Thursday, March 14, 2013

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

Have I ever mentioned that I never cry in books?  I never cry in books.  At least never for real. I made myself cry at the end of A Severe Mercy, but it was out of obligation.

At first I thought that I might have to dislike this book on principle.  The main girl was so quirky and well-read and witty that I began to believe I would have to dismiss her as an unrealistic character.  But then I got further in and realized that though she is wittier than I will probably ever be, she dealt with her stuff the way I would. And the problems she had were ones that would bother me. And I began to think she was a real person.  And I would call that successful writing.

I cried in this book.  I sobbed. Twice.  It could be that I have a boyfriend I like rather a lot now, and the idea of death and all that has a new significance.  But either way, I wept like a baby.

Read it and weep.

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