The Fault in Our Stars

Review From User :

I HATE this book. Absolutely hate it. Not just from the bottom of my heart (which would literally mean my ventricles, and so, no) but with my whole heart. I hate it, hate it, hate it.

I hate the fact that it made me laugh, so hard!
I hate the fact that it made me smile, so much!
I hate the fact that it made me chuckle, so profusely!

I hate the fact that it gifted me with so much Laughter, Smiles and Chuckles when I was expecting to come face to face with tragedy at any changed my expectations, made me believe in Something which did not happen...or maybe did happen.

I hate the fact that while Hazel Grace fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once , I just fell warning, no time to process the myriad emotions coursing through me, nope, nothing, just a huge endless void-filled fall and then a sudden crash that took my breath away, like literally...

I hate the fact that I fell in love with this bound-to-end-in-oblivion, bound-to-end-in-disaster boy who stared with blue blue eyes and put the killing thing right between his teeth, but never gave it the power to do its killing. (Putting a cigarette right between your teeth and never lighting it, yes, that's Augustus Waters for you, people, a guy huge on metaphors and symbolism...that hopeless boy).

I hate the fact that when I least expected it, the story, the words just grabbed me and pulled me in so deep that even the thought of ever resurfacing never entered my mind.

I hate that the fact that right in the middle of my dance in the rain of laughter, dry wit, and humour without any warning, without any lightning as it's precedent, this thunder would stun me, startle me, wipe the smile right off my face, and sober me up, wake me up from the intoxication of the very real yet false jocularity spun by them, a humour which was nothing but human tragedy waiting-to-happen-and-had-already-happened in disguise and then push me back into that rain to dance again.

I hate the fact that I'm not making my much sense right now....that right now my thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations...

And yes, all the hate above is a metaphor, a symbolic word for love... weird, right But right now I can't bring myself to say that I love this book....I don't, I don't, I don't (yes, I do, I do, I do...)

So, *deep breath*, it's a story of a girl named Hazel Grace Lancaster, a girl diagnosed with thyroid cancer at the age of 13 who's still alive at 16 thanks to a miracle drug which didn't work it's miracle in about 70% of the people but it did work in her.

So, even though her lungs suck at being lungs, she's still alive and well not kicking, but breathing, with difficulty (because remember her lungs suck at being lungs), but breathing nonetheless.

She's been nothing but a terminal case ever since her diagnosis. The doctors are simply finding ways of keeping her alive rather than removing the cancer ridden lungs and replacing it with a new one, because let's face it, her chances of surviving such an operation are like next to nothing and why waste a good pair of lungs on a given, bound-to-fail body

So, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis.

Enter Augustus Waters. He's 17, gorgeous, in remission, and very frankly and much to her surprise interested in her.

It's a match made in Cancer Kid Support Group, in the Literal Heart of Jesus (you'll know what that means when you read the'll laugh, trust me, you will).

He is 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.

He's the unexpected, hot, gorgeous twist in her story...a story which is about to be completely rewritten...

Their story begins with a staring contest...he stares at her...

So she stares back...because let's face it...

(Spoiler Alert: She wins.)

And it progresses into something brilliant, something as bright as the stars, into Something with a capital S....

I hate this book. (This needs indefinite repetitions, I hate it).

I hate the fact that I fell in love with their always. "Okay"

I hate the fact that Hazel Grace took the words right out of my mouth when she said what she said about being a vegetarian...

"I want to minimise the number of deaths I am responsible for,"

and about not knowing what's cool...

"I take a lot of pride in not knowing what's cool."

I hate the fact that I fell in love with this blue-eyed boy who drove horrifically and his cheesy and yet very endearing attempts to be Prince Charming....(but more so with him...the surprised, excited and innocent side of him..)

"May I see you again" he asked. There was an endearing nervousness in his voice.

I smiled. "Sure."

"Tomorrow" he asked.

"Patience, grasshopper," I counseled. "You don't want to seem overeager."

"Right, that's why I said tomorrow," he said. "I want to see you again tonight. But I'm willing to wait all night and much of tomorrow."

I hate the fact that Hazel Grace felt like a grenade and all she wanted to do was minimise the casualities when (not if but when) she blew up...

I hate the fact that I felt sorry for a lonely swing set...a Desperately Lonely Swing Set Which Needed a Loving Home...or maybe it was simply a Lonely, Vaguely Pedophilic Swing Set Which Sought the Butts of Children...and the fact that I absolutely love this sentence....

The Lonely Swing Set...

or maybe Just Vaguely Pedophilic...

And even though I fell in love the way you fall from a cliff or a building, (don't really know how that feels..since I've never done that)..I hate the way she fell in love...

I hate this kiss....because for who so firm that cannot be seduced

And then we were kissing. My hand let go of the oxygen cart and I reached up for his neck, and he pulled me up by my waist onto my tiptoes. As his parted lips met mine, I started to feel breathless in a new and fascinating way. The space around us evaporated, and for a weird moment I really liked my body; this cancer-ruined thing I'd spent years dragging around suddenly seemed worth the struggle, worth the chest tubes and the PICC lines and the ceaseless bodily betrayal of the tumors.

I hate the love letter she wrote him...(Spoiler Alert: It's a Venn diagram love letter.)

I hate the fact that she did not agree with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs (in which Abraham Maslow, an American psychologist, claimed that certain needs must be met before you can even have other kinds of needs.) Something like this...

Unless and until your needs of the previous level have been fulfilled, you don't even think about the needs of the next level. Of course, like all psychological theories this one too cannot be generalized or accepted universally. Because if there is one law in psychology then it is that there is no law in psychology, there is no given universal laws for human behaviour or thoughts or anything. Every theory has it's use and flaws, applicable to some while not applicable to others. And this one is not applicable in this situation. Nope, not at all.

I hate the words, the word play in this book... a quantum entanglement of tubes and bodies....triumphantly digitized contemporaneity....

I hate the fact that it made me laugh so much, smile a lot, fall in love so hard only to exact revenge later on for giving in to the false security of humour and love by making me cry....oh god, cry so much...

Because that's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt.

I get it...totally get it...

I hate the fact that I ever read this sentence...

"I lit up like a Christmas tree, Hazel Grace..." .

I hate it, I really hate it (forget metaphorical resonances, forget symbolism, I actually hate it).

I hate the fact that it made me cry so much that the lovers of-god-knows-which-century entwined on my pillowcase were drenched in the torrent of my tears and were probably ruing the fact that there was no umbrella during their time.

I hate the fact that I stayed up whole night reading this book, half of the night crying, and even after finishing it I couldn't go to sleep, so the rest of the dawn just pacing in my room with all these haphazard, desultory stars jumping around in my mind finding absolutely no avenue to become constellations.....and my eyes puffy (Note to self: Do not stay up all night or add crying to it if you do to avoid puffy eyes.)

Why do I do this to myself

And I absolutely hate this...

I hate that this story is stunningly overwhelming, insightful, irreverent, raw and devastating...and to quote Markus Zusak, it's the kind of story reading which "You laugh, you cry and then you come back for more."

Some infinities are bigger than other infinities... ...I'm grateful for having known this little infinity...grateful for this epic love story of two star crossed lovers....

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I like my choices. I hope you like yours.

And by hate you know I meant love, right

I love this book.

Right now, my thoughts are too jumbled up...

Despite the tumor-shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis. But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel’s story is about to be completely rewritten.

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