I didn’t think there was a pretentious way to state your age until I read The Fault in Our Stars
Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, read the same book over and over, ate infrequently, and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death.
Here we go. I know I mentioned it before, but, “my seventeenth year”, and “presumably”? I don’t think most teenagers talk like this. At least, I don’t, unless I’m trying to show off my stellar vocabulary skills be pretentious.
And all this stuff about her mother “deciding” she was depressed. I mean, sometimes I like to spend a day in bed and read. There are some days I don’t eat much, and sometimes before I go to bed, I wonder what it’ll be like to be dead. But I’m pretty sure if I did all those things all the time every day, and I had cancer, it would be a reasonable assumption that I, may, in fact, be fucking depressed. I don’t think that I’d be particularly outraged if my parent/guardian decided that it might be time to get some help.
Hazel talks about how depression isn’t a side effect of cancer, it’s a side effect of dying, okay, semantics, but I get what she’s going for. And then:
Cancer is a side effect of dying. Almost everything is, really.
Um, what? I think you mean dying is a side effect of cancer. Cancer is the cause and dying is the effect, not the other way around. That’s like saying “having a cold is a side effect of sneezing and coughing”. Maybe she means that the end result of life is death, and therefore anything that happens in life is a side effect of dying. But that still doesn’t make sense. Death itself is a “side-effect” of living; and therefore anything that happens in life is a side effect of living.
Anyway. Hazel’s mother takes her to “Regular Doctor Jim” (why is “regular” capitalized, please?) Doctor Jim decides that Hazel is “veritably” depressed and needs to attend a “Support Group”. And what do you know, Hazel whines. The support group is depressing, it’s in a church shaped like a cross (apparently they’re where Jesus’ heart would have been), and Patrick is the “Leader”. Also he sucks and the lemonade and cookies he have suck and he had cancer and his cancer story sucks and he has no friends and no balls (literally and figuratively) and he sucks.
She explains how they introduce themselves, name, age, diagnosis etc. It’s weird because she says she’s called Hazel, is 16, and has thyroid cancer that moved to her lungs. But what I don’t get is that her mother introduced her to the support group in her “17th year”, so, unless she turned back time, or wanted to lie about her age, why would she say she was 16? Unless I’m missing something. If I am, please tell me. I probably wouldn’t have even noticed this if it wasn’t for that pretentious opening line.
She talks about her support group some more, and how Patrick sucks but he lets them talk about dying. But not too many people are dying so it doesn’t matter. Ergo he still sucks. And . . .
Like, I realize that this is irrational, but when they tell you that you have, say, a 20% chance of living five years, the math kicks in and you figure that’s one in five . . . so you look around and think, as any healthy person would: I gotta outlast four of these bastards.
First, the “like” and the “gotta”. Either you pick “I have a big vocabulary and talk a little strange” or you pick “teenager with teenager words”, John. You can’t have it both ways. Second, that’s not how probability works, Hazel, and I learned that in my first year in high-school. Just because you live longer than four people, that doesn’t mean that you’re any more likely not to die. So I’m not sure how you’re thinking here, but it’s definitely not right.
Whatever. The next person we’re introduced to is Isaac. He turns out to be an okay character, or so I’ve heard. I’m praying. Apparently he has eye cancer and he’s wicked skinny and has blond hair. He has one real eye and one fake eye that is “preternaturally” huge.
You know, I like to read, I like to write, I have sufficient vocabulary in my opinion. But I have no idea what “preternaturally” means. (It means exceeding what is natural, according to Google). Weird word choice aside, Hazel explains that she and Isaac have a very special relationship, wherein they communicate exclusively through sighs and microscopic head shakes. Good thing Hazel told us this because I’m hard of hearing and not the best at preparing slides. Hazel sums up her support group as “it blew” and basically hates it. As if I couldn’t already tell. What follows next is pretty quote-heavy, so hold on.
For some reason, John decides to go with a script-type format for this next section of dialogue between Hazel and her mom. I don’t really have much against it, but it’s definitely weird. It starts off with Hazel refusing to go to support group and her mom telling she has to go. Interesting. Then:
Me: “Please just let me watch America’s Next Top Model. It’s an activity.”
I will shamefully admit, I went through a phase when I was younger when I was quite like Hazel. It lasted only a few months, thankfully, but I remember trying to sound smart and using words like “preternaturally” and “presumably” and being “better” than everyone else. I also remember hating reality TV because I thought it was stupid. Though I’m out of that phase, and still think it’s a little silly, I’ll still sit down and watch Dance Moms or America’s Next Top Model for an hour of TV I don’t have to think about too much.
What I don’t get is John trying to make Hazel both a normal teenager and one that is special and different. I guess he wants to make her relatable, but it’s weird as hell alternating between “like, whatever, reality TV pwns all” and “preternaturally, presumably, I walked down the long, winding path of concrete”. It seems like John can’t make up his mind about what Hazel should be. It would be interesting to see Hazel go from being pretentious and then realizing that she really doesn’t matter and becoming more down-to-earth, rather than trying to balance out her “insightfulness” by having her watch reality TV and say “like”.
Anyway. Hazel’s mom says that TV is a “passivity”, and Hazel groans.
Mom: “Hazel, you’re a teenager. You’re not a little kid anymore. You need to make friends, get out of the house, and live your life.”
She has a point. So far, Hazel is pretty boring, her only defining traits being that she hates everything, watches ANTM, and has cancer. This would be fine, if John were going to change Hazel into someone who experiences life after realizing that her time is limited, but he doesn’t.
Me: “If you want me to be a teenager, don’t send me to Support Group. Buy me a fake ID so I can go to clubs, drink vodka, and take pot.”
Mom: “You don’t take pot, for starters.”
I think this is supposed to be funny, but it really just sounds like Hazel is a sheltered senior citizen and her mom is some weird hippy spouting off about how you smoke “pot” and “TV is a passivity”
Mom: “You’re going to Support Group.”
Me: “UGGGGGGGGGGGGG.”
Yes, 13 capital Gs. I counted, just for you. Anyway, Hazel goes to her support group because she wants to make her parents happy. She mentions again that she’s 16, which I’m still confused about. I Googled it, and apparently it’s because she’s “experiencing her 17th year”? Because the time between you’re 0 and 1, you’re experiencing your first year, and so on.
Me: UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
Hazel gets to the church and pretends to fiddle around with her oxygen tank to kill time, and tells us how she doesn’t take the elevator because that’s a “Last Days” activity. I’m pretty sure unnecessary capitalization was also a last days activity, but I’d have to consult my Bible to be confident. Anway . . . Hazel gets a cookie and then there’s a guy there. And . . . description time!
Long and leanly muscular, he dwarfed the molded plastic elementary school chair he was sitting in.
He’s muscular, but not that muscular! Also he’s long, which I think means tall. And “molded plastic elementary school chair”. Really? Really? Say that five times fast. The unnecessary adjectives. “Molded” – because we weren’t smart enough to know the plastic isn’t liquid. “Elementary” kind of serves a purpose, but so would “tiny” or “little”, which would also get rid of “school”. So instead of “the little plastic chair” it’s “the molded plastic elementary school chair”. Okay.
Mahogany hair, straight and short. He looked my age, maybe a year older, and he sat with his tailbone against the edge of the chair, his posture aggressively poor, one hand half in a pocket of dark jeans.
So basically, besides his “aggressively poor posture” (which I imagine to mean he’s folded in half like a piece of paper), he’s perfect. And he’s staring at Hazel. And now it’s time to list why Hazel is oh-so-plain, also known as her “myriad inefficiencies”, which include: her hair, her puffy cheeks, her “cankle situation”, her jeans, her shirt, blah, blah, blah. Some boring description about checking the time and sitting down. Like three paragraphs of it. Then . . .
A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well.
So someone who you don’t find attractive staring at you is assault, but someone you do find attractive staring at you is heaven. Ooookay.
Hazel decides that girls can stare too (though with her “myriad inefficiencies”, and Hazel’s staring thesis, one would hope that Hazel is not committing the heinous crime of assault). Boys don’t have a monopoly on the Staring Business (capitalization Green’s, not mine), she cries. Boring talking about the hot boy’s eyes.
The support group starts. Isaac talks about how it’s going to suck being blind, but his friend Augustus and his girlfriend help. Then some other people talk about how cancer sucks and Hazel thinks a girl talking about how she feels strong is being arrogant. Because she’s hot. Awh, poor Hazel. Then little Augustus gets to go.
His voice was low, smoky, and dead sexy.
Of course it was. Augustus feels “grand” and is on a “roller coaster that only goes up”. Funny how Hazel doesn’t think he’s being arrogant. Because he’s hot. The support group continues on and is recapped so pretentiously, it begs to be quoted.
The hour proceeded apace: Fights were recounted, battles won amid wars sure to be lost; hope was clung to; families were both celebrated and denounced; it was agreed that friends just didn’t get it; tears were shed; comfort proffered.
Is it just me or does Hazel sound like she’s recapping her stupid support group like it’s The Odyssey?
The Augustus is asked to share his fears with the group. His fear is “oblivion”. He fears it
like the proverbial blind man who’s afraid of the dark
Isaac is offended and Augustus says that he’s insensitive to other people’s feelings. How/why the hell is he helping/being friends with a kid who’s going blind? Patrick is confused by what oblivion means and asks for clarification. Hazel raises her hand. What follows next is maybe one of the most pretentious parts of the book.
Hazel says oblivion means that there’s going to be a time when we’re all dead, and the human race won’t exist any more, and no one will remember anything that happened. That it’s inevitable but God knows what happens to everyone. (This is a shorter summation of what takes up about two book pages). She notes that she learned this from Peter Van Houten, and his book An Imperial Affliction. She also notes that Peter Van Houten is the best person who ever lived.
I think the fear of oblivion is interesting, and I won’t get into my thoughts about it, but it’s a little out of place for Augustus to say this in support group. I mean, I don’t like “oblivion” any more than the next person, but it’s weird if I were to say that in a room full of people I barely know. Especially since it demands like a 30 minute monologue. But really none of that matters because it’s just a way for John Green to show how cool and smart his two main characters are.
Augustus complements Hazel by saying she’s “something else”, which I would agree she is, but maybe not with the positive connotation. Then Patrick prays. It’s a long list of names. Hazel tells us it’s a long list of names. Then Hazel whines about how Support Group sucks. Augustus asks Hazel her full name [!] and she tells him it: Hazel Grace Lancaster. Cool. Then Isaac tells a stupid story about how he’d rather be deaf than blind, and his doctor telling him that that’s not how it works.
Augustus and Hazel banter and it’s stupid and boring and about how they’re in Jesus’ heart and how Hazel looks like Natalie Portman from V for Vendetta. Cool. Augustus tells Hazel she’s pretty, and instead of saying “thanks”, she says she’s not pretty.
Then, this . . .
“You should see it,” he said. “V for Vendetta, I mean.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll look it up.”
“No. With me. At my house,” he said. “Now”
Now that’s not creepy at all, is it? Hazel points out that she barely knows him, and he could be a murderer, but then she sees how hot he is and obliges. Then they see Isaac and his girlfriend making out and saying “always”, which isn’t their safe word, but rather their way of saying they’ll love each other always. Hazel notices that Isaac is feeling his girlfriend up, but forgives him. Umm, why is she forgiving him? It’s not like the girl is struggling against Isaac, they’re making out and obviously are in a relationship. Augustus and Hazel make a crack about Isaac’s hands and where they are (his girlfriend’s boobs).
Augustus takes out a cigarette and puts it in his mouth, and Hazel freaks out, saying he’s ruined the whole thing. What whole thing?
The whole thing where a boy who is not unattractive or unintelligent or seemingly in any way unacceptable stares at me and points out incorrect uses of literality and compares me to actresses and asks me to watch a movie at his house. But of course there is always a harmartia and yours [is that you’re going to smoke even though you had cancer].
“Unacceptable” – yeah, ‘cause it’s not like he demanded you watch a movie at his house but barely even knows you. Also, who the hell talks like this? Who the hell says “harmartia”? Hazel exposits this means means “fatal flaw”, though I would think that’d be Augustus’ pretentiousness. Who the hell breaks out into a monologue? Why not just say, “because you just had cancer, and you’re smoking cancer sticks, you dumbfuck?” Oh, right, because Hazel is too smart to say stuff like a normal teenager would.
Augustus says it’s a metaphor and he’s never lit one. First, how does he buy them? He’s seventeen, and you can legally only buy tobacco at eighteen. It’s not like you can just walk into the store and say, “oh don’t worry, I’m not going to smoke these, it’s just a metaphor.” Maybe he got his hands on just one pack, but that’s got to be gross putting the same fourteen cigarettes in your mouth for a year.
How is it a metaphor, though, you ask? Because he’s putting the thing that kills him between his teeth, but doesn’t allow it to have its killing power (the smoke). Which is technically wrong, because it’s the cancer that will kill him, but the cigarette that will cause the cancer. But, whatever. Maybe for a more effective metaphor, he should carry around a dagger and put that in his mouth, but not make any stabby motions with it.
Hazel is so enamored with Augustus’ speciality that she hops in his car, tells her mom to record ANTM for her, and rides off into the sunlight.
Aw . . .
Up next time, more unneeded capitalization, a movie, and you guessed it, people being pretentious.
Like the last line of V for Vendetta “Are you hurt [yet]?”
The Smith of Lie on 19 July 2014, 05:20 said:
Forsooth, I am wont to indulge in verbosity, mostly for the sake of levity, but Hazel is ridiculous. And she possibly suffers from dissociative personality disorder rather than depression. That would explain why half the time she speaks like borderline valley girl and half like she was beaten with thesaurus as a child.
I think that not mentioning that Hazel is an orangutan was an oversight on your part. Sure, this does not make her any more interesting, consistent or likeable, but the fact the protaginist is
a monkeyan ape is pretty significant.As for the fear of Oblivion – that is some hardcore Morrowind fanboyism here. Scary to think how he’d react to Skyrim…
And finally a wish – have Augustus with his idiotic cigarette in mouth meet a person who has lung cancer caused by exposure to asbestos. That’d be hillarious.
Organiclead on 19 July 2014, 06:14 said:
Why are protagonists allergic to group activities? You never see a YA novel hero who actually likes hanging out in clubs or groups. I’d like to see more YA protagonists who don’t hate everyone they meet just to prove how much better they are than the rest of the world.
Asahel on 19 July 2014, 10:58 said:
Better question: How can she forgive him? Let’s even assume for a moment that he is doing something unquestionably wrong to his girlfriend. Wouldn’t it be up to his girlfriend whether or not to forgive him? What makes Hazel think she can forgive him for something he’s done to someone else? Does she have a Jesus Christ complex or what?
Apep on 19 July 2014, 13:14 said:
Wow, this thing does hit the ground running, doesn’t it?
Hate to tell ya, Hazel (actually, that’s a lie), but it sounds like you are depressed. Depression, from what I understand, isn’t being sad and weepy, it’s also just not having the energy to do anything. If this were an occasional thing, that’d be fine. But this is chronic. Your mom’s right, and you need help.
And with a nice helping of morbidity on the side.
I’m not an avid church-goer, but I’m pretty sure a lot of churches (especially old ones) are shaped like a cross, at least on the inside.
And that’s about all the connection to Green’s late friend with cancer there is – the fact that the protagonist has the same kind of cancer. Oh, but he had to have it move to her lungs, so he could keep his precious “drowning metaphor”. Because why let little things like “facts” get in the way when you have a “vision”.
And this is why John Green does the Humanities videos for Crash Course. A healthy person (and one who understands how probabilities work) would go, “In five years, four out of every five people in this room will probably be dead.”
I actually know someone with a fake eye, and in all honesty, I can’t tell which one is real.
Okay, serious question – how do you even pronounce that? The /g/ sound is a stop (specifically, a voiced velar stop). You know why it’s called a “stop”? Because it stops the flow of air, meaning it can’t be stretched out like it is here.
All I’m getting from this is that Gussie-poo wants to look big and intimidating. Because I refuse to believe that any church – especially one that hosts community stuff like a support group – wouldn’t have adult-sized chairs. Meaning that Gussie-poo went to one of the Sunday School rooms and stole one of their chairs just for this.
Also, he’d look like an idiot.
Also also, I refuse to refer to him as “Augustus”. One, it’s incredibly pretentious. Two, he is unworthy to bear the honorific of the first Emperor of Rome.
And thank you, John Green, for once again reinforcing the idea that being attractive totally excuses creepy behavior. Are you planning on teaching this kind of behavior to your son? Because if so, I look forward to the day he gets arrested for stalking a girl.
Because how dare she not wallow in her almost certain death! How dare she hope that she might survive! She has cancer – she should have given up all hope long ago!
This makes me wonder if Green’s ever been on a roller coaster. Because honestly, the “up” part (i.e. the beginning) is both the most stressful and the most boring part. The fun part is what comes after. If it were meant as a subversion (Gussie is constantly worried and just wants this whole mess to be over with), that’d be fine. But I kinda doubt it’s intended that way.
Good question. He’s kind of a terrible friend, not to mention person.
For the sake of my sanity, I’m going to assume he means “What the hell are you talking about?” and not “I don’t understand.”
Again, did Green even see V for Vendetta? Because if the posters and whatnot for the movie are accurate, that girl (especially her hair) look nothing like Natalie Portman’s did. HER HEAD GETS SHAVED IN THAT MOVIE, GREEN. UNLESS HAZEL DID THE SAME THING, THEY LOOK NOTHING ALIKE.
See, this? This I like. Because that’s what I’d expect a real person with a potentially life-threatening disease to do – have as many good experiences as he can while he has the chance. Why can’t this book be about Isaac instead of these pretentious douches?
You know what would have worked better here? Hazel having lung cancer, despite never having smoked a day in her life. And she’d be mad at him, and he’d have to actually try to prove that he’s not an insensitive douche, and the romance could develop naturally. But that would take time and effort, and why would you want to waste precious pages on that when you can have these two idiots be pretentious at each other instead?
In the real world, this would probably be the last time anyone saw her. Gussie would get arrested and locked away for the remainder of his short life.
Or better yet, Hazel’s mom would just say “How long have you known this boy? You just met? Then no, and get in the car.”
Okay, that’s hilarious. You win a cookie.
She is the Almighty Hazel Grace Lancaster, arbiter of what is appropriate. That girl in the group committed the unforgivable sin of being both positive about her situation while also being attractive and female.
Apep on 19 July 2014, 13:18 said:
Also, for a good cancer story, I recommend “Stranger Vs. The Malevolent Malignancy”. It’s hilarious, while still packing a punch. You can listen to the full-cast recording of it for free here.
Resistance on 19 July 2014, 13:56 said:
Maybe it’s some sort of growl or ape noise, as The Smith of Lie suggested.
Apep on 19 July 2014, 16:16 said:
Personally, I was thinking more along the lines of, “Uh-guh-guh-guh-guh” etc.
swenson on 19 July 2014, 16:50 said:
Ahaha yes, and then I can run by and smack it down his throat.
Apep, you basically summed up everything else I wanted to say. :)
pug on 19 July 2014, 16:51 said:
Keep in mind that narration is different from dialogue. Most people can write much more eloquently than they can speak.
Garbage like this, though….
“I am,” he said. He was staring at me, and I could see the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”
I also don’t think “presumably” is a terribly pretentious word, but Hazel definitely thinks she’s the next Melville most of the time.
Resistance on 19 July 2014, 17:41 said:
I think what he was going for was “uhhhhhhh”, like the groaning sound you make when you’re tired or don’t want to do something, but wrote it with “G“s for some reason.
Too true.
Apep’s comment probably made me gigglesnort every other line. After reading the disparaging Goodreads reviews for this book, it’s definitely the best way to cure my rage for the pretentiousness :)
Juracan on 19 July 2014, 17:56 said:
This. This is why I can’t seem to understand Hazel. Green’s referred to her as ‘empathetic’ despite the fact that she clearly looks down on everyone around her who doesn’t do what she wants them to.
Also this. This nihilistic insistence that nothing in the end matters is… disconcerting to say the least.
This line also creeps me out. I mean, how is this even slightly romantic? A guy you meet who says you’re hot because you look the female lead from one of his favorite movies and actively demands that you come to see the movie with him right this second.
Clearly, the poster I saw at the movie theater was correct in proclaiming this “THE GREATEST LOVE STORY OF OUR TIME.”
This just screams affectation. I can understand if this was shown to be a really pretentious statement in-book, but nobody who’s supposed to be sympathetic tells him off and all the fans think this is clever.
To be completely fair though, John Green disagrees with Gus’s statement, pointing out that he’s wrong, and that he really doesn’t have control over cancer at all. Naturally he fails to point out that it’s a stupid thing to do, but I’ll take what I can get. Don’t know if that’s made clear in the book though.
DAMN I made a similar joke in a Facebook Note when the trailer came out. Yours was better though.
Ah, pug, we’ll get to that one later. In all it’s awkward, pretentious glory.
Resistance on 19 July 2014, 18:03 said:
I think you were the one to point out Green’s strange insistence that the readers try to read the book “separate from the author” was due to his belief in “Death of the Author” theory.
When I first read this, I didn’t understand what you meant, but I think this instance perfectly applies to the statement above.
Juracan on 19 July 2014, 18:08 said:
^Yeah, pretty much. And the fact that the vast majority of readers didn’t even get a whiff of the idea that Gus might be wrong is rather telling.
Resistance on 19 July 2014, 18:16 said:
I wouldn’t have minded it if Green added Hazel thinking about how it was stupid or actually evaluating Gus’ statement. But instead she practically drools over how a guy “acts out metaphors in real life” or something.
I would have been fine with this whole “cigarette metaphor” if
a. Gus had gotten cancer from smoking (though he’d probably have to be a bit older and a former chainsmoker)
b. and kept a pack of cigarettes in his pocket (rather than putting them in his mouth) to show how he was strong enough to resist the urge to smoke or whatever
ooooor
Hazel talked about how stupid it was. But then Gus wouldn’t be perfect . . . and Green would have exposed Gus for the pretentious simpleton he is.
Epke on 19 July 2014, 18:26 said:
Ok, spoilers for a chapter or two ahead now, but I have to get it out.
This fictional Van Houten wrote a book about a girl with cancer who was deep and intellectual – like Hazel is supposedly – and who later starts a charity for cholera or something like it. Hazel is based (in part) on Green’s dead friend, who was friends with Green (obviously), who has written a book about a girl with cancer, who is (supposedly) deep and intellectual. See where I am going with this?
John Green is Peter Van Houten, and has written himself into the book and has his protagonist praise him constantly.
Yeah. Now, I’ll admit that it might be me reading too much into it, but… sure looks like it.
So he’s got the physique of every male love interest in a YA novel ever? Wow. So original. I’m also curious how he kept that physique if he’s got cancer… correct me if I am wrong, but doesn’t chemo/cancer in general make you very very tired?
pug on 19 July 2014, 19:19 said:
So Hazel likes this book because she identifies with the protagonist through the idealistic wish-fulfillment in her brain telling her she’s smart and clever and witty just like the protagonist…like…every other teenaged, female YA reader ever.
Neat.
Rorschach on 20 July 2014, 00:46 said:
…but Van Houten turns out to be a complete and utter douchebag, so I’m not sure I really buy this. Is Green trying to argue that people love him but actually he’s a miserable drunken asshole?
I think you’re reading too much into this.
The Smith of Lie on 20 July 2014, 04:18 said:
Wow, this is like an Inception of self-insertion…
Epke on 20 July 2014, 09:06 said:
When he replies to Gus’s letter, he’s basically shitting on everyone and everything with fancy words, but they praise him for being awesome. Now, while he does turn out to be a drunk (because he lost his daughter) and a douchebag, he redeems himself with the funeral and apologising. As I said, I probably am reading too much into this, but if if we just look at the Peter Van Houten we get to see before meeting him, he fits Green to a T.
I had a thought about Van Houten’s pre-alcoholism and literary career, but for the life of me, I can’t put it into words.
I’d go so far as to say that Green argues that people can love your work despite being a terrible person in reality, like many YA authors out there.
<Inception foghorn blares in the background>
pug on 20 July 2014, 11:00 said:
From Epike’s description of him, Van Houten reminds me greatly of Hemingway: drunk, depressed, disdainful toward the ostentatious. He might turn out to be the one redeemable thing about this book.
moptophero on 20 July 2014, 14:12 said:
I have some issues that made me think:
One: Is this church support group actually the only support group for cancer patients? IS there only one? Or is Regular Doctor Jim the only doctor in town that he recommends this group? Given he’s a regular doctor and not an oncologist, I’m a little confused.
Two: Really, who bought those cigarettes? Did he steal them? No one has noticed? Did he tell whoever he bought them from that “it’s okay, I have cancer and I’m not smoking them”? And who the hell actively acts out a metaphor? And. . . does he have lung cancer from smoking? Because that’s the only way this makes sense. Because that metaphor falls apart if smoking/second-hand smoking isn’t partly responsible for his cancer.
Three: Hazel, your mother did not ‘decide’ you are depressed. Having little to no energy to do things, lack of social contact, chronic fatigue and over-sleeping, little appetite and. . . repetitive thoughts of death/dying (especially when you are in fact close to terminally ill) are pretty big honkin’ signs that something is clearly wrong.
Four: Gussie, I know you aren’t in a good blippin’ place but courtesy, empathy are not out to steal your thunder. Also, I get your fear of the cessation of existence there’s no reason to be a dick about it with other people who are suffering as you are.
lilyWhite on 22 July 2014, 11:00 said:
Holy crap, this is just about the closest I’ve ever seen to Dear Esther.
Heck, all you need to do is remove the “molded plastic” part. Anyone who’s been to elementary school knows what the chairs there look like; the “elementary school” part says enough about its size, which is really the only thing that matters in that sentence.
Is this just how Green shoves in a moment to describe what Hazel looks like, or does he just say this and expect the reader to know what Hazel looks like from that?
Also—and this is a large reason why it’s a good idea not to include things like this—how does that tell someone like me anything when I’ve never seen V for Vendetta?
I tried, and I sounded like a vibrating cellphone.
It might have been Green realizing that he was writing a thinly-veiled self-insert and thus made Van Houten an ass to throw people off of that.
Apep on 22 July 2014, 12:48 said:
That’s okay, because from what I’ve seen elsewhere, Green hasn’t either. Hazel describes her hair as a “pageboy haircut”. Here’s what a “pageboy” haircut looks like:
And for reference, here’s two images of Natalie Portman from V for Vendetta:
Now, do either of Ms. Portman’s hairstyles resemble the first one?
Sanrock on 12 September 2014, 14:04 said:
When are you going back to sporking this book? I just finished reading it and made a video review where I bash the book to crap (it has one thumbs down so far, BTW.) I really don’t want to be the only person who thinks this book is crap.
pug on 16 September 2014, 08:00 said:
When is this going to continue?
Meow on 24 April 2015, 22:28 said:
This is Patrick. Patrick had bitch tits.
Pie on 25 June 2015, 01:42 said:
I’m surprised no one mentioned this in the comments but:
Since you where harping about the ‘seventeenth year’ thing so much: Yes, this is a thing people say. Maybe not so much in English language countries?
Where I live, people don’t usually say it but they usually understand what it means: Everything after your birthday until your next birthday is the ‘year’ of your next birthday’s ‘number’. For example, I’m 26 but my birthday is this year in December, so, one day after my 26th birthday the time afterwards became my 27th year. The time after my 27th birthday will be my 28th year. And so on.
It’s not wrong. Just looks weird in a book for teenagers.
The Smith of Lie on 25 June 2015, 04:25 said:
Well, it can be a proper phrase, but it still is bad writing. There is need for versimilitude in the dialogues – people in certain societies, of certain ages and so on tend to speak differently. If you see a frat boy expressing his awe of another frat member setting his flatulance on fire with words “Thour art the man!” it breaks the suspension of disbelief, since people don’s talk this way.
I think the “seventeenth year” complaint has less to do with the phrase itself and more with the fact, that in given context the character comes off as pretentious.
Resistance on 25 June 2015, 09:32 said:
I’ve never heard people use something like “twentieth year” in talking about their age (though I have heard it used to talk about a company/instition – “This will be Mango Corporation’s twentieth year of providing fresh fruit”).
Smith of Lie pretty much summed up everything else. I was more concerned about the fact that Hazel, a teen, was saying it than the word itself.
lastcerebrate on 14 August 2016, 21:28 said:
@Smith
good to know someone else acknowledges the Daedric lords. And I must say, while Oblivion has some rather nasty places, there are some nicer ones. Mortal stereotypes.
As for ‘like’ I have not heard it from a teenage as an general purpose exclamation. Personally I wish that authors would not try to make their teenagers sound like valley girl rejects. It makes them sound, like, totally stupid!
As for Hazel, she seems like a shallow, vapid teen trying to distance herself from everyone else. Which I could get, if it was portrayed without the thesaurus dumps and maybe backing away from the division of boys into assault preps and, well, Augustus. Does he put the peep in his mouth but not swallow? Cause that is a very expensive non-habit to have.
Maybe the story will be Hazel learning to empathize with others… or maybe not.