

Okay, I get that e-readers have enormous potential and are very popular right now. I have friends who have tried to convince me to buy a Kindle, and all along, I’ve declared that e-readers just aren’t for me. I love holding a book in my hand; I love browsing shelves of books–new or used, library or bookstore; I love the smell and feel of old books and discovering a really pretty copy of a favorite book on a used bookstore shelf. However, there’s one aspect of book-reading that I never even considered that I would miss with an e-reader: page numbers.

I don’t own an e-reader yet. But for simplicity’s sake (and cost-effectiveness), I downloaded the free Kindle application for my MacBook. The book I’m reading for class this week, called The Hidden Hand by E.D.E.N. Southworth, apparently only exists in current print in one edition that costs $26. Rather than buying a copy through the university bookstore, I decided to download the free copy for Amazon’s Kindle. Though it’s a bit inconvenient to have to read off my computer screen, that’s preferable to paying all that money for a book I’ll probably only read once anyway.

Still, I lament the loss of page numbers. In digital form, I have to measure my reading progress by a bar on the bottom of the screen, not the thickness of the pages still left. I also find that I like to know how many pages are in a chapter before I commit to reading it. It’s not as much fun push a button on my keyboard as it is to flip the pages in a book.

I really, really, really love books. And while it’s entirely plausible that I will one day in the relatively near future own an e-reader for the simplicity and convenience, I also know that I’ll never, ever give up my book-owning fanaticism. Or my love of page numbers.

December Books

77. The Proposal, Lori Wick.

78. The Compound, S. A. Bodeen. For my trip home for Christmas, I decided to explore the world of books on CD, and this one’s title and premise appealed to me. It’s quite good, and I keep finding myself wondering how I would have liked it if I’d read the words. As involved as the story is, I feel like I wouldn’t have been able to put it down had it been in book form. And while I hesitated to ever listen to a book on CD because I love actual books so much, I think this will be a genre I explore for all the driving back and forth to school that I do.

79. Six Rules of Maybe, Deb Caletti.

So here we are at the end (or, well, the beginning of a new year and a new challenge). I fell 21 books shy of my goal for 100 previously unread books. However, when I challenged myself, I didn’t know what the following year would hold, and I’m pleased to see how far I did get towards my goal. Perhaps next year’s challenge will be more conservative. We shall see.

November Books

Previously unread books for November:

75. Monsters of Men, Patrick Ness. The final book in the Chaos Walking trilogy, some of the best books I’ve ever read.

76. Literary Criticism: An Introduction to Theory and Practice, 4th ed., Charles E. Bressler. One of my textbooks for Lit Theory.

So with one more month left in the year, I have 24 books to read to reach my goal. Confession: it probably won’t happen. I read no previously unread books in October (in fact, I only read two total–re-reads of the first 2 books in the Chaos Walking trilogy). Of course, all my classes–both teaching and taking–end within the next two weeks, but then I’ll be gearing up for Christmas and then a pretty epic trip to Haiti, so who knows how much reading I’ll get in? Alas, at least my reading is interrupted by important life-things. I can deal with that.

September Books

Previously unread books:

66. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley. My literary theory class is reading this book to analyze.

67. Distant Waves: A Novel of the Titanic, Suzanne Weyn. She’s a liar. The Titanic doesn’t enter the story until around page 200, and more time is spent on discussing the main character’s sister’s wedding that’s going to take place on board. The collision with the iceberg and the sinking are abbreviated into about two pages. Really. The book is much more about the spiritualism movement and Nikola Tesla than the Titanic. But I’m sure more people will read it (as I did) if it didn’t say Distant Waves: A Novel of an Intriguing, but Crazy Inventor and Even Crazier “Mediums” with Some Time Travel Thrown in for Good Measure– right?

68. Keep Out, Claudia, Ann M. Martin (BSC #56). I found some BSC books that I didn’t own at Mr. K’s! I have a weakness for the books I loved when I was little.

69. Claudia Kishi, Live from WSTO!, Ann M. Martin (BSC #85)

70. Ralph S. Mouse, Beverly Cleary. Somehow, I never actually read all of this book. I’ve read sections of it (I know because certain scenes seemed familiar), which I’m sure I probably read during snack time at the after-school program that I volunteered at during college. But the whole middle of the book, when Ralph stays at school and the class builds a maze…I have no recollection of that part of the story at all. So it’s going on the previously unread  list.

71. My Beautiful Disaster, Michelle Buckman. The companion novel to Maggie Come Lately, which I read last month. Not bad.

72. The Lonely Hearts Club, Elizabeth Eulberg. The main character’s name is Penny Lane Bloom, and her parents are huge Beatles fans. After getting fed up with the boys that she meets, she decides to start the Lonely Hearts Club. Soon, many other girls in her high school join because they’re fed up with boys, too. But of course, once Penny Lane swears off boys, she meets one who’s actually worth dating. I like the change Penny and the others make in the book–they turn from being girls who are defined by the guys in their lives to being girls who can date but not give up their close friendships. And of course, the book is chock full of Beatles trivia, lyrics, and other references, so I loved it. :)

73. Thirteen Reasons Why, Jay Asher. The main character receives a package in the mail containing tapes recorded by his crush Hannah, who had committed suicide two weeks before. On the tapes, she explains every event that took place leading up to her decision. It seems that her goal was to either make her classmates feel incredibly guilty for not recognizing the signs or to encourage them to notice the signs of suicide in others (as the main character does in the end). Maybe I’m finally too far removed from the high school experience, but I didn’t relate enough to Hannah’s character. She seems to want to blame everyone else for not recognizing her subtle cries for help; however, at so many points in the narrative, she could have prevented some of the actions that led to her decision. She could have asked for help. I guess that this book does do a good job of revealing a high schooler’s narcissistic mindset. She’s so wrapped up in how cruel everyone around her is that she sometimes fails to notice others’ pain as well.

74. God is in the Pancakes, Robin Epstein. I really enjoyed this book. The main character Grace is a fifteen-year-old who works at a nursing home and becomes friends with an old man who has Lou Gehrig’s disease. When he asks her to help him die to escape the pain, she has to deal with the ramifications of just his asking the question. At the same time, her parents have recently divorced, her sister is dating a jerk, and Grace won’t admit that she’s interested in her best friend Eric. The great thing about this book is that Grace deals with typical high school drama as well as the heavy burden of losing a friend that she cares for.

Okay, so 3 months to go to the end of the year, and 26 more books to read. I’m not entirely sure I’ll make it all the way to 100, but I’ll keep going.

Win a Nook (and support my friend)!

First of all, how awesome is it that my friend Mandy Goff has her first book coming out in February?!? It’s historical romance, and it’s going to be great (I’ve read an early draft–I know!).

As part of promoting her book, she’s giving away a Nook and a $50 Barnes & Noble gift card!

You can also pre-order her book on Amazon or Barnes & Noble, which you should. If you like historical romance. Or have a mother who does (and what mother doesn’t?).

August Books

Previously unread books this month. Only 3. Hmmm. I think that’s because I’ve been re-reading more books lately than I was earlier in the year. I have 35 more to go to reach my goal, with 4 months left. It’s possible, so we’ll see. Meanwhile, here’s my August list:

63. Catching Fire, Suzanne Collins. The second book in the Hunger Games trilogy. Even better than the first, if that’s at all possible.

64. Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins. The final book in the trilogy. It’s action-packed, and the conflict is resolved, but I still believe Catching Fire is the best of the series. Hopefully, soon, I’ll post a review.

65. Maggie Come Lately, Michelle Buckman. A young adult novel by a Christian writer. Sometimes, Buckman tries a little too hard to write like a 16-year-old, and it comes off as forced and unnatural. Other times, she tries to hard to make sure the reader gets the moral and spiritual point she is trying to make. But all in all, this book was actually pretty decent.

July Books

Previously unread books (I have 38 left to read my goal of 100 by the end of the year):

57. Fever Dream, Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child. I’ve been reading Preston and Child’s books for years now. They write suspense/mystery books, my favorite of which feature an FBI investigator named Aloysius Pendergast, who is brilliant and observant–sort of a modern-day Sherlock Holmes. While I enjoyed reading this, for the first time, I started to realize how implausible these stories are. Too many coincidences and connections, and Pendergast just knows too much to be believable sometimes. It was a good story, but not my favorite of the Preston & Child collaborations.

58. Life As We Knew It, Susan Beth Pfeffer. The first in a young adult dystopian series that takes place after an asteroid hits the moon, knocking it closer to Earth and causing all sorts of natural disasters and destruction.

59. The Dead & the Gone, Susan Beth Pfeffer. The companion novel to Life As We Knew It. This book takes place in New York City during the same time frame as the first book and follows seventeen-year-old Alex Morales as he and his younger sisters fight to survive in a dying city. This book is even darker and more disturbing than the first, but it’s also very good.

60. This World We Live In, Susan Beth Pfeffer. The last book in the trilogy. Told through Miranda’s diary once more. When her father, stepmother, and new baby brother show up, they arrive with 3 strangers, including Alex and his sister Julie. It’s been a year since the moon was hit by the asteroid, and with ten people now sharing the same space, they’re once again struggling to find food and to survive. This book is just as dark and disturbing as the second, and the conclusion is…well, I won’t spoil it.

61. Percy Jackson and the Olympians Book 1: The Lightning Thief, Rick Riordan.

62. The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins. I cannot wait to read the second book, which is already out, and the finale to the trilogy, which is released in late August. This book was incredible!

June Books

I’m halfway through the year, and over halfway through my goal: only 44 more previously unread books to read by December 31!

53. Cane, Jean Toomer. Fortunately, this book is short. Otherwise, I might not have finished it. It definitely belongs in the modernist era of American lit. The book is composed of vignettes, poems, and a drama. Also, curved lines that mean…something. I’m not really sure. I actually enjoyed parts 1 & 2, but part 3 made my head hurt so badly and also sort of ruined the whole thing for me.

54. Beloved, Toni Morrison. The hardest book I’ve ever had to read in my life.

55. Two-Way Street, Lauren Barnholdt. Young adult lit. My brain needed a break.

56. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Diaz. An exceptional piece of literature. The more I think about it, the more I love it.

Only 4 previously unread books this month (actually, I think only 4 total…odd). Summer school took up a lot of time. But…that’s finished and once I get this move out of the way, I’ll spend the next few weeks reading voraciously!