I started to get excited about this when I read it.
Augustus Waters drove horrifically.
I thought, you know, maybe, just maybe, Augustus could have a flaw. A teeny-eeny little yellow bikini flaw? Luckily, my wish was granted. Augustus sucks at driving. Sucks so much that our Hazel is bouncing up and down in her seat like a rag-doll on a rollercoaster. If only this were a mystery, and Augustus the killer; luring girls into his car to see V For Vendetta with his smile and hot-ness and then killing them in automotive accidents.
If only.
Nope, Augustus is just a really, really shitty driver. Fortunately, he has one flaw so far. Unfortunately, this really has to do jack all with his character, because unless Hazel and Augustus are going to enter the next monster truck race, go on a road trip around the U.S.A, or never get out of the car until the end of the book it doesn’t matter whether or not he’s a good, great, horrible, or average driver. And even though Hazel is being basically thrown around the car, she doesn’t seem to care. She’s not impressed, but the least dissent she shows to Auggie is by making “snarky” jokes, which she does already. So . . . basically this is a waste of a page.
Moving on, Auggie and Hazel talk about how he only passed his test because of a Cancer Perk (thank you, unneeded capitalization), i.e. something that people with cancer get that other people don’t – passing drivers tests, autographs, trips to Disney, etc. and then they start talking about cancer.
Hazel talks about how she got pulled out of school, what happened when she got surgery, some melodramatic stuff about letting go, blah, blah. That’s really one of the things about this book that makes it hard for me to connect with the characters: their over-dramatization of everything. I get it, having cancer is hard. Yes, you face death, and have to overcome obstacles. But the way that these trials are described sounds . . . fake. Kind of like someone who hasn’t had cancer describing how cancer is. It’s . . . pumped up.
I was looking pretty dead – my hands and feet ballooned; my skin cracked; my lips were perpetually blue. They’ve got this drug that makes you not feel so completely terrified about the fact that you can’t breathe, and I had a lot of it flowing into me through a PICC line, and more than a dozen other drugs beside . . . I finally ended up in the ICU with pneumonia, and my mom knelt by the side . . . and my dad just kept telling me he loved me in this voice that was not breaking so much as already broken
As I said before, cancer is a very emotional thing. It would be a very depressing time, especially when one thought that they had no hope. Just the way that Hazel talks about this. It seems lifeless. A few weeks ago, there was an audio-diary on This American Life about a woman waiting to get her results about Huntington’s disease, which I recommend you check out . (It’s Act Two) Though I have no history of Huntington’s or know anyone with the disease, I still found it to be very emotionally moving.
The diary was very sad, it definitely had a very dark tone to it. But there were other varied emotions in there. The woman joking with her sisters about being in a nursing home, reminiscing about their mother. There was happiness, hope, and sadness, which really made it seem human, and relatable. But Hazel is this depressed about everything. There’s no little bits of humor, there’s no hopefulness. It all sounds very stunted and un-realistic. I feel kind of bad for her, but only because I “should”. The “should” feeling is not a feeling a book should aspire to inspire.
And Hazel has reason to be hopeful, if not the least bit happy.
The drug was Phalanxifor, this molecule designed to attach itself to cancer cells and slow their growth. It didn’t work in about 70 percent of people. But it worked in me. The tumors shrank.
Yes, Hazel has, quite literally a miracle drug that’s shrinking her tumors, helping her quality of life, and hey, guess what, only works in about 30% of people! And I understand, she still has cancer, and yes, she still has to wear her breathing tubes, but still. I might understand her depressed attitude if she was near-death, but at this point, she should at least feel something more than complete apathy towards life. I wouldn’t even mind her apathy, if it was written in an engaging way. Something that made me feel helpless too. But instead all I’m hearing is “life sucks, yeah, it sucks, ugh”.
Hazel continues whining about cancer until Augustus asks her about school. She tells him she has her GED and is now in college. He tells her she’s sophisticated. Oh, please, Green, I can’t take it with all this witty banter!
They get to his house, which surprisingly, is not filled with the meaningless body parts of former lovers, but rather, filled with meaningless quotes on plaques, illustrations, and pillows.
Good Friends Are Hard to Find and Impossible to Forget read an illustration above the coatrack. True Love is Born from Hard Times promised a needle-pointed pillow . . . “My parents call them Encouragements,” he explained. “They’re everywhere.”
Augustus’ house might as well be a metaphor for this book. Filled with sayings and messasges that are supposed to have some new, original thought or meaning in them, but are really just over-used clichés that everyone knows. Also, I don’t think we need to capitalize that E. If the grammar in your book starts following that of 18th century documents, then it may be time to edit. (See here )
Anyway, Hazel meets the parents, who are unimpressed with Auggie’s latest conquest.
The fact that Augustus made me feel special did not necessarily indicate that I was special. Maybe he brought home a different girl every night to show her movies and feel her up.
Sounds legit, Hazel, sounds legit. If this were real life, Augustus and Hazel would watch a movie, they’d text or something for a couple of weeks, hook up, and then not talk to each other. Then we could hear Hazel’s story sans Augustus and everyone would be much happier.
Unfortunately, that’s not what happens. Hazel and Augustus’ parents talk about dinner and Hazel mentions she’s a vegetarian. Augustus asks if it’s because “animals are just too cute”, which although I’m not a vegetarian, can’t help find just a little bit demeaning.
Most people who don’t eat meat, at least in my experience, do it: a. as a way of supporting animal rights (i.e. not eating meat to protest the huge factory farms), b. for religious reasons, or c. for health reasons. What might be the even bigger sin, however, is when Hazel responds with “I want to minimize the number of deaths I’m responsible for.” And I just know Green put this in here to make it dramatic and tragic because ooh la la, Hazel’s gonna die and look how she cares about animals isn’t she precious? Maybe Augustus’ comment wasn’t so out of line after all.
After dinner, Augustus tells his parents that they’re going to watch V for Vendetta in the basement. Auggie’s dad says no. Augustus does not like this answer. Thou doth protesteth too much, Augustus. Turns out that the basement is Augustus’ bedroom. Well that explains that.
Auggie’s dad says they have to watch the movie in the living room but he can show Hazel his basement/bedroom. Apparently it’s filled with trophies because Augustus was an A-plus-plus basketball player, but he doesn’t play anymore. Is it because he had cancer? No. Disapproval of his parents? No. Any other reasonable explanation? No. I’ll let Augustus describe it to you.
I couldn’t figure out why I was methodically tossing a spherical object through a toroidal object. It seemed like the stupidest thing I could possibly be doing.
Well if, that’s how you feel. But honestly, this could be applied to anything. “I started wondering why I was methodically moving my arms and legs to propel myself forward to a building where I would be taught in the art of knowing past events, using imaginary things we call “numbers”, speaking in different sounds, and the dreaded P.E.”
Yes, some things in our society are weird, but they mostly harken back to our biological instincts: going to the gym to look better for a potential mate, or even something like buying new clothes (as nice clothes can be an indicator for wealth and therefore a stable environment).
Honestly, Gus’ plea of irrelevance sounds like something someone who didn’t like basketball would say (or someone going through a mock-existential crisis). Then we get into hurdlers.
I started thinking about [hurdlers] running their hurdle races, and jumping over these totally arbitrary objects that had been set in their path. And I wondered if hurdlers ever though, you know, This would go faster if we just got rid of the hurdles.”
They say there are no stupid questions, but this just might be one. Hurdling races are to measure a person’s competency at running and jumping over objects in their way. We like to see and show off at how good we are at different things. If someone wanted to show their ability to run straight distances, they’d be running a race without hurdles. Hurdles are put there so that one can show their ability at running with obstacles in the way. It’s like asking someone who makes homemade jam if they know that it’d be a lot easier to just buy it from the store. Well, obviously, but that’s not the fucking point.
Also, Augustus calls his basketball crisis “the existentially fraught free throws”. How beautiful. You know the story of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf”? Green, if you ever decide to re-title TFIOS, a good choice would be The Boy Who Cried What Does it all Mean?
Unfortunately for us, Hazel finds Augustus’ pointless, meaningless questions very sexy.
I like that he was a tenured professor in the Department of Slightly Crooked Smiles with a dual appointment in the Department of Having a Voice That Made My Skin Feel More Like Skin.
May I direct you again to this ? Really, truly, honestly, when has anybody in their right mind thought like this unless they were a. Parodying themselves or b. A ten-year-old girl in a Disney movie. Maybe, maybe, you’d think, oh, “I like his/her smile” or “their voice is really sexy” or something, but come on, Green.
Moving on. Augustus asks Hazel what her interests are, and laments the fact that some people, “become their disease,” which is pretty much the only cogent point that this book has made so far. There are people that are a. milking their disease for attention to the point where they forget anything else about themselves or b. so sick and miserable that they can’t think about anything else. Generally, most people like this fall into the latter category. Which is sad, but I can’t help thinking that Gus means this as a jab to people in both situations.
I usually don’t nitpick over stuff like this, but this just made my blood boil. Hazel wonders how she should “pitch herself” to Augustus Waters. Of course, you want to make good impressions on people, but I don’t think at any point any man or woman looking for a boyfriend/girlfriend should be pitching themselves to someone. You’re not the Shark Steam Mop and a blonde woman isn’t shilling you on the Home Shopping Network. If someone doesn’t like you without you doing a Broadway show of how wonderful you are, then the relationship isn’t going to work out anyway. I don’t think anyone should be treating themselves as a product they have to sell.
Hazel says she likes to read. Augustus asks for clarification.
Everything. From, like, hideous romance to pretentious fiction to poetry. Whatever.
Well, if you took out poetry you’d pretty much sum up this book. Augustus nearly orgasms at the fact that Hazel is the only teenager who likes to read poetry rather than write it. I should hope that Augustus’ views do not reflect Green’s. I’m young, I write poetry. Is it good? Not by a long shot. But, and that’s a very big but, that doesn’t mean that I don’t read poetry. I love reading poetry. We’ve started our main poetry unit in English and it’s one of my favorite things so far. Are there angsty teens spilling out the lamentations of their lost love? Yes. But for every one of those, you’ll find someone who really enjoys reading, and maybe writing poetry. We’re not exactly an exotic breed.
Augustus asks what’s Hazel’s favorite book. She tells the reader that it’s An Imperial Affliction, but she doesn’t want to tell Augustus because that’ll take away it’s special-ness and it’s betrayal. Which, I kind of, but don’t really understand. Most people don’t have a problem recommending books to people, but usually if you ask them what sort of music they like, they sort of shy away from the question, because some people tend to think music represents, or should represent who you are as a person.
Hazel kind of relates this to her book, saying that the author understood her, blah, blah, blah. If you are afraid to tell someone what your favorite book, movie, song, etc. is because you feel it represents you then most likely it’s because you’re afraid that the other person won’t like it. And if they don’t like the book, movie, song then they don’t like you. And all that means is that you’ve put too much of yourself into that thing.
Augustus isn’t impressed and Hazel is a little bit crushed. He asks her to read the novel form of his favorite video game. I would expect him to ask Hazel to read Great Expectations or something. I didn’t think people with “existentially fraught free throws” like such common things as video games.
Long story short, they watch V for Vendetta, and Hazel debunks an “encouragement” (which I refuse to capitalize) that says “Without Pain, How Could We Know Joy”, stating that the existence of broccoli doesn’t affect the taste of chocolate.
On one hand, bravo for standing up to stupidity, but on the other hand, why weren’t you saying stuff like this when we were talking about “existentially fraught free throws” or hurdlers? (Spoiler: the answer is probably Augustus’ hot-ness).
They drive home, think about kissing, don’t kiss, and Augustus reveals that he’s written his phone number in the book he gave her. How sweet.
On the next edition of The Boy Who Cried What Does it all Mean ? – a fake British accent, toe-phobia, a little girl, and a cannula. Hopefully this time it’ll be within less than 5 months.
pug on 28 November 2014, 02:38 said:
IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME
Juracan on 28 November 2014, 10:06 said:
Well more than that, some people find basketball fun. I mean, I don’t, but that doesn’t mean the idea of basketball is inherently pointless. I don’t know, Augustus’s attitude here is really pretentious: “I just didn’t understand why people find this stupid thing fun, and clearly it’s an inferior activity.” What gets to me about this even more is that he apparently thinks very low of athletic activities but finds video games to be alright. So basketball, a game that requires skill, hand-eye coordination, and teamwork is a pointless activity, but video games, which might require you to be able to react quickly with pushing buttons but not much else, is just fine?
Sounds to me like someone was just writing in their favorite hobby/dislikes into the character.
And I wouldn’t mind so much if someone pointed out they hypocrisy in-story, but from what I can tell from this (and other online sources), no one does.
Resistance on 28 November 2014, 11:03 said:
@pug Indeed. Hopefully I’ll be able to get on a more consistent schedule now.
@Juracan There does seem to be this weird double side to Augustus. He likes video games but not basketball (like you said, how is basketball a lower activity than video games as the former requires much more skill?) and he pretends as if he’s Socrates’ mentee but reads video game novels?
I guess it would be okay if John was trying to show that teens who talk about “oblivion” and “existentially fraught free throws” are really just the same as everyone else, they like video games and silly books. If he was poking fun at the pseudo intellectuals in the book, that’d be a refreshing twist. Unfortunately, I think the reader is supposed to take what the characters say quite seriously
Pryotra on 28 November 2014, 14:56 said:
You know, if 30% of people on a cancer cure lived, this would be revolutionary. John Green fails at understanding cancer research.
I disagree.
If everything tasted like chocolate, chocolate would be completely meaningless. There would be no real enjoyment of it, since while it was good, there was nothing to compare it to. It would just be another meal. It wouldn’t be a desert, it wouldn’t be anything. What’s more, if you put someone who had never had anything but chocolate into a situation where everything tasted like broccoli, they’d have major problems even eating as they’re not accustomed to putting up with even a little suffering.
Hazel’s dismissal of the idea shows that she, and Green, don’t really have a full understanding of it, nor a really defined answer for the question of suffering. Not only that, but she is completely invaliding anyone who has used that argument as a means to rationalize their suffering and make it bearable. Because how dare somewhat look at their life with something like hope. Hope is for losers. And so are people putting pain into a context that makes them feel more in control of it.
They should be as hopeless and depressed as her, even though she’s actually on the upswing, and has very little, as this point to whine about.
…I hate Hazel.
Apep on 28 November 2014, 15:46 said:
Just pointing this out because it was mentioned in another spork – a drug that is effective in 30% of all cases (note the lack of any other qualifiers like that it’s only used to treat certain kinds of cancer) would make it kind of a miracle drug. I mean, holy shit, three out of every ten people who take this see positive results? Why isn’t everyone using this? You’d have to have some pretty nasty side-effects for it not to be more common.
Oh, wait, that would make Hazel-poo less special, wouldn’t it? And once again, I’m seeing why Johnnie-boy does the humanities stuff, because apparently he sucks at basic math.
Wow, parents actually acting like parents. I should not be impressed by this sort of behavior.
And you’re damn right they’re not going to let their teenage son hang out in his bedroom with some girl he just brought home. Hell, why isn’t Hazel objecting to this? Oh, wait, she’s the one who decided to go to the house of the guy who she literally just met. Really, I’m surprised she’s lasted as long as she has. Maybe the cancer is nature’s way of taking her out of the gene pool.
Translation: “I used to play basketball, but then I got bored with it.” There. Now you sound like an actual teen, not some pretentious twit.
I’m sure this is intended to show how deep Gussie-poo is supposed to be, but it completely backfires because his whole point falls apart upon even cursory examination, as demonstrated above. Why don’t they get rid of the hurdles? Because that’s not the damn point. Idiot.
The fuck does that even mean? How does something feel more like itself?
The Smith of Lie on 28 November 2014, 18:41 said:
OH GOD! Rorschach’s Dragon Lexicon spork spilled into the book! Run, run everyone. Before Eng’s terrible writing infects us all.
Seriously. Why is this praised? I want someone to find a person, that liked that book, a one who claimed it is full of wisdom and meaning and once that person is here I want to know what the hell “the existentially fraught free throws” even mean. I know what existance is. I know what fraught means. I am aware of free throws. But for the life of mine I can’t decipher how they can be a metaphor.
So far, mind you I know characters only by proxy, I am starting to wonder if they ever acquire a marmot. But I guess they believe in something, if that something is pretentiousness they spout.
Juracan on 29 November 2014, 20:38 said:
Yeah, that’d be my guess too. But the thing is, no one every calls these characters out on it. If a character gave Augustus an epic talking-to of this caliber, then I’d be more okay with it and be wondering why we were sporking the book at all.
Now arguably, when Auggie is weak and sick at the end of the book, that would be when we realize that pretentious Augustus Waters is really a facade, but the fact is still romanticized; this is the Augustus Waters we’re meant to visualize and care about— the guy written as the perfect boyfriend for the average nerd girl. Smarter than everyone around him, in shape but not actually interested in sports, confident in his own greatness, and falls in love with the lonely depressed girl immediately.
But the only one who actually tells Mr. Waters off is someone who is supposed to be unsympathetic in that scene. And he turns around and falls into line by the end of the book.
I swear, if I ever get around to reading this book, I’m going to write an epic companion essay to your sporking.
Well I don’t know if it’s quite that bad. Then again, the fact is that this became popular, unlike Eng’s book, so maybe by that virtue it is that bad.
I have my theories.
For one, it’s a young adult book that became popular and wasn’t speculative fiction. There were no vampires, no dragons, no angels; no car chases or firefights or murders. It’s just teens. So to critics, this already has their attention, as it doesn’t have the elements not considered to be parts of “true literature.” It’s been called the “book that saved Young Adult literature.” That’s one reason I see it’s been popular among my fellow English majors.
Secondly, it’s something that a lot of teenagers get. Like I said above, teenagers can see Augustus Waters as the perfect boyfriend, because that’s pretty much how he’s written to be. The two characters see themselves as special snowflakes alone in the world surrounded by ignorant peers, which is something a lot of well-read teenagers and young adults feel. But instead of deconstructing this mindset, it just seems to unintentionally play on it and run with it.
And thirdly, it’s a book that plays with emotions. It’s basically a Nicholas Sparks story like that. Despite the story not necessarily being done that well, the fact is it hits all the notes that are supposed to draw emotional response— cancer, teenagers in love, tragical love stories, misunderstood teenagers. The reason I haven’t picked up the book so far is because reading the summary, it sounded like the author was sitting at his computer typing yelling “Cry, damnit!”
Mind you, some of my classmates admitted that as much as they loved it, it did have its faults, and Lindsey Ellis/Nostalgia Chick, who talked highly of it, admitted that a certain scene (which will come up later in the spork, I imagine) was pretty weird and uncomfortable.
Sanrock on 2 December 2014, 00:08 said:
@Juracan
I’m an English major and I fucking hate this book. Seriously, I don’t understand how anyone likes this book.
The Smith of Lie on 2 December 2014, 05:29 said:
Oh. So it is like if Daria had no humor and charm and instead was full or pretentiousness.
I admit, I can see the appeal of the idea. It is just the execution that makes it seem like reading this book would nothing but existentionally fraught free throws.
Pryotra on 2 December 2014, 16:54 said:
I’m a Master’s student in World Literature and I hate this book. It’s the most pretentious piece of garbage marketed for teenagers that I’ve ever read.
Juracan on 2 December 2014, 21:11 said:
Oh. Well. I was just saying the English major thing out of experience— I was still in college as an English major when the book was coming out, and several of my classmates were huge fans and telling me to read it and see the movie. I figured it was common. Perhaps a stupid assumption on my part.
SadPuppyBureaucrat on 2 December 2014, 21:40 said:
While I thought the whole book was ok (or at least I didn’t hate it!), the archaic language was the most annoying part of the book. I see what the author is getting at…some teens equate certain affectations with intellect and wisdom (hell, some adults do) and so the love interest being pretentious is not surprising. “Look guys, this boy is like hot and smart!” (insert drool). As Juracan implied, if you’re writing with teen audiences in mind, it’s unfortunately too easy to fall into this trap. Lacking more obvious flaws was a major problem with the character of Augustus in my eyes as well.
This is a hard one. It goes to the core of Hazel’s view that pain sucks and there’s no point in saying otherwise. I get Pryotra’s point that absolute measurements aren’t helpful if you don’t have a point of reference. That said, I think the author is genuinely trying (and perhaps failing) to chip away at the trope that pain is always meaningful. Sometimes darkness accentuates light, while in other times it’s just frackin’ blinding. Neither Hazel nor Auggie’s parents have cared to tailor their messaging to the audience, taking a dogmatic stance (spoiler alert: I think this is where Hazel eventually does ok). Some people need encouragement, and Hazel will crush it in the name of statistics (though yes, her odds are good). Some people hate sugar-coating, and Auggie’s parents will insist on it anyway because otherwise they won’t be able to wrap their heads around suffering that isn’t tied to some moral lesson.
pug on 4 December 2014, 22:27 said:
Because sports historically were played to prepare men’s bodies for war. You’re strengthening your physical and mental self for future conflict. Most people who play it today do it for enjoyment as well. Fuck you.
Heather on 8 February 2016, 16:27 said:
Hey, I know this is old and all, but
1) this is pretty interesting and I’d love to read more (I haven’t read the book, somehow the hype didn’t attract me much…) and on a more ranty note,
2) I was WAITING for someone to question the most fundamental flaw in the chocolate-broccoli statement, but apparently it’s universally agreed that broccoli equals suffering???? Dude, I GROW broccoli because I, like, want to eat it. Have none of you guys ever had homemade pasta primavera? I realize there’s room to disagree here, I was just waiting for ONE dissenting opinion. Oh well.
Off to read your last contribution on the spork! Hope you write more sometime!