I’m going to tell you all how incredibly brilliant and mind-blowing John Green is. Or rather, The Fault In our Stars.
Actually a bit of both.
And before I proceed, let me tell you that TFIOS is the only John Green book I’ve read. Yes I’m obviously going to read all the others, but not right away.
Also, I don’t generally read male authors. It’s not intentional most of the times, it is a subconscious thing I guess. Although yes, Dan Brown, Rick Riordan and John Green are such marvelous authors that I wonder a lot of times if I’m missing out on a lot (which I no doubt am but I’d miss out on a lot more if I didn’t read J K Rowling, Suzanne Collins, Jane Austen, Meg Cabot, Sophie Kinsella, Veronica Roth to name a few).
I read TFIOS a month or so ago.
Just the week before I created my blog, if I’m not wrong.
Back then I did not want to write about it at all. It was too special, too personal to do so. In fact, that was the first time I read a really great book and did not continuously blabber on about it to my best friends. As Hazel Grace herself rightly said-
I was completely mesmerized by this book.
My status for a few weeks after that was (obviously!)-
The day I finished it, I read it for 4-5 hours straight. I got a good hearing from both mum and dad about not doing anything the whole day except reading that book. And I was already so emotional because of the book that I cried.
And I thought that I hate our stars. It is unfair. Life is unfair. Everything is so unfair!
It’s been a long time since I cried over a book. The last I remember is actually Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix after Sirius’ death but there must’ve been others after that too.
Oh there was P.S. I Love You.
I just don’t usually actually cry over books and movies with real tears- all the sadness just gets buried somewhere deep within my mind.
Thus that made TFIOS even more special and John Green so legendary.
There’s a reason why I haven’t read any other John Green book yet. I’m afraid that (this is going to sound stupid. So stupid.) I might just start liking him more than I like J K Rowling. And I thought that was impossible. Which it is, believe me. But as soon as I had read “I do, Augustus. I do.”, I was so overwhelmed for a while that I almost started believing that. Although it is not true, I can’t believe I actually admitted I felt like that. It won’t happen ever!
So I guess I’ll just stop here. And I am definitely going to read a book by him as soon as possible.
What do you guys think?
Which one should it be?