Warning: this is not for the faint-hearted. I cried like an absolute baby at this novel. Like, for twelve chapters straight.
I’d heard lots of good things about John Green but didn’t get a chance to read it until I was…ahem… shopping for school books and found it on Buy One Get One Half Price in Waterstone’s. It would have been rude not to really. Or at least that’s what I told that little voice when it started whinging.
The entire time I was trying to get through Virgil, John Green was tempting me. So much so that I had to take a break from the Aeneid on the promise that I would I just read the first chapter before getting back to the pesky Ancient Romans. And then I decided it could be three. And then before I knew it, it was nearly midnight but I was just pages away from finishing The Fault in Our Stars. It was, quite frankly, hypnotic.
The careful handling of sensitive issues reminded me of Sarah Dessen, who I used to absolutely love but has slipped from my literary radar in recent years, but the dry humour and wit was very refreshing and completely and utterly engaging.
The topic is not a cheery one, focusing on the members of a support group for children with cancer but boy did this book make me laugh, smile and love all the phrases that seemed to fit thoughts I have been wrestling with for years into one sentence. John Green has a wonderful way with words, crafting them into perfect little gems that you want to treasure for ever.
Oh dear, it seems I’m turning into a right little fan girl so I’ll put an end to the gushing for now and try and summarize my review of The Fault in Our Stars as succinctly as I can: I loved it.