Book blurb as seen on Goodreads:
Before. Miles “Pudge” Halter’s whole existence has been one big nonevent, and his obsession with famous last words has only made him crave the “Great Perhaps” (François Rabelais, poet) even more. He heads off to the sometimes crazy, possibly unstable, and anything-but-boring world of Culver Creek Boarding School, and his life becomes the opposite of safe. Because down the hall is Alaska Young. The gorgeous, clever, funny, sexy, self-destructive, screwed-up, and utterly fascinating Alaska Young, who is an event unto herself. She pulls Pudge into her world, launches him into the Great Perhaps, and steals his heart.
After. Nothing is ever the same.
This is kind of like what I said when I critiqued Gone Girl: I’m a little late to the party. But nonetheless, I’ll have a go at it.
John Green creates characters who are not very realistic, but they are believable, and I suppose that’s all that matters. You’d have to search pretty hard in middle America to find teens who can quote obscure literature, but they’re out there. Most boys don’t have the ability to internally evaluate why their girlfriends are raging bitches and yet continue to see them, but Green’s character does. And you buy it. And that self-destructive teen you knew growing up probably doesn’t remind you that much of Alaska, but that’s because most of us never got to know them. I bet if I went back in time I could find some Alaskas walking the halls of my high school, and I might even like them, if I gave them a chance.
I think that’s what I love the most about Green’s books. The characters. People I may never meet in real life, but they seem as real to me as the neighbors down the street. I can see what they look like, feel how they feel and understand their motivations. Even when they do things that are stupid, Green makes it make sense. At least in the context of the character.
A fellow AWer recently called John Green’s books “pity porn”. I got a chuckle out of that. Because they kind of are. It doesn’t change that I absolutely adore the two I’ve read, but it does put it in perspective. There’s a reason I’ve only read two, and spread them out over a number of years. There’s only so much sadness I can take in one novel.
These stories are moving and profound, and they have the ability to put us into the lives of people we might never have really understood. TFIOS helps us to see people with terminal illness as people, not just a sad story. Looking for Alaska gave us a glimpse into the life of a troubled teen with questionable moral values, but we still felt sad at her tragedy. I think these novels give us another way to look at the world and life and people in it, without our context. Or maybe it’s in our context. Too often these people on the peripherals of our lives can be marginalized and compartmentalized so that they are no longer human beings. Green forces us to see them as human, giving us the context to care for them not as pity cases, or incidents to shake our heads in disapproval, but to mourn their loss and cry over their bad decisions.
I have felt changed after both of the John Green novels I have read. We talk about needing diversity in books, and I think Green is being diverse. Maybe not in the color of skin or religion or the things we usually think of as diversity, but we live in a world where diversity is rampant; in our personalities, our dreams, our experience. Every time I read a novel that opens me up to the experience of another person, I feel enriched. Which is what I feel diversity, in all its forms, can do for us.
My Review: 4 stars