The Fault in Our Stars
Pass the tissues please.
It’s not even that this book was terribly sad. Of course it is, it has its moments. It is, after all, a book about cancer patients – young cancer patients – and all that comes along with that death sentence of a diagnosis. The sad parts were, well, sad – the eulogies written before death, hopes shattered, dreams stripped away. But it wasn’t the desolation that got to me. The Sad wasn’t what consumed this book or consumed me.
The Bittersweet. That’s what got me.
It’s a book about cancer patients. And The Sad. The impact. The grenade. The loss. The way life goes on. The impact we want to make with our lives. The impact we never quite reach.
Ashes to ashes and whatnot.
The Bittersweet…it got me. Living in a moment you know can’t last. Living in a moment and knowing YOU can’t last. You won’t last. Your time is short and even shorter for some.
John Green attempts to make sense of the senseless with this little gem. That’s what it is, after all. Senseless. Seventeen year olds aren’t supposed to die from cancer. Seventeen years aren’t supposed to be cheated out of lives they’ll never get the chance to live.
Sad books aren’t normally something I reach for; my shelves aren’t lined with tragedy. Life is hard enough without immersing yourself in someone else’s personal hell for 318 pages, but I’m glad I did with this one.
That Bittersweet…the bittersweet made it worth it.
This John Green cat… he knows his way around language and has the ability to craft a sentence that makes me stop and read it again immediately because I want that little piece of beauty seared into my memory forever.
It got me.