I HATE this book Absolutely hate it Not just from the bottom of my heart which would literally mean my ventricles and so no but with my whole heart I hate it hate it hate it I hate the fact t
I HATE this book. Absolutely hate it. Not just from the bottom of my heart (which would literally mean my ventricles, and so, no) but with my whole heart. I hate it, hate it, hate it.I hate the fact that it made me laugh, so hard! I hate the fact that it made me smile, so much!I hate the fact that it made me chuckle, so profusely!I hate the fact that it gifted me with so much Laughter, Smiles and Chuckles when I was expecting to come face to face with tragedy at any moment....it changed my expectations, made me believe in Something which did not happen...or maybe did happen.I hate the fact that while Hazel Grace fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once, I just fell...no warning, no time to process the myriad emotions coursing through me, nope, nothing, just a huge endless void-filled fall and then a sudden crash that took my breath away, like literally...I hate the fact that I fell in love with this bound-to-end-in-oblivion, bound-to-end-in-disaster boy who stared with blue blue eyes and put the killing thing right between his teeth, but never gave it the power to do its killing. (Putting a cigarette right between your teeth and never lighting it, yes, that's Augustus Waters for you, people, a guy huge on metaphors and symbolism...that hopeless boy).I hate the fact that when I least expected it, the story, the words just grabbed me and pulled me in so deep that even the thought of ever resurfacing never entered my mind.I hate that the fact that right in the middle of my dance in the rain of laughter, dry wit, and humour without any warning, without any lightning as it's precedent, this thunder would stun me, startle me, wipe the smile right off my face, and sober me up, wake me up from the intoxication of the very real yet false jocularity spun by them, a humour which was nothing but human tragedy waiting-to-happen-and-had-already-happened in disguise and then push me back into that rain to dance again.I hate the fact that I'm not making my much sense right now....that right now my thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations...And yes, all the hate above is a metaphor, a symbolic word for love... weird, right? But right now I can't bring myself to say that I love this book....I don't, I don't, I don't (yes, I do, I do, I do...)So, *deep breath*, it's a story of a girl named Hazel Grace Lancaster, a girl diagnosed with thyroid cancer at the age of 13 who's still alive at 16 thanks to a miracle drug which didn't work it's miracle in about 70% of the people but it did work in her. So, even though her lungs suck at being lungs, she's still alive and well not kicking, but breathing, with difficulty (because remember her lungs suck at being lungs), but breathing nonetheless. She's been nothing but a terminal case ever since her diagnosis. The doctors are simply finding ways of keeping her alive rather than removing the cancer ridden lungs and replacing it with a new one, because let's face it, her chances of surviving such an operation are like next to nothing and why waste a good pair of lungs on a given, bound-to-fail body? So, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis.Enter Augustus Waters. He's 17, gorgeous, in remission, and very frankly and much to her surprise interested in her. It's a match made in Cancer Kid Support Group, in the Literal Heart of Jesus (you'll know what that means when you read the book...you'll laugh, trust me, you will). He is a tenured professor in the Department of Slightly Crooked Smiles with a dual appointment in the Department of Having a Voice That Made My Skin Feel More Like Skin. He's the unexpected, hot, gorgeous twist in her story...a story which is about to be completely rewritten...Their story begins with a staring contest...he stares at her...So she stares back...because let's face it...(Spoiler Alert: She wins.)And it progresses into something brilliant, something as bright as the stars, into Something with a capital S....I hate this book. (This needs indefinite repetitions, I hate it).I hate the fact that I fell in love with their always. "Okay"I hate the fact that Hazel Grace took the words right out of my mouth when she said what she said about being a vegetarian..."I want to minimise the number of deaths I am responsible for," and about not knowing what's cool..."I take a lot of pride in not knowing what's cool."I hate the fact that I fell in love with this blue-eyed boy who drove horrifically and his cheesy and yet very endearing attempts to be Prince Charming....(but more so with him...the surprised, excited and innocent side of him..)"May I see you again?" he asked. There was an endearing nervousness in his voice.I smiled. "Sure.""Tomorrow?" he asked."Patience, grasshopper," I counseled. "You don't want to seem overeager.""Right, that's why I said tomorrow," he said. "I want to see you again tonight. But I'm willing to wait all night and much of tomorrow."I hate the fact that Hazel Grace felt like a grenade and all she wanted to do was minimise the casualities when (not if but when) she blew up...I hate the fact that I felt sorry for a lonely swing set...a Desperately Lonely Swing Set Which Needed a Loving Home...or maybe it was simply a Lonely, Vaguely Pedophilic Swing Set Which Sought the Butts of Children...and the fact that I absolutely love this sentence....The Lonely Swing Set...or maybe Just Vaguely Pedophilic...And even though I fell in love the way you fall from a cliff or a building, (don't really know how that feels..since I've never done that)..I hate the way she fell in love...I hate this kiss....because for who so firm that cannot be seduced?And then we were kissing. My hand let go of the oxygen cart and I reached up for his neck, and he pulled me up by my waist onto my tiptoes. As his parted lips met mine, I started to feel breathless in a new and fascinating way. The space around us evaporated, and for a weird moment I really liked my body; this cancer-ruined thing I'd spent years dragging around suddenly seemed worth the struggle, worth the chest tubes and the PICC lines and the ceaseless bodily betrayal of the tumors.I hate the love letter she wrote him...(Spoiler Alert: It's a Venn diagram love letter.)I hate the fact that she did not agree with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs (in which Abraham Maslow, an American psychologist, claimed that certain needs must be met before you can even have other kinds of needs.) Something like this...Unless and until your needs of the previous level have been fulfilled, you don't even think about the needs of the next level. Of course, like all psychological theories this one too cannot be generalized or accepted universally. Because if there is one law in psychology then it is that there is no law in psychology, there is no given universal laws for human behaviour or thoughts or anything. Every theory has it's use and flaws, applicable to some while not applicable to others. And this one is not applicable in this situation. Nope, not at all. I hate the words, the word play in this book...a quantum entanglement of tubes and bodies....triumphantly digitized contemporaneity....I hate the fact that it made me laugh so much, smile a lot, fall in love so hard only to exact revenge later on for giving in to the false security of humour and love by making me cry....oh god, cry so much....so much...Because that's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt.I get it...totally get it...I hate the fact that I ever read this sentence..."I lit up like a Christmas tree, Hazel Grace...". I hate it, I really hate it (forget metaphorical resonances, forget symbolism, I actually hate it).I hate the fact that it made me cry so much that the lovers of-god-knows-which-century entwined on my pillowcase were drenched in the torrent of my tears and were probably ruing the fact that there was no umbrella during their time.I hate the fact that I stayed up whole night reading this book, half of the night crying, and even after finishing it I couldn't go to sleep, so the rest of the dawn just pacing in my room with all these haphazard, desultory stars jumping around in my mind finding absolutely no avenue to become constellations.....and my eyes puffy (Note to self: Do not stay up all night or add crying to it if you do to avoid puffy eyes.)Why do I do this to myself??And I absolutely hate this...I hate that this story is stunningly overwhelming, insightful, irreverent, raw and devastating...and to quote Markus Zusak, it's the kind of story reading which "You laugh, you cry and then you come back for more."Some infinities are bigger than other infinities......I'm grateful for having known this little infinity...grateful for this epic love story of two star crossed lovers....[image error]I like my choices. I hope you like yours.And by hate you know I meant love, right?I love this book. Right now, my thoughts are too jumbled up...Good The Fault in Our Stars Creat John Green Viral Books Librarian note an alternate cover for this edition can be found here.Despite the tumor shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel s story is about to be completely rLibrarian note an alternate cover for this edition can be found here.Despite the tumor shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel s story is about to be completely rewritten.Insightful, bold, irreverent, and raw, The Fault in Our Stars is award winning author John Green s most ambitious and heartbreaking work yet, brilliantly exploring the funny, thrilling, and tragic business of being alive and in love.. Librarian Note There is than one author in the database with this name.John Green s first novel, Looking for Alaska, won the 2006 Michael L Printz Award presented by the American Library Association His second novel, An Abundance of Katherines, was a 2007 Michael L Printz Award Honor Book and a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize His next novel, Paper Towns, is a New York Times bestseller and won the Edgar Allen Poe Award for Best YA Mystery In January 2012, his most recent novel, The Fault in Our Stars, was met with wide critical acclaim, unprecedented in Green s career The praise included rave reviews in Time Magazine and The New York Times, on NPR, and from award winning author Markus Zusak The book also topped the New York Times Children s Paperback Bestseller list for several weeks Green has also coauthored a book with David Levithan called Will Grayson, Will Grayson, published in 2010 The film rights for all his books, with the exception of Will Grayson Will Grayson, have been optioned to major Hollywood Studios.In 2007, John and his brother Hank were the hosts of a popular internet blog, Brotherhood 2.0, where they discussed their lives, books and current events every day for a year except for weekends and holidays They still keep a video blog, now called The Vlog Brothers, which can be found on the Nerdfighters website, or a direct link here.. Good Books The Fault in Our Stars EMOTIONAL BLACKMAIL.You will cry, because this is VERY sad.So a discussion occurred in my head after I rated the book. (view spoiler)[A voice in my head: Come on. You can't post that on Goodreads. 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"* (hide spoiler)]["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
The Fault in Our Stars Jun , Directed by Josh Boone With Shailene Woodley, Ansel Elgort, Nat Wolff, Laura Dern Two teenage cancer patients begin a life affirming journey to visit a reclusive author in Amsterdam. The Fault in Our Stars film The Fault in Our Stars The Fault in Our Stars Green The Fault in Our Stars is a love story, one of the most genuine and moving ones in recent American fiction, but it s also an existential tragedy of tremendous intelligence and courage and sadness Lev Grossman, TIME Magazine The greatest romance story of this decade. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green The Fault in Our Stars, John Green The Fault in Our Stars is the sixth novel by author John Green, published in January The title is inspired by Act , Scene of Shakespeare s play Julius Caesar, in which the nobleman Cassius says to Brutus The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.