Okay, so I should probably be crying by the end of the book, right? Or so I heard so many people say (that includes the few classmates who tole me so)....
I must be extremely unemotional or something. Because I was honestly extremely scared that I would bawl my eyes out when I was warned from experienced readers of the book to keep a few boxes of tissues next to me as I read.
But The Fault in Our Stars was majorly depressing when you know who died – I am not talking about Voldy here, people, but I refuse to give spoilers as much as possible, despite the fact that you may already know what happens in the end due to lots of people talking about the book (you know... the film? Coming sometime in the near future?) via the internet thingamajig (and yet we love it all the same).
So... I actually loved the characters – Hazel has a pretty sassy attitude. Add in Augustus Waters and it makes their conversations even more interesting. And then there's Peter Van Houten, who, based on John Green's description, reminds me of a certain character in The 13th Reality series by James Dashner.
What was the little dude's name again? Oh yes, Rutger.
Though Rutger was so much more pleasant than Peter Van Houten.
Essentially, The Fault in Our Stars is a beautifully written (and a bit heartbreaking) novel, even if you're not crying at the end. But the book didn't exactly land on my all time favorites list of books; maybe simply the reason is the very fact that it's easy to make me laugh but hard to make me cry.
Unless the book decides to smack me in the head one day unexpectedly.
I'm sure it will be very well noticeable if a book suddenly sprouts wings and flies out of the school library.
If that happens, pigs are flying, gorillas are singing opera and cows are dancing. Do realize I made up the last two from the top of my head...
Or maybe it's simply because, as mentioned near the beginning of the review, I'm simply just one of those unfortunate – or maybe lucky? – people who have a hard time being made to cry. Maybe I'll just suddenly burst into tears in a few hours after the book finally sinks its claws in and I'm just a late crier (doubtful... probably from allergies by then).
Though you might want to keep a box of tissues or two if you ever decide to read The Fault in Our Stars. Just in case you might actually need them.
Rating: 4.5 out of 5 OwlsSome infinities are bigger than other infinities.