The Fault in Our Stars

I thought this was a science fiction book. I found it either as a best young adult books of 20xx or as something that was recommended for me. I knew two things: the best young adult books are sci-fi/fantasy and I read pretty much sci-fi/fantasy exclusively. Also, the title has the word “Stars” in it. Therefor it was completely logical for me to think that this was a sci-fi/fantasy book. I was wrong. If you're wondering if you should read this, keep that fact in mind.

This story is about two characters: Hazel and Gus. The rest are just window dressing and paper cut-outs. Hazel's parents were of paper cut-out variety, but there was just enough of them to be real people. Dad cries at everything; mom hovers over her dying daughter. If I had a kid with cancer, I could see myself acting like both of those at the same time. Gus's parents were less fleshed out, but I understand the reasons for that. Gus's parents are just window dressing, but I understand why within the story and why within Hazel's narration. I wish that Isaac had been fleshed out a bit more. His situation is tragic and the one that terrifies me when I think of “the worst thing that could happen.”

Hazel and Gus are kind of throwbacks to '90s teen television dramas in a way that is very nice. I love it when kids use words that I have to look up. They have very grown up conversations with each other and the people around them. They're very into introspection.

Spoiler
The wish fulfillment scene is one of the main reasons that I'm not particularly interested in meeting famous people (for varying definitions of “famous”). They are actual people and not in fact the idealized constructs that I have in my head based on my enjoyment of their work. Worse, they're artists.

My experience has been that many artists let every emotion they feel out at the moment they feel it, which is un-nerving and irritating to those of us that pick and choose their expressions to fit the moment. Or they're just weird in some sort of unidentifiable way. I once met an author that I admired, although not to the same level as Hazel or Gus. I was really looking forward to the event sure that he was going to be a great guy. His books were marred forever because he was such an asshole.He did the “real person artist” thing: he spoke his opinion forcefully and was short to the point of rudeness at times. To make matters worse he eventually went on to alienate a good number of his fans by shitting on the genre he was “famous” for. I still enjoy the books and continue buying them (he's been relegated to paperback status where he once occupied my coveted hardback list) but the phrase “what an asshole” now pops into my head frequently when I think about them. I, and they, would have been better off leaving the authors as figments of our imaginations rather than real people.