Let’s get one thing straight: I have absolutely no tear ducts. So you can imagine my surprise when I started balling my eyes at like, 3:45 in the morning.
I decided to reread this because I haven’t read any John Green novels in so long. I also wanted to see if I would have the same reaction (balling my eyes out) four years later as 13-year-old me.
The Fault in Our Stars is a famous novel. I knew exactly what had happened before I had even read the book, which is a little sad now that I think about it, because that means I didn’t even get the full ✨experience✨. Still, I cried my eyes out the first time I read. And guess what? Four years later, I’m still sobbing like a bitch.
*sighs*
What do I say? This book was excellent. Hazel’s voice, or I guess I should say John Green’s voice, is so fucking pure and funny and authentic and beautiful and awkward and downright weird and so lovable and endearing. It was wonderful reading this again.
I think so many people resonate with this novel, not because of the destruction that cancer leaves behind, but because the words and thoughts and emotions resonate so deeply with us. We can’t help but understand the pain of Hazel and Augustus, not being able to love the one you love, and the pain of not fully living because of a circumstance thrust upon you.
John Green does such a beautiful job portraying life and sadness and love and happiness and how, really, nothing gold can stay. But we have to make the most of what we have. We, as humans, should stop trying to leave our mark on the world; we have to try being more like Hazel. We have to tread lightly upon the earth. Our goal is not to touch the hearts of many, but to deeply touch the hearts of few.
The pain was excruciating as I read this because you get to know Augustus as if he is your own friend. He is such a wonderful character because we have all met one. We all have Augustus’ of our own, that one person who makes everyone laugh, who is so wonderful and beautiful and brilliant and you can’t seem to get enough of them. You can’t imagine the world without them. That world is useless, incomplete.
A lot of people really like to bullshit this book and say how they've "grown out of" novels like this. I'm sorry, didn't ask. I fucking hate when people do that. No one asked you to shed light on a book that will stay wonderful for the next five centuries. This book is perfection, I will never get over it, and neither should you.
I’m glad I decided to reread this. My 13-year-old self could not understand the deeper message John Green conveyed. But I understand now. The meaning of life, or at least John Green’s perception of the meaning, is hidden between the folds of these pages.