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Noteworthy

There Are No Bad Guys

September 29, 2013

I had to read it twice. I wasn’t able to feel the emotion a lot of people were having the first time I got my hands on it — it’s about kids who have terminal diseases (cancer, deadly cancer) — and for that I felt guilty. I’ve left it unread on my shelf for a few months because you know I’m the type who will always save the best for last. I thought it’s one of the best due to the fuss on social networking sites (when everyone suddenly became bookworms, see what I did there) plus the author is one of those whom I admire so why not. I introduced John Green to my library through Alaska Young, and I wasn’t disappointed, I loved it — which is why the expectations I had for The Fault In Our Stars were a little bit high. I found it really interesting, (even during the first time I was reading it) it’s just that, I never had a heightened emotionality at the time.

Photo from Google

the fault

A few weeks ago I decided to open it again, just for the sake of recall and whatnot, and how it surprised me when I found myself actually going teary-eyed.

My sixteen year old self went back to my being at the first “Okay-okay” moment, and I’m not being a bandwagonner here or whatever but I seriously can relate. It’s that I-really-mean-something-else-but-I-can’t-say-it-I-don’t-know-why feeling and it’s one of the sweetest things ever. Like at least your assumptions have assumed basis.

I cannot blame Hazel for being head over heels with Augustus, I picture him as tall and lanky, and those descriptions sound very youthful to me. He’s fun to think about. On the other hand, to be fair with Hazel, she’s a strong kid and she’ll become a fierce woman I can tell. With her witty inputs (“Why eggs are called breakfast food” is my favorite), why do we even have to ask Gus why?

I might not have said it here yet but John Green has got to be one of my most favorite authors (if there are even others). His writing style don’t seem like writing to me, I mean it’s not the poetic -ieth/hath/thou type that can really be identified as literature-literature or whatever, like there’s a barrier and you gotta pass through it so you can understand. He’s awesome, he’s accommodating and open, he’s a counselor. He doesn’t put the title “author” in his head which is why he’s very relatable. I love him.

John knows there are different types of youth. I have read his other books and I must say he has covered all of us — our types — and he has touched me with every page. He’s cool and awesome, he knows what we do, what we feel, who we are.

It was magic: Hazel and Gus, Peter Van Houten, Amsterdam. The death suit and dress were subtly morbid to me, but I guess it’s that touch of balance between fantasy and reality. My emotions were on a full swing during the visit to Anne Frank’s house, when they had to climb the stairs and Hazel was gasping for air and Gus was cheering her up. It was very heartwarming and even more when they touched each other’s lips. I was happy for them.

Every I-thought-I-would-die moment made me feel so blessed and more than thankful than I already am. It’s such a slap in the face, realizing that I’m such a whiner when I complain about really shallow things while somewhere in the world, there is someone who is very grateful just at the sight of the morning sun.

I couldn’t fathom how Hazel was dealing with every single day that Gus was getting weaker and weaker. It’s so tragic, and I seriously couldn’t absorb that it was Gus, to think that among all of them he’s the most physically inclined. But I wonder how it would be like if it had been Hazel. Either way, it’s disheartening, and I wish it didn’t have to be that way. Hazel was so strong and I was feeling her pain, and Gus’ too. Not to mention their parents, who for sure were the ones trying so hard to bear it all. It’s just, so so so sad.

Reliving the emotions (the tears and all, world my lids transformed to waterfalls!) right now is real torture, I can’t even continue I wish it’s just John’s brilliant imagination but unfortunately it’s happening, it’s reality.

“Even cancer isn’t a bad guy really: Cancer just wants to be alive.”

The Fault In Our Stars, John Green

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